Nate Emerson gunned the gas pedal on his Audi A6 TDI, enjoying the amount of torque in the turbodiesel engine. Unlike many of his congressional peers, he seldom utilized the services of a town car, preferring this car as his chariot of choice. While not extremely expensive, the car mixed function and fun in equal parts.
Someday, when he was no longer in the spotlight and didn’t have the media assessing his every purchase, he’d like to buy a sports car. Nothing really spendy. Maybe a Porsche Boxster, cherry-red.
Until then, he’d enjoy this sensible black number that had served him so well, a car he’d missed while she was in the shop.
He thought again of the girl who had run into him and wondered briefly if he’d see her in the store tonight. She’d been so terribly distraught over the damage she’d inflicted on his car, he couldn’t possibly be angry. Even if she had put a nice-sized dent in his front bumper.
Though not exactly close to his home, Central Market was the only grocery outlet to carry his Ossau-Iraty, a creamy and slightly nutty-tasting cheese made of sheep’s milk from the western Pyrenees of France.
He’d first tasted the delicacy when his mother and Porter took him on a graduation trip to Europe. His mother believed it was her job to make sure he was exposed to culture. “You’re destined for big things, Son,” she’d said. “I intend to show you there’s more to this world than bluebonnets and longhorns.”
Nate parked in a spot near the entrance to the store. As he tucked his key fob into his pants pocket, he couldn’t help glancing around for her car.
When he didn’t see her vehicle, he tucked away his slight disappointment and stepped through the sliding glass doors, making his way to the rear of the store where the cheese carousel was located, next to the wine aisle.
He selected several packages of Ossau-Iraty and placed the cellophane-wrapped wedges in his hand-carried grocery basket. He rounded the aisle and headed for the bakery.
That’s when he saw her—the girl.
For some reason he couldn’t explain, he hung back and again watched her work. Alone in the department, she pulled a long-stemmed pink rose from a bucket and expertly clipped the stem at an angle. Before placing it in the vase, she lifted the bud to her nose and took in its scent. Her eyes closed, the aroma seeming to bring her immense pleasure.
He smiled at the delight expressed on her face, appreciating that a simple rose made her that happy.
She opened her eyes, caught him watching her. Her expression turned to surprise, and then a slow smile dawned on her face. She waved.
He waved back before making his way over. “Hey there. Nice seeing you again.”
Her hand went to her temple, and she rubbed the spot as if nervous. “Are you sure?” She grinned and stepped from behind the counter and extended her hand. “Thank you again for being so nice the other night. I mean, when I backed into your car and all.”
“No problem. Accidents happen.” He smiled back at her. He felt oddly nervous as he shook her hand. “Just got my car out of the shop yesterday, and she’s as good as new.”
“Oh, good. I—I’ll try to stay out of the parking lot tonight until after you’ve had a chance to leave.” Her laugh showcased her dimples.
Suddenly, he remembered his manners. “I’m Nathan Emerson.”
“Yes,” she said. “Senator Emerson. I know who you are.”
Normally, he resisted connecting the label to himself when first meeting someone, reluctant to come off as pretentious. But he liked when she said she knew who he was. He could only hope their political views were aligned and the fact she knew he was a senator was an advantage.
“I like your voting record,” she said, immediately putting him at ease. “And the things you care about.”
“Oh?” He admired how little makeup she wore. While he’d never said it out loud to anyone, he thought women who covered up their natural beauty with a bunch of expensive products seemed a bit inauthentic. “It’s always good to hear my efforts are aligned with that of my constituents.”
She hesitated a second or two, glanced at the floor before looking back up at him. “My mother . . . well, she suffers dementia. She’s in a residential care center.”
His heart ached upon hearing that news. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He was well aware of the burden created for the families of those suffering these types of diseases. And he heard the emotion in her voice.
“Uh, thanks. I mean, she’s doing well. Considering.”
Nate nodded. “I hate that debilitating disease and what it does to families. It must be very hard for you.”
Their eyes met. He sensed deep sadness behind those blue eyes. A sadness he wished he had the ability to erase.
Nate shifted the basket and reached in his pocket for his wallet. “This is my personal contact information. If there’s ever anything I can do to help you and your mother, please call me.” He gave her an earnest look and offered his business card. “I mean it. Call me anytime.”
She took the card. “Thank you.”
He stood there several more seconds without moving. Feeling a bit awkward, he shifted his stance. “Well, I guess I’d better get going.”
Her face broke into an easy smile. “Nice seeing you again.”
“Yeah, same here. Take care.”
Reluctantly, he turned and moved for the line of people in the checkout lane.
It wasn’t until he was halfway home that he realized he’d forgotten to go to the bakery department for his pastries.
Worse, he never asked for her name.