First Shift: Legacy (Shift, #1)(25)

“I swear I asked them to reserve it for us,” Donald said.

His wife’s gaze drifted back to him.

“I think they might’ve gotten confused when I described which one it was.” He stirred the air with his finger. “Or maybe I got turned around when I was on the phone.”

She waved her hand. “Sweetie, forget about it. We could be eating grilled cheese at home and I’d be thrilled. I was just staring off into space.”

Helen unfolded her own napkin with the delicate care Donald admired her for. It was almost as if she were studying the folds, seeing how to piece it back together, how to return a disassembled thing to its original state. The waiter came over in a bustle and filled their glasses with water, careless drips spotting the white tablecloth. He apologized for the wait, and then left them to wait some more.

“This place sure has changed,” he said. He glanced at the menu and would’ve had a stronger reaction to the prices had D.C. not inoculated him against dollar signs.

“Yeah. It’s more grown-up,” his wife said.

They both reached for their waters at the same time. Donald smiled and held his glass up. “Fifteen years to the day that your father made the mistake of extending your curfew.”

Helen smiled. She tapped her glass against his, the ring of expensive crystal sonorous and pretty. “To fifteen more,” she said.

They took sips.

“Hell, in another fifteen years, if this place keeps up, we won’t be able to afford to eat here anymore.”

Helen laughed. Donald could imagine the crystal blushing at the sound. She almost hadn’t changed a bit since that first date. She was like the Senator that way, ageless but without the medical assistance. Or maybe it was because the changes were so subtle. It wasn’t like coming to a restaurant every five years and seeing the leaps all at once. It was how siblings aged rather than distant cousins.

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked him.

Donald set down his glass. “Just how beautiful you are.”

“If it’s work on your mind, I understand.”

“No, really, I was sitting here thinking of how unbelievably gorgeous you look tonight.”

He tried to catch their waiter’s attention, but the aproned man didn’t even glance their way as he weaved between the crowded and noisy tables.

“You fly back in the morning?”

“Yeah, but to Boston. I have a meeting with the Senator. Hey, were you thinking of a glass or do you wanna split a bottle?” He looked up from the wine list.

“Let’s stick with a glass. I’m still not comfortable letting the car drive at night. You heard about Wendy, right?”

“Yeah, but I heard she was the one driving.”

Helen frowned. “She told me it was the car. And why are you meeting in Boston?”

He waved his hand. “He’s having one of those nano treatments of his. I think he stays locked up in there for a week or so at a time. He still somehow gets his work done—”

“Yeah, by having his minions go out of their way—”

“We’re not his minions,” Donald said, laughing.

“—to come kiss his ring and leave gifts of myrrh.”

“C’mon, it’s not like that.”

She laughed. “I’m only kidding. I just worry that you’re pushing yourself too hard. How much of your free time are you spending on this project of his?”

A lot, he wanted to say. He wanted to tell his wife how much time he was devoting to this, how grueling the hours were, but he knew what she would say. And so he protected the Senator and said, “It’s not as time-consuming as you’d think.”

He sipped his water, wishing he had someone to vent to.

“Really? Because it seems like it’s the only thing I hear you talking about. I don’t even know what else it is you do.”

Their waiter came by with a platter full of drinks and said it would be just a moment longer. Helen studied the menu.

“I’ll be done with my portion of the plans in another few months,” he told her. “And then I won’t bore you with it anymore.”

“Honey, you don’t bore me. I just don’t want him taking advantage of you. This isn’t what you signed up for. You decided not to become an architect, remember? Otherwise, you could’ve stayed home.”

Her gaze drifted over his shoulder again; Donald turned to see if the booth had emptied. He and Helen hadn’t even ordered their drinks yet—surely it wouldn’t be too late to ask if they could move. But the older couple was still sitting there, eating their food, eyes on their plates. Maybe they’d been together so long they no longer needed to talk to each other.

“Baby, I want you to know—” He turned back around. “This project we’re working on is—”

“It’s really important, I know. You’ve told me, and I believe you. And then in your moments of crippling self-doubt, you admit that your part in the entire scheme of things is superfluous anyway and will never be used.”

Donald forgot they’d had that conversation.

“I’ll just be glad when it’s done,” she said. “They can truck the fuel rods through our neighborhood for all I care. Just bury the whole thing and smooth the dirt over and stop talking about it.”