First Class Menu (12 page)

He sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the charcoal
drawing in front of him. This was one of his favorites. He’d drawn it years ago
after walking by a man cold and alone in a doorway. He’d stopped several yards
away and had turned back and watched the countless people walk past him, never
giving him a first glance, let alone a second. He seemed to be invisible to all
around him.

David had gone back and knelt in front of him, offering all
the cash he had on him. The man had smiled and pulled a five dollar bill from
the wad David had pushed in front of him. ‘Thank you’ was all he’d said. The
next day David had gone back to look for him but he’d gone and David had always
wondered what had happened to him. After several weeks of the man’s face
appearing in his dreams, David had put it on paper, the result hanging in front
of him now.

He’d grudgingly selected it from his stack for the gallery
because the others had all seemed too personal. At least he didn’t know this
man, yet, it was probably one of the more emotional sketches he’d done. And it
was the one Lindsey had selected to buy.

But she told me she’d bought one of Lou’s
, he wondered.
Why would she do that?
David quickly washed his hands and dried them on
the chocolate colored hand towels that hung next to the sink. He slowly made
his way back to Lindsey.

She’d put his cup of coffee on the table in front of the
sofa and was curled into the armchair opposite.

“I added a splash of cream,” she smiled.

David nodded and sat on the edge of the cushion and reached
for the cup. He looked up at Lindsey, her head bowed, her hair covering her
eyes.

“We’re friends, right?” he asked.

That got her attention. She looked at him through her long
lashes and nodded, “Of course we are.”  A hint of a smile was on her lips.

“So we could tell each other the truth right?”

She nodded. He took a sip of his coffee and carefully
replaced the cup on the table. He stood and walked to the window. He could see
the room mirrored in the dark glass. He watched her as he spoke again.

“So where did you hang the painting?”

“What painting?” she looked confused.

“Lou’s painting. How do you keep forgetting about it,” he chuckled.

“Oh.” She looked flustered. “Umm, I haven’t hung it yet.”

David swung back to face her. “I could do it for you while
I’m here. I’m very good at hanging pictures,” he grinned.

She didn’t answer. He felt mean. He didn’t want to be mean
to her. He loved her.

“Are we more than friends?” he asked softly.

Lindsey looked up. He was now standing in front of her,
looking down.

“Lou,” she whispered.

He looked confused. His forehead had wrinkled and the sides
of his mouth were turned slightly downward. He exhaled loudly.

“Why are you always asking about Lou?” he asked.

“Why did you ask me on a date when you have a girlfriend?”
she demanded.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“LOU!”

“Hold on.” He stepped backwards and his brain was working
quickly to put all the pieces in place. He sat in front of her on the table.
“You think Lou is my
girlfriend
?”

“Isn’t she?”

“No!” he laughed. “No!”

“She’s not?”

“No! I’m old enough to be her…her older brother!” he
laughed. “She’s like a little sister. Definitely
not
a girlfriend.”

Lindsey sat on her heels, her hands wrapped around the hot
mug, eyes wide open, watching David laugh and not knowing what to say.

“Oh,” she managed.

“But you went on a date with me thinking I had a
girlfriend?”

“I didn’t think it was a date until you said it was a date.
I thought it was just two friends having dinner.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “So you
didn’t
want to go on a
date.”

“That’s not what I said,” she replied.

“You
did
want to go on a date but you didn’t think
I’d asked you on a date?”

“This conversation is getting a bit ridiculous,” she
muttered and climbed out of the chair.

“Because you’re hiding something.” He followed her into the
kitchen.

“Great time to start being perceptive,” she mumbled to
herself as she dumped her coffee down the sink.

David sat his mug on the counter and reached for her hand.
As he held it in his, his thumb caressed her knuckles. She closed her eyes and
tried to breath. He stepped in and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you for a very enlightening evening,” he whispered
into her chin. “Goodnight.”

*****

“Are you shitting me?” Mark rolled over and looked at the
clock on the bedside table. “It’s fucking 1a.m.” He rolled out of bed and
pulled a t-shirt over his head as he walked to the front door of his apartment.

Standing on the other side of the door was David who pushed
past him as he opened the door.

“Somebody had better‘ve died,” Mark scowled as he closed the
door and followed David to the living room.

“Can I have a beer?” David asked.

Mark looked at his younger brother and realized he needed to
talk. “Yep,” he replied as he went to the kitchen.

David finished the bottle quickly and asked for another.
Mark obliged, waiting for him to tell him what was wrong. All the brothers were
close; they were best friends, but David had never shown up on his doorstep in
the middle of the night before.

Eventually, David spoke. “So when does Katy get home?”

Mark chuckled. “I’m an old man, David. I need my sleep. I’m
happy to talk to you about whatever brought you here at one o’clock, but I’m
not doing the small talk.”

David nodded. “Fair enough.” He took another mouthful of
beer and swallowed. “I took Lindsey to dinner tonight.”

“Must have gone well if you’re just getting here now.”

“I’ve been walking the past couple of hours. She bought one
of my drawings at the gallery. She told me she’d bought one of Lou’s when she
came to pick it up. She thought Lou was my girlfriend.” He took another
mouthful. “I’m an idiot.”

“No argument here,” Mark grinned.

“I’m screwed,” David shook his head.

“Why?”

“I’m in love with her.”

“Yep. You’re screwed.”

*****

During one of his cooking lessons, Lindsey had told David
that cooking for the people she loved was one of the ways she expressed her
feelings. Growing up as she had, she had found it difficult to express emotion
in words, so cooking had been an outlet for that, along with a multitude of
others. Basically, she’d said cooking saved her life.

As he lay in bed on Saturday morning, a slight headache from
the numerous bottles of beer he’d had at Mark’s, a plan formulated in his head.
It was brilliant, he thought, but it would take planning and it would probably
take some help. The first person he thought of was Janie, Matt’s wife, but
they’d left for their vacation home in the Bahamas. His second choice, Katy, was
still in Boston with Shelby. Nic was suffering from a pretty bad case of
morning sickness at the moment, so she was out.

“Damn!” he muttered. That just left his mother.

*****

Sunday was a much smaller affair than normal at the Lathem
family home. Matt and Janie were on vacation, Katy was still in Boston, Ben was
out of town on business, Tim was working, and Nic was home sick with Paul
catering to her every need.

As David helped his mother clear the dinner dishes, he
broached the request of her help carefully.

“I was planning on cooking a dinner for a friend of mine and
wondered if you might be able to help me…just a bit.”

“Which friend?” she asked as she rinsed off plates and
loaded them into the dishwasher.

“I don’t think you know her.”
Shit!

“Her?” Maureen straightened and swung to face her son.

Shit!
He thought again. “Lindsey.”

“Lovely girl,” she smiled. “You’ve made a wise choice David.
I’m very happy.”

“No mom, it’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t,” she grinned.

Think fast!
“I just wanted to say thank you for all
the lessons.”

“Mmm hmmm,” she winked at him. “I’d be happy to help. What
do you need?”

“Can you go grocery shopping with me on Thursday?”

“Of course. Is that all?”

“I hope so,” he said to himself.

Lindsey had been surprised to get David’s call on Sunday
morning. She wasn’t sure how they’d left things after their
date
on
Friday.

On Saturday evening, she’d gone to Trudy’s for dinner.
Trevor had been admitted to the sleep center in the hospital to get his sleep
apnea machine adjusted properly.

“It’s a relief to have a night without him snoring like a
freight train,” she’d sighed. “That machine is supposed to help with the
snoring, but it hasn’t been.”

“Can I help you?” Lindsey asked.

“Nah, I’m fine,” smiled Trudy as she’d finished mashing the
potatoes. “Well, how about you carve the chicken?”

“Sure,” Lindsey smiled and pulled the aluminum foil from the
pan resting on the stove top. “Beer can chicken,” she chuckled.

“Why’s that funny?”

“This is one of the things I taught David to make.”

“It’s a staple in this house.”

“I know,” Lindsey had nodded as memories flooded her mind.
“I remember.” She’d sharpened the knife and wiped it clean on the dish towel
and had the bird cut into pieces and arranged on the platter in no time.

“How’s he doing?” Trudy had asked as they carried the plates
of hot food through to the dining room.

“Who?”

“David. Don’t play coy with me.”

Lindsey embarrassed herself and told her foster mother the
whole story; from the day she’d met David at his brother’s wedding reception to
the humiliation of the night before.

“That’s been your problem since the day you set foot in this
house twenty-something years ago.”

“What?”

“You make assumptions and then make decisions based on
unsubstantiated information.”

“I do not!” Lindsey had exclaimed.

“You know it’s true. Remember the time that your 8
^th
grade history teacher wanted to talk to me after school? You’d decided you were
in big trouble and had already spoken to the guidance counselor about switching
to another teacher because Mr. Haney hated you?”

Lindsey had hung her head. “Yes.”

“And all he wanted to do was ask me if I could help with
costumes for the annual play.”

Lindsey had sighed.

“And how about when Aaron had asked you to dinner a few years
back. You were convinced he was firing you. You’d already started putting
feelers out for another job and instead of firing you he made you Executive
Chef of
two
, not
one
, but
two
, of his restaurants.”

Lindsey sighed…again.

 “And this is another example of your insecurity. Lindsey?
You are bold and assertive in your career. Why can’t you be the same way in
your personal life?”

So, on Sunday, when she’d picked up her cell phone to see
David’s name in big red letters across the screen as she was just getting back
from her morning run, she’d decided to take Trudy’s advice.

“I’d really like to have dinner with you,” she’d replied to
his offer. “Saturday sounds great.”

*****

“You’re leaving early,” Audrey noticed as David locked his
office door on Wednesday afternoon.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today. Did you need
something from me?”

“No. I just stopped by to find the fabric swatches I left
here last week. I’m redoing the guest rooms.”

“Didn’t you just redo the guest rooms?” he chuckled.

“No. I redid the master suite last year. The guest rooms
haven’t been done in like four years.”

“Ooh, four years?” he smirked. “Criminal! Have you been
ousted from the country club yet?”

Audrey slapped his arm and laughed. “Where are you off to?”

“Macy’s.”

“You’re going shopping? By choice?”

David chuckled. “I need to get some things for a dinner I’m
having on Saturday.”

“Did you lose my invitation?” Audrey teased.

“You’re not invited,” he teased back.

“Ouch!” She pretended to be wounded. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Lindsey,” he grinned as he walked past her towards the
front door.

“About flippin’ time,” she muttered under her breath.

*****

Shopping with his mother had been incredibly painful. She
had interrogated him the entire trip to the grocery store.
The CIA should
hire her
, he’d thought. But, he couldn’t have done it without her so for
that, he was grateful.

He’d told Audrey he wasn’t coming into the gallery on
Friday. She’d told him that if the dinner went well to stay home on Monday too.
He assured her he’d be in.

He spent all night Thursday reading and re-reading recipes
and instructions, making sure he understood every ingredient and every step. He
wrote down a timeline of when everything needed to be completed, from making
dessert to lighting the candles to uncorking the wine to give it sufficient
time to ‘breathe.’ He attached the list to the front of the fridge with the
restaurant magnets he used to use to order his takeout. He smiled to himself as
he realized he hadn’t called them in weeks.

He made dessert first. That could go in the fridge and be
ready for tomorrow. Then he made the hors d'oeuvres. That also was good to go
in the fridge overnight. He set the table with the new dishes and flatware he’d
purchased while shopping with his mother. The rest of the preparations would
have to wait until the morning.

He checked the list on the fridge, marking off each item as
it was completed. He needed a good night sleep so he could get everything done
the next day. He wanted the food to be delicious. He wanted Lindsey to enjoy
herself. He wanted it to be perfect.