Another week went by and Cole sat alone at a table for two at the Calderone Club. It had pissed rain the entire day and that fit his mood. It was nine-thirty and the dinner crowd had cleared out. He’d ordered the Chicken Marsala entrée and was still picking at it. Michele had ordered it when he met her here the first time. He couldn’t do the zucchini sticks though. The Fritto di Calamari was too good to pass up.
The Club’s lighting was still soft and the soothing standards from Sinatra, Martin, Como, and others quietly played in the background, with an occasional song from the 60s and 70s thrown in for good measure. But he felt out of place here now. He felt alone and more than a little sorry for himself. It wasn’t quite two months since his fatal confrontation with Hubbard, and it looked like it would be at least another three weeks or more before he would receive medical clearance to go back to his job.
He held his wine glass up to the light and stared at the ruby liquid inside, then took a long sip of the Kunde Reserve Century Vines Zinfandel. He kept the last drops in his mouth longer than usual, savoring the rich, velvety taste of the lush grapes. He splurged on the bottle tonight, a little higher on the price scale than he usually ventured. He wasn’t completely sure if he was celebrating the end of the case or drowning his sorrows. He suspected it was a little of both. Dean Martin sang That’s Amore in the background.
His cell phone vibrated in his suit jacket. Ty, Li, and Lane had called and texted repeatedly to check up on him. So had Gene Olson. They’d been acting like so many mother hens. Fwam and Father Wagner also reached out a few times to check inon him. It was almost too much. He wondered if they had a schedule. He tried to ignore the vibration, but couldn’t make himself. If somebody needed him and he missed them, he’d regret it. He reached into his coat and looked at the phone. It was a text from Michele.
Can you meet for a drink?
He didn’t know how people could type fast on a phone, but he did his best. How about now? No time like the present. I’m at the Calderone Club. We’ve always got that. ☺
He regretted the smiley emoji as soon as he hit send, but there was no pulling it back. He waited for the reply, wondering how a hero FBI agent could feel so much like a lovesick teenager. His waiter put a hand on Cole’s shoulder, causing him to wince. He looked at him a little impatiently. “What is it?”
The waiter nodded his head toward a large window by the entrance. “Sir…”
Michele was outside tapping on the glass. Cole could see a tender smile and either tears or rain streaming down her face, as she looked at him hopefully through the window. He got up from the table and went to meet her. She was barely through the door when Cole reached her and pulled her to him. They hugged tightly and Michele laid her head on his good shoulder. He kissed the top of her forehead.
She looked up at him. “I’m getting you all wet. I should have taken off my coat.”
“This is perfect,” he said, hugging her tighter. The song Fly Me to the Moon drifted to them. Cole heard the last line, “In other words, I love you,” and thought, maybe I do.
He realized they were moving to the music, dancing in the middle of the restaurant, as Linda Ronstadt sang Different Drum. Michele smiled up at him. “I looked up your name: Huebsch. In German, it means ‘pretty.’”
His eyes crinkled. “I was wondering when you’d get around to noticing.” He leaned in then and kissed her. They kept dancing.