Light dances in his eyes, reflecting from the flames crackling in the fireplace. The antique wall sconces dotted around the room provide a soft golden glow. White tablecloths and short bud vases filled with a single flower decorate each table in the room. When Bobby drove into the parking lot of the White Birch Inn for our date, I had to smile. I’ve wanted to eat here for a while, but not alone. The inn perches on a small rise at the corner of the cove, providing a sweeping view of the village and lake.
I never go to restaurants by myself, which means I don’t eat out much unless it’s with family. It’s not like anyone will shine a spotlight on me if I do, and point and jeer, but that’s the image that pops into my head. One more way I let worrying what other people might think of me to stop me from doing something I might enjoy.
Our conversation flows effortlessly, like between old friends, and neither one of us appears to feel the need to fill the silences with empty chatter. His blond hair has a slight curl to it. I’ve only seen him wearing a hat before, so I’ve never noticed. He’s wearing tan pants and a white dress shirt instead of the standard jeans. He’s put in a little effort. For me?
The waitress takes our orders and Bobby gazes at me. “So, if the date goes well will you make more of those raspberry turnovers you made this morning?”
“You bought half a dozen. You’re not sick of them yet?” He showed up right after opening this morning to ensure he got his treat.
“Not by a long shot. I told you they’re a weakness of mine.”
“I guess so. It surprised me you were there so early on Sunday morning. I prefer to sleep in on my days off.”
“My internal alarm goes off at the same time every day whether or not it’s a scheduled workday. Besides, a lot of the best fishing is at the crack of dawn. It pays to get out before everyone else does and disturbs the fish.”
“You must have seen the beautiful sunrise this morning then. I was watching it from the back window of the bakery.”
“I sure did. I trolled along the shore of the cove, watching it rise over the water.”
“Did you catch anything?”
“A couple small mouth bass, nothing to tell fish stories about.” He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Nothing about the one that got away?”
“Got away from what?”
I freeze, reaching for my glass of water. Blinking several times, hoping the sight before me is an illusion, I stare stupidly at Mitch standing next to the table with Lucinda a step behind him. My stomach drops into the black hole yawning under my chair and I want to dive in after it, anything to avoid facing them.
Slinking under the table is out. So is forming a fake smile to act like I am happy to see the two of them together.
Bobby stands and shakes Mitch’s hand. “Bobby Calvert, nice to meet you. Franny and I were talking about fishing.”
“Ah, fish, not my area of expertise. You must know my date, Lucinda.” Mitch puts his hand at the small of her back and I look away.
Lucinda smiles warmly. “Of course, we went to school together. Hello Bobby. It’s nice to see you.”
Bobby gives a single nod and places a hand on the back of his chair, glancing at me.
“You don’t mind if we join you, do you?” Mitch doesn’t wait for an answer but holds out a chair for my sister to slide into wearing a black skirt and blue shell. He then strides around the table to take the chair on my right.
Just kill me now!
A double date with Mitch and Lucinda is something straight out of my nightmares. I twist the napkin in my lap and pray for divine intervention.
Bobby settles back into his chair. He gazes at me, perhaps looking for a clue on how to proceed or what is transpiring, but I am at a complete loss and offer no help. What should I say? No, you can’t join us. No, you cannot date each other at all.
My fingers are digging into the sides of my chair, I could excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak out a back door. The restrooms are in the back of the building. I bet I can make it through the kitchen to a back door from there.
It would only prolong the inevitable. I have to face all these people on a regular basis. Which is worse enduring the meal, or living with the shame of abandoning my date and running and hiding?
“I haven’t been to the inn in years. It’s lovely, isn’t it? And the fire in the fireplace is a nice touch.” Lucinda smiles as she glances around the table.
Bobby and I both murmur, “Mhmm,” and then share a smile.
The waitress arrives with two additional place settings and hands Mitch and Lucinda menus.
“What did you order, Franny?” Mitch stares at me over the menu opened in his hands.
“Um, Pasta Bolognese.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have the same. Lucinda?”
We all glance toward her as she smiles up at the waitress. “I’ll have the Chicken Caesar Salad, please.”
After the waitress leaves to put in their orders, Mitch looks at Bobby. “So, Bobby is it? Tell me about yourself. What do you do? Ever been married? Kids? Skeletons in the closet?”
Eyes bugging out of my head, I slide my cross back and forth on my necklace and glare at Mitch, but he ignores me.
Lucinda coughs into her napkin and then takes a sip of water.
Bobby rotates his glass. “I own a landscaping business. No. No. And none of your business.”
A flat smile on his face, Mitch returns Bobby’s stare. “Fair enough.”
Lucinda sets her glass down, rests her elbows on the table, and leans toward Bobby. “Do you remember the state championship game senior year?” She looks at Mitch. “He threw a touchdown pass that broke the school record. Bobby was the quarterback.”
“It was a long time ago.” Bobby sips at his beer.
I forgot that he had played on the football team.
Mitch scoots his chair closer to mine, angling it toward the fireplace. He hooks his arm over the back of the chair and crosses his ankle over his knee. “I never played any sports myself, at least not school sports. I didn’t regularly attend high school so there wasn’t the opportunity.”
He’d been busy making movies as a teenager. I never really thought about what it must have been like for him. “Were you tutored on the set?”
“Yeah, there are all sorts of regulations for child actors. One of them is to ensure I could get my studies done. I got my G.E.D.”
“I can’t imagine missing out on high school. It was such a fun time.” Lucinda shakes her head and frowns.
Yeah, for you, maybe. Personally, having a tutor and skipping the drama and angst of high school would’ve been heaven for me.
Lucinda brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes. “So you didn’t go to prom, school trips, senior night, graduation?”
Mitch glances at her and smiles. “Nope, but don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for the experiences I did have instead.”
The only one of those that I attended was graduation. It was mandatory if I wanted my diploma.
Lucinda leans towards Bobby. “Bobby, can you imagine missing out on all those wonderful experiences?”
“Sure can since I didn’t go to any of them either.” He takes a long drink of his beer and watches the fire.
Really? Why not? He’d been popular in school, the quarterback. I want to ask him, but he doesn’t look happy with the topic of conversation. Or perhaps he’s upset with our uninvited guests.
“Oh, I hadn’t realized.” Lucinda grabs a piece of bread from the dish in the middle of the table, but then stares at it like she doesn’t know what to do with it. She drops it on her bread plate and puts her hands in her lap.
Thick silence permeates the table. I lean forward in my chair. “Personally, the only one I attended was graduation, so it looks like you might be in the minority on this one Lucinda. It’s nice that you have such fond memories to cherish though.” Lucinda smiles at me and I spot the waitress carrying a platter towards our table. “Oh look, our food is ready.”
The waitress arrives and distributes our meals. Lucinda picks up her fork and pushes the lettuce around on her plate. Bobby cuts into his steak. Mitch winks at me before twirling his fork in the pasta and taking a bite.
I nibble at my pasta and calculate how long until the dinner will be over and how I can signal Bobby it is time to leave.
Lucinda dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Mother is planning a Fourth of July party. Mitch and Bobby, you must come.”
“I’d love to.”
I glance at Mitch. Mother will be thrilled. Of course, she is probably only throwing it to matchmake between Mitch and Lucinda, so if he doesn’t go, she is likely to drag him there herself.
Bobby gives a faint smile but doesn’t respond, he keeps eating his steak.
Is he upset they interrupted our date? He had gotten rather taciturn after their arrival. Is it Mitch? Bobby doesn’t seem the type to be awestruck by celebrities. Perhaps he hadn’t cared for Mitch’s questions, but then he hadn’t seemed to care for Lucinda’s either. I can't imagine someone not taken with my sister, especially someone she went to school with. I thought all the boys were in love with her back then.
Lucinda describes our mother’s plans for the party. “Everything will be decorated in red, white, and blue, of course, and we’ll have a wonderful view of the town fireworks on the lake. The invitation list keeps growing. She’ll end up inviting half the town before she finishes.”
“The important question is what are you making for dessert?” Mitch grins at me.
“Mother prefers her parties catered.”
His grin fades and is replaced with a frown. He reaches under the table and squeezes my hand resting in my lap.
I jump, knocking the leg of the table with my knee.
The table rattles and water splashes out of the glasses.
“I’m sorry!”
Mitch chuckles, releases my hand, and picks up his napkin and dabs at the water pooling on the edge of his plate. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Franny, I’m sure Mother would love to have you make a dessert if you want to, but she probably wants you to relax and enjoy the party rather than have to work.”
I smile at her. I don’t bother saying that our mother has refused each time I have offered to bake something for one of her get togethers. She’s never stepped foot in my bakery either. My father has, he’ll swing by after a round of golf for a treat and whisper, “Don’t tell your mother,” in a joking conspiratorial way. I’m never sure if he means don’t mention the treats or that he visited my bakery.
I guess I don’t want to hear the answer.
“Mitch, describe a few of the fabulous Hollywood parties you’ve been to.” Lucinda nibbles on her salad.
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a party person. My life is tame.”
“Oh now, don’t be so modest, surely you must have several juicy stories to tell us about living in Hollywood and working with celebrities.”
Mitch sets down his fork. “I’ve never lived in Hollywood. I have a place up the coast.” He shrugs. “Celebrities are just people. They all have their quirks, the same as everyone else. The only difference is they are on display for the public to see. I don’t have any exciting stories to share.”
Pushing my food around on my plate, I break off a tiny piece of the freshly made egg noodles and scoop a bite full of the sauce onto my fork. My appetite fled around the time Mitch and Lucinda arrived. But I don’t want to call attention to myself or my predicament by not eating anything. The savory sauce is flavorful and I’m sure on another occasion I would enjoy it, but it sticks in my throat and I have to guzzle half my water glass to get it to go down.
Lucinda glances around the table. She is trying to engage everyone in conversation, but we aren’t cooperating. Bobby’s limited responses dissuade her from continuing the nostalgia route. Mitch isn’t giving her much either. I cast around for a safe subject to broach, but I am coming up empty.
The waitress refills my water glass and I run my fingers through the cool condensation gathering on the glass. “Has anyone heard the weather report for the next couple of days?”
Ugh, there it is, my old standby.
“I think it’s supposed to be sunny.” Lucinda chimes in and I smile and glance at Bobby.
“Bobby, that must be good for business. It must make things difficult for you when it rains.”
He looks up to meet my gaze.
I drop my hand, hoping this will start a conversation to alleviate the awkward silence that has descended over the table.
Instead of my hand landing on my leg as I intended, my palm hits the edge of my plate, toppling it off the table into my lap.
The pasta covered in thick sauce lands on my thigh and then slides to the floor with a loud splat to join the wobbling plate before it settles. A long noodle trails down my leg like a snake.
I stare at the mess in horror.
How am I going to joke this one away?
Mitch jumps up and squats next to me with a napkin and starts wiping my leg. The dress I’m wearing is black, but there is no way even the dark color can hide this disaster.
“I…I got it, thank you.” I grab my own napkin and attempt to clean up the mess I made, but my hands are slow and unsteady. My leg is hot from the sauce, but my face and neck are on fire.
Lucinda calls over the waitress who takes over my fruitless efforts. She arrives with a handful of napkins and a busboy who disappears with the plate and a pile of napkins after efficiently cleaning up the mess.
I stare at the shiny spot on the floor.
Mitch tosses a handful of folded money on the table and grabs my hand. “Come on Franny, my apartment is right down the street. You can get cleaned up there.” He glances at Bobby when he stands. “You can make sure Lucinda gets home, can’t you?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer but tugs me to a stand and starts walking.
I glance at Bobby and mumble, “I’m so sorry!”
Trailing after Mitch with my face on fire, I stare at the floor in front of my feet. I had asked for divine intervention to end the dinner but hadn’t counted on my own clumsiness rearing its ugly head.
But then again, here I am heading for Mitch’s apartment with him rather than enduring a painful dinner with him and my sister.
Perhaps my clumsiness is a godsend.