Fools Rush in(28)

“Of course not. Why would I tell him?”

I shook my head. “You’re too good, Sam.”

“Not really.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “You cold? Want my coat?”

“No, thanks.” I trudged along, digesting the information. Trish had told him, or he’d figured it out. And he didn’t care. Further evidence that he was, plain and simple, a great guy.

“I told your dad I’d stop by the Barnacle tomorrow night,” Sam said, snapping me back to the present. I could hear the laughter in his voice, though it was now fully dark.

“Be subtle, okay?”

“You bet, kiddo.”

CHAPTER TEN

ON THURSDAY NIGHT I was all ready to go. As usual, I had left the clinic around four o’clock and headed straight home. I took Digger for a quick walk (he was getting better about not pooping in the house, and if he did, he very considerately went on the linoleum). I snacked on some carrots to avoid unpleasant stomach rumblings later and fed my dog. Then began the preparations for my date with Lorenzo. Shower. Hair. Clothes. Makeup. Jewelry. I took a long look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door and was quite pleased with what I saw.

Curtis, Mitch and I had chosen the long black skirt and black ankle boots. For a top, we’d gone for the red sweater, which had a graceful, wide neckline. The sweater stopped right at the curve of my tummy, just camouflaging the little roll of fat that clung stubbornly to my abs. After a half an hour with the hair dryer and a few ounces of mousse and gel, my hair was gleaming and symmetrically fluffy all around, just brushing my earlobes. Red-and-black earrings discreetly echoed tonight’s color choices, as well as an antique-looking black beaded bracelet. Millie Barnes, I assured myself, you have never looked better.

The problem was, I had an hour and half to kill. Digger, sensing my impending departure, decided he wanted love.

“No, Digger. Sorry, baby. Lie down.” He whined but obeyed, looking reproachfully over his shoulder as he made his way to his corner. To make up for my neglect, I gave him a rawhide bone.

I called Katie, forgetting that she was already at work and that I would see her the moment I walked into the restaurant. I chatted with her mom for a minute, but I could hear the sounds of supper in the background and signed off quickly. Next I called Mitch and Curtis, but they were busy with guests. I debated calling my mom but decided against it, in case my dad changed his mind and came to the Barnacle after all. I checked my e-mail and answered a chatty note from Janette, my best friend from residency, and signed off. Skimming a New England Journal of Medicine, I found that I couldn’t concentrate. I clicked on the TV, but as I had eschewed cable, only the local news was on. I switched off the TV, leaned back in my chair and sighed.

Of course, having gone to so much effort, and having also announced the fact of this date to my family, I was filled with the fear that I would be stood up. But Lorenzo had called me the very day after we’d met, and he had called again to ask for directions to the Barnacle, which was certainly a good sign. On the phone, he had sounded very upbeat and sincere. I could only hope he was.

I imagined seeing Joe tonight. How great that would be! Just the same, make no mistake, I was excited about seeing Lorenzo. It’s not every day a woman gets to gaze at someone as drop-dead delicious as he was.

Finally, it was time. I had planned on leaving the house at five of seven, which would get me to the restaurant at 7:08. This, I thought, was just right; just a teensy bit late so as not to seem overeager, but close enough to the mark so as not to be rude.

I got to the Barnacle without an accident or even incident. I walked in without falling in a puddle. Despite its being only a Thursday in early May, the restaurant was filling up with regulars. I immediately sensed that Lorenzo wasn’t there.

Katie came up to me instantly. “Not here,” she confirmed. “You look incredible, Mil! And don’t worry. He’ll come. And in the meantime…dadada-dum!”

She stepped back a little, and who should be sitting at the bar but Joe Carpenter.

Oh, thank you, Powers That Be, thank you.

As I was a regular, sort of, at the Barnacle, I had hoisted a beer many times on my own. But tonight was different. Tonight, when I waved to Chris, the bartender, he smiled and raised an eyebrow and said something to Joe, who turned around and smiled, too. And I, the well-dressed, well-groomed, sweet-smelling woman that I now was, had no problem claiming the stool right next to the man I had loved for so long.

“Hey, Millie,” Joe said.

“Hey, Joe,” I smiled.

“What can I get you, Millie?” Chris asked.

“Oh, I don’t know.” What should I drink? What went with my image tonight? “How about a vodka and tonic?” That seemed very sophisticated.

“What kind of vodka?” Chris inquired.

“Oh…uh…Absolut?” I suggested, not that I could have thought of another brand with a gun to my head. I was really more of a beer person, occasionally a glass of wine. I turned to Joe. God, I was sitting next to Joe! He dimpled at me, and I tried not to grip the bar for strength.

“Good choice,” Chris said. “Regular? Citron? Vanilla? Raspberry? Pepper?”

I turned back to Chris. “The first one,” I answered firmly.

“Lemon? Lime?”

“Lime, Chris.” Just get me the damn drink, I thought, looking at Joe. He looked like an angel in the soft golden light of the bar. “So, Joe, what’s new?”