Lineage(80)

He didn’t know if he’d ever seen something more beautiful.

She looked up as they approached, Lance stepping around the young host and to the table. Mary smiled, and already he could see the wheels turning for a witty greeting.

“Hello,” he managed before his thoughts floundered in the light of her eyes.

“Hello yourself,” she said as he sat in the chair that the young man pulled out.

“Anything to drink?” the host asked.

“A Honey Weiss,” Mary said.

“The house Cab,” Lance said, his eyes never leaving Mary.

The host vanished in search of their drinks and they were alone. Lance couldn’t lie to himself, he’d imagined this for some time during the weeks since he had met the woman across the table from him. Now that they were here, he only hoped he wouldn’t ruin the chance.

“You look great,” he said.

Mary smiled. “You clean up well yourself.”

“Thanks, I just picked this up off the floor when I was leaving. It’s nothing really,” Lance said, flipping the collar of his shirt and looking out the window with a bored expression. Mary giggled and Lance grinned. He had made her laugh again. If all else failed tonight, at least there was that.

“Have trouble finding the place?” Mary asked.

“No, actually I spotted it the first time I drove through town. It’s really nice,” Lance said, looking around again.

“Yeah, like I said before, it’s our trendy spot when we want a dinner that costs more but doesn’t necessarily taste better.”

Lance chuckled as a woman in a uniform that matched their host’s approached with their drinks.

“So I heard you had a raging party last night,” Mary said after the waitress had disappeared.

Lance frowned and then laughed after sipping his wine. “If you mean the barbecue, then yes, I did.”

“Stub mentioned it to me this morning when he stopped in. You should feel privileged, that man doesn’t like too many people, especially outsiders, even though he’s only lived here for five years.”

“Oh, is that what I am? An outsider? Well, you must feel ashamed, sitting at the same table with me,” Lance teased.

Mary smiled as she set her beer down. “A little, but I’ll survive.” Her face sobered before she continued. “I’m glad you’ve taken a liking to John too. God knows he needs a little happiness in his life.”

Lance gave a sympathetic nod, realizing that all of the small-town stereotypes about gossip were completely true. As he watched Mary run her finger around the rim of her beer glass, he noticed a form at another table beyond theirs lean out from behind a rock pillar. When Lance looked over Mary’s shoulder, the figure had shifted out of sight.

“So I have to ask, what is the book that you’re writing about?” Mary said, her eyes mischievous in the candlelight.

“Oh, now you want me to divulge all the details of my next book after the jokes you’ve made at my expense?” Lance said. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can be trusted.” He leaned back in his chair, pretending to appraise her. Mary batted her eyes playfully, and although she was kidding, he still felt a faint fluttering within his chest.

Lance sipped his wine once more before relenting. “It’s about a man who vacations to a small town with his family and is run off the road one night by a car swerving into their lane. His wife and daughter are killed in the crash, and the man who ran them off the road drops a bottle of liquor into the car, making it look like the father was the one drinking. It turns out that the real culprit is the mayor of the town. When the father figures out who he is, he kidnaps him and keeps him in his basement. He tortures the mayor every day, and is actually planning to kill him eventually, but the mayor’s brother is the town cop, and he’s on to the father. The father isn’t really evil, but he’s battling with himself and his loss and the hatred he has for the man who robbed him of his family, his future.” Lance took a breath and shook his head as he looked out across the flat blue of the lake. “Sorry, I get caught up sometimes …” he trailed off.

“No, it sounds great. How far are you?”

“About two-thirds, maybe?”

“How’s it going to end?” Mary asked, her wide green eyes flashing in the last light of the day as it slanted through the restaurant.

Lance felt the familiar effort of trying to dredge up the conclusion of the story that he underwent whenever he ventured from the house. He could remember what he had written so far, but the rest remained clouded and would stay that way until he stepped back through the threshold. The phenomenon hadn’t lessened in the weeks since his permanent arrival. If anything, it had gained strength, shutting off his creativity faster whenever he departed.