“This is very nice,” Trisha said, looking around them. “I don’t get out to eat too often, and sure never have time to drive up to Michigan for it.”
“It is nice,” Pat agreed, but his eyes were on her.
After shopping for the van, he’d dropped her off at her place and then had gone home to change. He’d told her to dress casual, that he wasn’t going to wear a suit on a Saturday, but even casual looked good on her. Her snug-fitting pants did vicious things to his peace of mind, and her navy silk blouse only added power to the punch. If he hadn’t been sort of involved with her before, this outfit would have pushed him into it.
“Good evening, folks.” A large man in a white apron came toward them. “I’m Charlie.” He shook hands with Pat and bowed toward Trisha. “You are newcomers to Charlie’s Dining Room, right?”
“We are,” Pat replied. “But you come highly recommended.”
The chef acknowledged the praise with a quick, short nod. “How about a glass of white zinfandel? On the house.”
“Sure,” Pat replied.
“That’s very kind of you,” Trisha said.
“Not really. It’s just good business.”
“True,” Pat agreed. “But if our meal turns out half as good as I’ve been told, we’ll most certainly come back anyway.”
Charlie laughed, a deep sound that echoed in his body. “I was thinking bigger than another meal.” He waved his hand toward the back of the restaurant. “I’ve got a nice little banquet room. When you’re ready, I’ll take care of you.”
Pat was puzzled and just a touch worried. A number of his acquaintances had spoken highly of this place, but no one had mentioned that the owner was a bit strange. “I’m from South Bend,” Pat said slowly. “I’m not sure I can bring many business meetings up here to Michigan.”
“No, no, no.” Charlie’s laughter boomed out, the sound waves filling the room and rattling the pictures on the walls. “I’m talking about your personal business.”
Pat and Trisha exchanged quick, puzzled looks. She didn’t appear to have a clue, either, as to what the man meant.
“You’re a nice young couple,” Charlie said. “You’re going to spend time together. Then you’ll want to spend more time with each other. And more. Until one day, you’ll want to join your hearts. Then I want you to come up here and ask me to cater your wedding reception.”
Pat just stared at the big man. First of all, how did he know they weren’t just friends? Or married already? Or relatives?
“And you know a lot of people, my friend.” He dropped a huge paw on Pat’s back. “So it’ll be a big reception.”
This was just all too weird. “How do you know we’re not married already?”
“Because you aren’t.” The chef shook his head. “You have a glib tongue, but numbers do not lie.”
Pat stole a glance at Trisha. She was staring at the man, a small smile on her face. Or maybe it was fear. It was time to put an end to this nonsense. “That’s very interesting, but—”
“I saw your license plate when you pulled in,” Charlie said. “Then when you two walked in, your aura followed you.”
“Yeah,” Pat said. “I noticed it was a little foggy in here.”
Charlie went on as if Pat hadn’t said a word. “It’ll be a winter wedding. The weather will be cold but the food will be hot. Almost as hot as your love for each other. And many people will come.”
This was getting to be too much. “I’m hungry,” Pat said and turned to Trisha. “Aren’t you?”
Trisha didn’t respond. She was still staring at the chef. It had to be because her mother had raised her to be polite, not because she was buying any of this nonsense.
“You shall have many children and a lifetime of happiness.”
“That’s good,” Pat said, trying again to bring them back to real life. “But what I’d really like right now is some menus.”
“I feel a struggle,” Charlie said.
“Not unless I have to wrestle you for a menu.”
“Your numbers are clear and sharp, written in the stones that define the path of your life. I see the number seven.”
Pat frowned and glanced Trisha’s way. He wished he could tell what she was thinking.
“Seven?” she said with a slight laugh. “You sure it’s not twelve?”
Pat laughed, his heart relaxing.
Charlie just shook his head, not impressed apparently with their frivolity. “No, seven is your number.”
This was getting too weird for words. “Well, it is close to seven o’clock,” Pat said. “Does that count?”
Charlie suddenly reached over to the nearby counter, then handed them each a menu. “My specials are on the board in the corner. Bon appétit.”
The chef turned and slowly walked away, leaving behind a huge, silent vacuum. Pat tried focusing on the menu but the letters just danced before his eyes.
“Here you go.” A tall waitress with a snake tattooed on her left forearm placed glasses of water and wine before each of them. “Now don’t let Charlie spook y’all.”
Pat looked from the waitress to Trisha and back again. “Spook? We’re not spooked.”
“Charlie’s heavy into this numerology thing.” The waitress, like her boss, didn’t seem to listen too well. “I guess it’s using numbers to tell the future. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m not into that kind of stuff myself.”
“Neither am I,” Pat said firmly.
“Well, I’ll be back in a minute to take your orders.”
As she walked away, Pat brought the words on the menu into focus. “How about you?” he asked Trisha without looking up. He thought her joke had been answer enough. He thought they had gotten a lot settled this afternoon, but maybe he ought to be certain where he stood before he went rushing off into the quicksand. “Do you believe any of this numerology stuff?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
He looked at her. He had meant his promise to Sniffles that he wouldn’t hurt her, and he didn’t want some kooky chef to break it for him.
“Don’t worry,” she said, a chuckle bouncing in among her words. “I’d never get married in the winter.”
She was studying her menu, so he couldn’t see her eyes. She was joking. At least, he hoped she was. He would assume she was.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Me, neither. Your hands would go numb so you couldn’t put the ring on. Your nose would run. And your lips would freeze together when you kissed.” He shook his head. “Horrible.”
“Horrible,” she agreed.
The heaviness in the air dissipated as Pat took a sip of his wine. It was delicious. The evening lay before them, all its magical promises still intact. “I think I’ll have the goulash,” he said.
“I’m going to have the chicken paprika,” Trisha said.
“Great. Maybe we can sample each other’s food.”
“That would be fun.”
They smiled at each other. She was beautiful, she was fun to be with and she was so levelheaded. Pat took her hand and raised his glass to her. “To a pleasant evening and fun.”
“Hear, hear,” she answered. “To fun.”
* * *
They crossed the state line from Michigan into Indiana, where the commercial development was heavier and the lights were brighter. He glanced at Trisha out of the corner of his eye.
The changing amounts of light played on her face, bringing out a different aspect of her beauty every few moments. Trisha was like a diamond. Every time he looked at her, he saw something new and more beautiful.
“It’s still kind of early, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh,” she replied.
Pat felt his cheeks warm as he realized how high schoolish his remark had sounded. “Want to drop by my place?” he asked.
“Are you going to want me to pay for my meal?”
“N-no,” he stammered. “Of course not.”
“Oh, good.” She turned toward him, putting out a smile he could ha
ve read by. “I thought you were going to make me rake leaves.”
They shared a laugh and he reached out to hold her hand. “I wasn’t going to make you do anything,” he said. “I did think we might watch a movie and have some popcorn. But you can close your eyes and refuse to eat if you want.”
She just laughed and laid her head on his shoulder. It felt so right, it almost hurt. How had he gotten so lucky to find someone so perfect for him? Someone who was so easy to be with and expected nothing in return?
They rode in silence because no conversation was necessary to fill the edges. Once he pulled into his drive, he went around quickly to help Trisha out her door. His grandmother would approve of his manners, or was it just that he didn’t like Trisha’s hand out of his for longer than absolutely necessary?
“You actually could use some help raking leaves,” she said, shuffling her feet through the pile that had blown up on the sidewalk.
“I’ll call you if the guys I hired don’t show up.”
“Okay.”
They held hands and walked up the steps and across the porch to the front door. As he pulled his keys out, Pat hesitated just a moment. He’d never had a woman over to his house like this and the evening seemed special. As if he ought to break out the champagne. He unlocked the door. Trisha would think he was nuts.
They went inside and he flipped on the lights. The house looked surprisingly warm and welcoming. He led her back to the small parlor where he kept his TV.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
She certainly was that. More than fine. He watched the slow sway of her movements as she walked over to the sofa. He followed, drawn as if she were a magnet, and sat beside her.
“What’s on?” she asked.
It took him a long moment to realize she meant on television tonight. “I don’t know.”
Didn’t care, either, but he hadn’t asked her here with any purpose in mind other than to share her company. He looked around and found the remote control. He flicked on the set, then flipped through the channels.
“Oooh, that’s a good one,” Trisha said as some old film came on.
He had no idea what it was but tossed the remote to one side. Whatever she wanted was fine with him. “What is this?” he asked.
She settled in on the sofa, sliding down slightly so that her head was on his shoulder. “Some old movie,” she said.
He let his arm go around her, just to let her know his shoulder was hers for the using. “I knew that much. Does it have a name?”
“Who needs a name?” she said. “These old movies are easy to figure out. See, now that girl is one of the bad guys.”
The light fragrance of her cologne was surrounding him, teasing him with her nearness, like strawberries in February teased you with the promise of spring. He tried to concentrate on the movie. “Have you seen this before?” he asked.
“No, but she’s wearing a daring dress and too much makeup. In the old days, that spelled trouble.”
“So I’m safe because you’re not wearing much makeup?”
She turned and gave him a pretend glare. “Maybe my makeup is more subtle.”
“So I am in trouble?”
“It remains to be seen.” She turned back to the movie, much to his disappointment. “Let’s see what role you’re suited for.”
A man walked onto the set. “How about him? Who’s he?”
“That’s the hero,” she said. “See how conservative his suit is and how open and trustworthy his face is.”
“That must be me, then,” he said. “Hero material.”
She gave him another look before turning back to the screen. Another man came on. “Now that’s you. Suit’s a little too snazzy, and his eyes a little shifty. The guy’s obviously a rat.”
“A rat?” he cried. “I’m a rat?”
“Hey, you’ve told me you aren’t a hero,” she pointed out with a definite smirk in her voice.
“Yeah, but I never said I was a villain.”
She turned so that she was effectively in his arms. “Yeah, but villains are more fun.”
It was hard to think coherently when she was looking at him that way. When her softness was there in his arms, ready to be held and touched and explored. He leaned in and kissed her softly. “Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets,” he murmured into her lips.
“Ooh, what a nice attitude,” she teased, but when his lips strayed from hers, she moved to bring them back.
It was getting harder to think, harder to remember why anyone would want to. She was so soft, so inviting. Her lips drove him insane. He wanted to drink in all of her, to feel alive in ways that only she could make him feel.
His hands moved over her silk blouse; the smooth, slippery fabric only tormented him, though, for it wasn’t as sweet as her skin. He pulled it from her pants so that his hands found the real silk, the real softness. He roamed over her back, pulling her closer so that his lips could taste deeper and deeper of her magic.
When her hands began to return the explorations, all hope of sanity was lost. The world was on fire, and all rejoicing with it. He needed her with a driving hunger that swept all else from its path. Nothing existed but her and the needs she awoke in his heart. He’d felt so alone and with her he felt whole.
The night slipped away as they gave their hearts free reign. First, there in the parlor, locked in her arms, he found heaven as he had never dreamed it existed. Sweeter and hotter and more driven than the other night at her apartment.
Then later, when he couldn’t bear to take her home, they found passion again, safe in the warmth of his bed. But the night was so much more than shared desires, than moments locked in fervor.
The magic was in lying together, close so that their hearts beat as one, as they fell asleep. It was in waking briefly in the night to find he wasn’t alone, and falling back asleep with her tucked safely in his arms as if she’d never leave. It was peace in the deepest, darkest corners of his soul.
Chapter Eleven
Trisha balanced the tin of brownies in one hand, a container of soup in the other, and pushed the car door closed with her foot. After skirting around the other cars in the street, she reached the sidewalk. The neighborhood where her mother lived was beautiful at any time of year, but it was especially gorgeous today. The colors of the changing leaves were vivid against the blue sky, the river seemed to be singing as it raced along and jack-o’-lanterns grinned happily from doorsteps and porches.
Trisha couldn’t believe that Halloween was almost upon them. The past two months had gone by so fast, thanks to Pat.
“Trisha!” Her mother stood at her open door, waving Trisha in. “About time you got here.”
“Hi, Mom.” Trisha hurried down the walkway toward her. “How are you?” She gave her mother the food and a quick kiss to the cheek.
“Have I got a surprise for you!” Her mother pulled her inside.
“You’ve decided we’re not going to rake leaves today?”
Her mother closed the door. “Oh, don’t be such a smarty-puss.” She took Trisha by the hand and dragged her into the living room. Trisha’s brother and his family were there.
“Hi, Tish.”
“Bob. Susie. Great to see you guys.” Trisha hugged first him, then his wife. “And Kelly and Trent,” she said as she bent down to hug her niece and nephew. “Boy, have you two grown.”
Trisha laughed as she stood. “And to think I vowed years ago I would never say that to a kid.”
Her mother just chuckled. “That’s what happens when you get old. You find yourself doing all the things you vowed you’d never do.”
Bob started to laugh. “Does that mean Tish is going to get married?”
“You never can tell,” Trisha’s mother said. “She has been seeing someone for a while now.”
“Oooo, really?” Susie cooed. “Tell all!”
Trisha felt her cheeks heat up. “There’s n
othing to tell. I’ve gone out a few times with a volunteer at the center, that’s all.” That’s all? Those two nights of passion flashed through her thoughts and the blush in her cheeks deepened.
It didn’t escape her brother’s notice. “Oh, ho, Tish. What are we hiding?”
She just smiled sweetly at him. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Now, aren’t we supposed to be raking leaves?”
“I’m sure we’d rather hear about your love life, dear,” her mother said.
“Except I have nothing to tell.” Trisha turned to the kids. “Want to go outside? We’ve got lots of leaves to play in.”
“All right!”
The kids raced ahead of Trisha to the door, where she turned back to the others. “If I remember rightly, Mom has lots of rakes.”
Bob groaned. “Well, that hasn’t changed. She’s still watching to see if everybody does their share.”
They followed her out to the backyard. Trisha got a rake from the garage and started raking under the old oak in the corner. It was a glorious day. Just the right nip in the air, just the right amount of sunshine. Susie joined her.
“All kidding aside,” Susie said, “have you found somebody?”
Trisha raked the deep red leaves into a pile for moment before answering. “He’s a friend.”
“That’s a great start.”
“No, I mean that’s all we want to be,” Trisha explained. Avoiding Susie’s gaze, Trisha carefully pulled a twig from the tines of her rake. “Neither of us has time for a big-deal relationship.”
“That’s not always something you choose.”
“It can be,” she said. “If you’re careful.”
Trisha stood for a moment, letting the slight breeze ruffle her hair. On the other side of the yard, Bob was chasing the kids, trying to toss handfuls of leaves at them. He wasn’t even coming close, but the kids were squealing in pure delight.
Trisha glanced at Susie and saw she was watching Bob and the kids, too. Yet her eyes were not reflecting laughter; they were filled with love—total, unabashed adoration of her husband and kids. Trisha felt almost as if she were prying, watching such devotion.
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