These Foolish Things

by Thatcher, Susan

  Liz opened her purse and, for lack of anything else to do, checked to make sure she had her Plan B materials: enough money for a cab to North Station and her monthly pass for the train as well as the train schedule. Liz took out a lipstick to touch up and noticed the shaking in her hand. Using a two-handed grip, Liz reapplied her lipstick and rearranged her hair. She made her way back to the table and noticed that Ty not only rose to his feet as she approached, but also seated her. The waiter arrived two steps behind her to take their dinner order.

  Ty assumed control, “We’ll have the chateaubriand for two with…” Liz cut him off.

  “Is Matty working tonight?” she asked Marc the waiter.

  “Matty? You mean our executive chef, Matthew Sigby?” Marc looked offended at the familiarity. Liz ignored it.

  “That’s the guy. Go ahead with the chateaubriand, but tell him a la Vincenzo, no béarnaise, the searing had better be perfect. Tell him that this is for Elizabeth Gardner and he owes me his best shot or I’ll call the Globe and expose him as a fraud.” Marc lingered for a moment, uncertain. “Do it,” she said. He hurried off.

  Ty looked at her, brow furrowed. “Why are you terrorizing one of the best chefs in Boston and why can you do it?”

  Liz smiled. “I spent my summers at the Cape, but I wasn’t on the beach. I was working in the kitchen of a lovely little trattoria and Matty interned there for a couple of summers.” She smiled. “I’m not sure if it was more interning or getting underfoot, but he was there and I helped him get here. While he was there, though, he perfected grilling and Tuscan style flavoring. Trust me on this. The sides should be the best you’ve ever had.”

  “Really?” Ty asked. “So you know a lot of the chefs in Boston?”

  “And New York and other locales. I know where to get a good meal wherever I go.”

  Ty leaned back. “Next time I go on the road, I’ll call you first. Or maybe you should come with me.” This was a warm note.

  Before Liz could reply, Marc returned with two soups and a bottle of wine. “Chef says ‘you’d better enjoy this soup, it’s your recipe and he’ll take it from here.” Marc leaned over and kissed Liz on the cheek as he poured Hitching Post Big Circle into her glass. “He also sent that and apologized for not coming out but he’s got a terribly bossy customer to feed.” Liz chuckled. Marc straightened up and glared at Ty. “He also said I was to watch you in case you’re the one responsible for the shiner. Something about a scaloppini mallet and your kneecaps.”

  They dug in on a chilled roasted tomato soup with basil oil and small dots of fresh mozzarella, served with a parmesan tuille. Ty broke the silence.

  “Um, I noticed that you cashed the check. Did some of it go towards that dress?” Ty ventured. He smiled. “If so, it went for a good cause. You really do look great.”

  Liz grimaced, “Thank you, but Dan was so pissed, he escorted me to the bank to cash it and he took the money. Then he dumped more work on my desk.”

  Ty looked chagrined. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what Dan might do. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Don’t!” It came out more sharply than intended. She caught herself and softened her tone. “He’ll just think I complained to you and he’ll make things even worse. I can tolerate Dan, but I still play the lottery.”

  “Still…”

  Liz cut him off. “It’s okay. Really. I would have returned it to you if he hadn’t taken it.” He started to say something else, but Liz cut him off. “I’ve learned how to handle Dan. I appreciate the offer, but I can take care of this. Honest.”

  Ty let the subject drop.

  Halfway through the soup, his cell phone rang again. “Sorry, big case in progress and my associates have a ton of questions, Jimmy? Hold on a sec,” Ty looked at Liz. “Excuse me.” He excused himself and headed to the hallway again, the wait staff looking after him with disapproval.

  Liz sipped her wine and shrugged. Oh, well. Apparently, he had higher priorities than entertaining her. This man was one of the best in the business and probably resented the time he’d had to take away from his job to comply with the court order. She shouldn’t resent the intrusion.

  Liz looked up and asked. “Crest or Colgate?”

  He looked up, startled. “What?”

  “Crest or Colgate, Counselor?” she repeated the question. “If the pace doesn’t pick up very soon, McCafferty’s going to ask you if you’ve packed your toothbrush and I’d like to give you the right toothpaste to go with it.”

  Ty looked at her. “You’re planning to complain to the judge, Liz?” he asked. “That doesn’t seem like you. “

  Liz set down her spoon. “No, I’m not, but remember: he picked the restaurant, so I’m working on the assumption that His Honor has spies planted and…”

  “If the pace doesn’t pick up, I’ll need to pack my toothbrush. Crest.” Ty answered.

  Liz pretended to study his face closely. “You look to me like someone who used to play Led Zeppelin albums until your mother was ready to break them over your head.”

  Ty smiled. “Oh yeah. And Deep Purple and Aerosmith.”

  Liz picked up her spoon. “Okay, so ‘Kashmir’ or ‘Stairway to Heaven’?” Ty thought that one over. “I’d have to go with ‘Kashmir.’”

  “I’m sorry, Counselor, you lose. The correct answer is ‘Fool in the Rain.’” Liz answered. Ty looked at her, not following. “Everybody loves either ‘Stairway to Heaven’ or ‘Kashmir’, but my favorite’s ‘Fool In the Rain.’”

  Ty thought about it for a minute. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

  “Chocolate. Vanilla is for actuaries,” Liz answered.

  Ty almost choked on his drink from laughing.

  “My turn. Let’s see,” she pondered, “I’ve got it: Movies. Stay for the credits or not?” Liz asked as she spooned up more soup.

  Ty shook his head. “I put in so many hours at the office that I can’t remember what the last movie was that I saw in the theater.” He looked thoughtful as he tried to remember. “I think there was a car chase and explosions and someone saved the world without mussing up his hair.”

  “That narrows it,” offered Liz. “Could be Bruce Willis. He hasn’t had hair to be mussed up in a while.” Again, Ty nearly choked on his drink.

  “One of us has to stop that,” he finally said. “Let’s see, my turn.” He finished his soup while he considered the question. His eyes fell on a water glass. “Okay. Half empty or half full?”

  Liz thought for a moment, chin in hand. “I’d have to go with half full in this case.”

  Ty raised his eyebrows. “Only in this case?”

  “Yeah, it depends on the circumstances,” she answered. “I am calling that water glass half full because I know that someone will come along to refill it at any moment.” And, with perfect timing, Marc the waiter appeared and refilled the water glass. “See?”

  Ty looked at her intently, amusement and something else in his eyes. Something that made Liz want lean across the table and kiss him. Under the table, she dug her nails into the palms of her hands to control herself. She could feel herself beginning to shake again.

  “So, Liz. Why did you kiss me?”

  The question caught her completed off guard. She didn’t have a ready-made answer for that one.

  Liz stared at her dinner plate. She couldn’t look at his face. “I guess it was the head injury you’d just inflicted on me. Sorry about that.”

  Ty’s answer surprised her. “No apology necessary.”

  Ty’s cell phone rang again and he excused himself to go talk. Liz pressed her hands to her face, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

  They continued to play “Either Or” throughout the rest of the meal, some answers providing jumping-off points for conversation.

  Marc brought around the dessert tray. “Tonight we have chef’s special tiramisu for the gentleman and pear and Stilton tart for the lady. Chef says he wants Miss Gardner’s opinion on the tart.”

  Ty pushed his desser
t plate towards Liz. “Care to taste it?”

  Liz laughed softly. “No, thank you. I make the same thing, but mine is better, I guarantee it.”

  “I’ll have to find out sometime,” said Ty. He was looking into Liz’s eyes. She thought she saw his hand start to move towards hers, but stop.

  The sun began to set. The light changed from yellow gold to a deeper, more orange shade. A pianist had begun to play requests, singing old standards in a warm, honeyed soprano.

  Ty was in the middle of a story when Liz heard the opening bars of “At Last” coming from the piano. She had been leaning on her elbow, chin in hand, looking at Ty when the song started and found herself focusing intently on his eyes. They were expressive and warm and she found her mind wandering while gazing into their depths. Liz thought that, with the light and life animating them, she could also see pain from old, unhealed wounds. She thought she would gladly and willingly heal that pain, given the chance. A bigger, more logical thought crossed her mind right behind it: nobody asked you to and it’s not a good bet that you will be asked.

  “…and I just made it over the fence before he got there,” Ty finished his story. He listened for a moment, lifting his drink to his lips.

  “‘At Last,’” he said to himself, “one of my favorites.”

  “Mine, too,” said Liz. “I love the standards.”

  Ty looked at her, eyebrows up. “Really?” he asked, “we seem to have a lot in common.”

  He looked at his watch. The sun had set and the darkness was thickening. Liz could see the first stars emerging.

  “Did you make a wish?” Ty asked with a smile.

  Liz came back to earth. “No, too many of them out there now.” She was lying, but she wasn’t going to admit to anyone, including herself, what that wish had been.

  Ty glanced at his watch again. See? she told herself. He’s looking to end this.

  “We have time. Relax.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped some coffee. The pianist finished playing “Sophisticated Lady” to a smattering of applause and launched into a slow rendition of “These Foolish Things”.

  “Time before what?” Liz asked.

  “The second set at Regattabar,” Ty answered. “You did bring your ticket didn’t you?”

  Liz nodded, somewhat surprised.

  “Good,” he continued. “I had my secretary get one for me, too. This woman is good,” he gestured towards the piano. “but, Diana Krall is something else.”

  Liz nodded agreement. The silence fell again, only this time, it was Ty who ended it.

  “How’d you break your leg?” he asked.

  “I beg your pardon?” Liz asked.

  “You mentioned that you had broken your leg as a child, but you never said how it happened,” Ty replied.

  Liz toyed with the handle on her coffee cup, eyes on the table. “I fell down a flight of stairs at school,” she answered tonelessly, hoping this would suffice.

  She glanced up. Ty was watching her face closely. “Did you slip?” he asked quietly.

  “No. I was pushed.” Liz answered. She dropped her eyes to her coffee cup again.

  “By whom?” The same quiet voice.

  “One of the boys in my second grade class.”

  “Why?”

  Liz maintained her focus on the coffee cup. “I made the mistake of telling him I liked him, in front of his friends, no less, and he answered by pushing me down the stairs. It was humiliating for him to have a loser girl show interest. I had to stay home for 4 weeks, he was expelled and my parents sued everybody in sight.”

  “Loser girl?” asked Ty.

  “I lived in a different part of town from the other kids, I read too much and too far above their level. I wasn’t one of the pretty girls. Loser girl.” Liz’s answer was toneless. She remembered her mother’s “For God’s sake, Elizabeth, if you don’t lose some weight, no boy is ever going to want you! Honestly, don’t you CARE about your appearance? Do you want to be alone the rest of your life?”

  She looked up at Ty with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “See? There’s all this concern about kids bringing guns to school when the real menace is the architecture.”

  Ty didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. Liz saw something in his face tighten up and she put her hand on his. “It was a long time ago, Ty and the kid was a kid. Really sociopathic kid, but it nothing more than a dumb kid action.”

  Ty turned his hand over to hold hers. Liz felt the thrill again.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Liz squeezed his hand. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do the pushing.” She withdrew her hand and covered its shaking by two-handing her coffee cup. The silence fell again, but this time, the vocalist filled it with another old sweet standard.

  “So you’ve had a bad string of luck in the romance department, then?” Ty asked finally. His posture was relaxed, but Liz could see his attention was focused. Litigation mode.

  “I didn’t say that,” Liz said. She felt like she was being cross-examined. “You know, this really isn’t a favorite topic of mine. Can we change the subject?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Do I have to? Why do you want to know?” Liz was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

  “Well, I’m wondering why someone like you isn’t married, engaged or involved. I didn’t hear you telling McCafferty you couldn’t go along with this because your boyfriend would be pissed,” Ty continued calmly. Liz noticed that he was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, still looking very relaxed, but also very much focused on her.

  “Someone like me?”

  “You’re smart, funny, very entertaining, you have excellent taste in music.” Liz noticed he didn’t say, “You’re beautiful.” She ignored the pang.

  She tried to keep it light. “I’m waiting for Andy Garcia to come to his senses.”

  Ty chuckled. Liz continued.

  “I thought the First Amendment freedom of association argument would carry more legal weight. Anyway, you’re not married or engaged, either. And I didn’t hear you telling McCafferty that your girlfriend would be pissed,” Liz replied. Her words were heated, but she kept her voice low.

  Ty just smiled. “The law is a jealous mistress.”

  “I hate that phrase,” said Liz, attempting to deflect the conversation. “It’s sexist for starters and implies that you are a slave to your job.”

  “So?”

  “People should be more than what they do for a living,” said Liz. “Unless, of course, you’re one of those rare and lucky individuals who loves what he does for a living.”

  “I think I am,” said Ty.

  “Only ‘think’, Counselor?” Liz pounced on the opening. “You mean you’re not sure you love your job?” Now who’s cross-examining who? she thought.

  Ty looked down at the table and started to laugh softly. “Very well done, Counselor,” he said. “You shifted the topic and put me on the defensive.” He looked at her. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’d make a good litigator.” He looked down, thoughtful.

  “I can’t say I’ve had much more success with romance than you have,” he said quietly, still looking down. “I’ve had some girlfriends, but things didn’t work out. They never lasted more than a few months.”

  “Why not?” Liz asked gently. She was surprised that she’d actually voiced the question.

  “I don’t know,” he said, “I work a lot of hours, that’s always hard on a relationship. We’d have fun for a while, but it never lasted. I’d have to break plans or go out of town on business. Success demands sacrifice. I just figured that the right woman would come along and things would fall into place. Just didn’t happen.”

  “Don’t get me wrong; I have enjoyed my career as a litigator. I like the mental challenge and the adrenaline of being in the courtroom. It’s like playing baseball: no matter how well you play, you’re playing against another team. On the other hand, I’m a named partner in a law firm, did it in a
fairly short amount of time and since I don’t have judicial ambitions, I don’t see myself climbing any higher in the legal profession.” Ty shrugged. “At this point, it’s maintenance, you know, keeping the top spot. I’ve been working so hard for so long that it’s habit. And I don’t have much reason to break it. So, there really isn’t much more to me than my job, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business and I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” Liz said softly.

  Ty looked at her and smiled. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do the pushing.” He looked at his watch again. “Why don’t we get going?” He signaled for the bill.

  “Wait a minute,” Liz looked up to see a disposable camera in Ty’s hand. “We have to get the picture, remember?”

  Liz groaned. “My eye still looks like hell. I wish it was permissible to kick judges in the shins.”

  Ty chuckled. “No, it isn’t. But you live in Salem. Can’t you get someone to make a McCafferty voodoo doll for you?”

  Liz laughed. “It’s a thought.”

  As Marc the waiter came with the bill, Ty handed him the camera and asked him to take the picture. He then came around the table to pose with Liz, sitting very close and putting his arm around her. She felt the warmth coming from his body and the pleasure from being so close to him. They smiled and Marc took the picture.

  Ty rose from his chair and assisted Liz in getting out of hers. As before, he started to put his arm around Liz’s waist, but she moved out of reach. They rode down in silence, each lost in thought. Liz could still feel where he had touched her.

  As before, Ty had Liz wait on the sidewalk as he brought the car around. The shops were closed and it was difficult to see stars with all the lights in Boston. A nearby florist was still open with flowers displayed on the sidewalk. Liz walked over to admire the roses, carnations and mixed bouquets. The lingering heat of the day brought out the scent in the flowers and she inhaled the sweet fragrances. Liz delicately touched a rose, feeling the smooth surface of the petal and inhaling its spicy floral fragrance. It was a sterling silver rose, silvery lilac and wonderful to smell. Liz jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.