Twenty-Two

  

Give Satan an inch and he’ll be a ruler.

~ Sign outside Rock of Ages Baptist Church

  

“It’s celebration time!” Rusty had said to Mrs. Tobias over the phone. “Put on your best stepping-out clothes.”

She dressed in her funky new outfit from Chico’s and gave her hair a soft curl, thinking the looser style made her look younger. If she squinted while she gazed at her reflection in her full-length bathroom mirror, she could almost imagine a forty-something woman staring back at her.

“Not too shabby for a senior citizen,” Mrs. Tobias said to herself as she heard the doorbell chime.

Rusty stood on her porch, wearing his ever-present black leather jacket. Underneath she saw a spotless white shirt and a blue silk tie.

“This is a special night,” she remarked, touching the uneven knot of his tie. Clearly he wasn’t accustomed to dressing up.

“It surely is,” he said, as the two strolled to his Honda Civic parked in the drive. He opened the passenger door of his car with the flourish of a footman helping her into an elegant carriage.

Tonight they were celebrating the return of his dog, Hap. The wayward hound had finally found his way back to his master.

“There he was, sitting in my garage, when I got home yesterday afternoon,” Rusty said. “Except for a few ticks and burrs, he’s the same old Hap. I hope the two of you can meet soon.”

“I’d be delighted,” she said, tickled at the idea of being introduced to a dog. The momentary blip of distaste she’d experienced earlier that day upon seeing Rusty in his work clothes seemed silly. She relaxed into the passenger seat, listening to The Byrds on the CD player and enjoying the pleasant weight of Rusty’s arm slung over her shoulder.

Then Rusty pulled into Savoy Center, an affluent shopping center in west Augusta, and Mrs. Tobias’s back stiffened.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“The best restaurant in Augusta. Jacque’s. I told you we were celebrating.” Rusty reached over to squeeze her shoulder.

“Is Jacque’s even open now?” Mrs. Tobias glanced at the clock on the dash. Besides the county club, Jacque’s had been Harrison’s favorite restaurant. When he was alive, they’d dined there at least once a week.

“Yes.” Rusty went around to the passenger door to let her out of the car. “They open at five for the sunset dinner specials.”

Mrs. Tobias’s fingers fumbled with the latch of her seat belt. Most likely she wouldn’t see anyone she knew during early-bird hours. Only prom couples and little old ladies dined at such an unfashionable time of the evening.

And what if she did run into her old friends? Did she actually care what they thought? A few months after Harrison died, they’d dropped her completely. There was no place for a widow in their chummy circle of couples.

Drizzle stained the blacktop of the parking lot, so the pair sprinted from the car and ducked under the familiar black canvas awning in front of Jacque’s. Rusty held open the cumbersome oak door for Mrs. Tobias and followed her inside. The two stood blinking in the foyer, adjusting to the pale light of the restaurant.

“Table for two?” asked a bored-looking hostess garbed in a short black dress.

“I had reservations. The name’s Williams.”

Rusty’s south Georgia accent sounded more pronounced than usual in the hushed, refined atmosphere of Jacque’s.

The hostess didn’t bother to consult her book. Reservations weren’t necessary at such an early hour, and insiders knew that.

“Follow me, please.” She led them all the way to the small tables in the back as Mrs. Tobias knew she would. Harrison and her group of friends used to call them the riffraff tables. Mrs. Tobias didn’t mind the insult. She’d prefer to be sequestered from prying eyes, but Rusty wouldn’t have any of it.

“What about those high-backed booths in the front room?” he said as the hostess indicated a minuscule round table near the flapping kitchen door. He grinned. “This is a real special night for me and my date. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

Mrs. Tobias cringed at Rusty’s chattiness with the hostess, which was a no-no at Jacque’s. You didn’t get familiar with the staff unless you were a regular, and even then there were certain boundaries that were never crossed.

“This way, please,” the woman said, her young, impassive face revealing nothing.

They were seated in a booth up front and handed thick, brown menus. No frou-frou foliage, faux waterfalls, or chrome for Jacque’s. The restaurant resembled an exclusive men’s club with its dark wainscoting, starched linen tablecloths, and oversized leather furniture. The menu also reflected the staid sensibilities of the decor. It featured simply prepared chops, steaks, and seafood, leaving the mango tuna tartare and duck-leg con-fit to more adventurous establishments.

The waiter, who wore a stiff white shirt and black bow tie, approached the table. Jacque’s hired male servers exclusively. The management associated waitresses with tight pink uniforms and greasy diners.

“Hey there, fellow,” Rusty said. “I don’t see the sunset dinners on this menu. Am I missing something?”

The waiter’s lips twisted in an unfriendly way. “They’re not on the menu, sir. The sunset dinners include a choice of roasted chicken, broiled flounder, or a petite seven-ounce New York steak.”

“That’s petite all right. Sounds more like shrimp than a steak,” Rusty joked. “None of those dinners sound interesting. Let’s just go whole hog, Gracie, and forget these boring sunset choices. But first I want a bottle of champagne. This one here.” He pointed at his selection in the wine list.

“Very good, sir,” the waiter said.

“You okay?” Rusty asked Mrs. Tobias after the waiter departed.

“Fine.” Mrs. Tobias spread her napkin over her lap.

“You don’t look fine,” Rusty said. “Is this place a bad choice? I know it’s kind of stuffy.”

She softened at his concern. Rusty was always so considerate of her. If Jacque’s was stuffy, her attitude was making it even stuffier. What was wrong with her? Who cared what Jacque’s’ uppity wait staff thought? She was here with Rusty, a very dear man, to celebrate the return of his beloved pet.

She smiled at Rusty and felt herself loosening up just as the champagne arrived in a gleaming, silver bucket. After the waiter poured, Rusty held up his glass.

“It’s meant the world to me to spend time with you these past few weeks,” he said. “When Hap came home, you were the first person I wanted to tell.”

They drank their champagne and gradually inched closer together in the roomy circular booth. Rusty ordered lobster and Mrs. Tobias ordered veal shanks, and they shared their entrees with each other, all the while talking and laughing. There were so many things to discuss: music, books, art, and travel. The dark-paneled walls of Jacque’s seemed to open up as they conversed. Mrs. Tobias could never remember discussing such topics with her late husband. Harrison’s world was so narrow: golf at the country club, Glenlivet Scotch on the rocks, and classical music in the study.

“Would you like a nibble of my dessert?” Rusty cracked the surface of his crème brûlée with a spoon. “I can’t believe you didn’t order some.”

“I have to watch my figure,” Mrs. Tobias said with a girlish titter. The champagne was going to her head.

“Just a taste,” Rusty beseeched. She shook her head and continued to laugh.

“Why not taste it here?” Rusty touched his mouth and leaned into her. He pressed his warm, sweet lips against hers. When he pulled away, she said in a soft voice, “You’re right, Rusty. That was absolutely delic—”

“Gracie!” a voice said. “Is that you?”

Mrs. Tobias glanced up at a woman hovering beside their booth. It was Cecilia Tobias, Harrison’s mother. Beside her was her husband, Phillip. He was in his late eighties and looked even more shrunken and ancient than Mrs. Tobias remembered. Cecilia, however, hadn’t withered in the slightest. She wore a red couture suit with white piping and a matching boater hat, and her carriage was as upright as a debutante’s. She took in all the details of her daughter-in-law’s table with her alert green eyes.

“Mother Tobias and Mr. Tobias. What an unexpected pleasure!” Mrs. Tobias rose from the table to air-kiss Cecilia’s cheek. “May I present my companion, Rusty Williams.”

She continued with the introductions as Rusty struggled up from the booth, bumping his knee on the table.

“Nice to meet y’all,” he said.

Cecilia did not change her expression as she studied Rusty’s leather jacket, her daughter-in-law’s smeared lipstick, and the empty champagne bottle on the table. Her head strained from her neck like the carved face on a ship’s prow.

“Delighted to meet you, Mr. Williams,” she said. Cecilia’s eyes rested on Mrs. Tobias’s face. “It’s been far too long, Gracie. You must come and visit me.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Tobias said, smoothing her hair with her hand. She felt like a teenager who’d been caught necking on her parents’ sofa.

“Lovely. How about tomorrow at three? I’ll have Ernestine prepare a tea.”

“Three o’clock? I suppose I could—”

“Good. I’ll see you then,” she said, turning to her husband. “Come along, Phillip. Our table is ready.” She nodded at Mrs. Tobias and Rusty. “Good evening to you both.”