31. You Never Know

I was 55, my children were grown and off on lives of their own. My much beloved husband had died three years ago in a car accident. I still grieved. We never had a chance to say goodbye. Death of a spouse is always heart breaking but with illness at least you can prepare yourself a little.

       My good friend, Ellie, was worried. She wanted me to go out more. I told her I was content as I was. She kept urging me and, frankly, annoying me. Finally I agreed to a blind date with her cousin, Ron, who was in town for a sales convention.

       When Ron called to make arrangements for where and when we'd be going to dinner, he sounded nice. But then what's not to like in a phone call.

       I drove myself to Biggs, an elegant contemporary restaurant with a pricey menu. I had read that on a first date it was best to have your own transportation and meet in a public place. I needed to feel in control.

       Ron was already at the bare surfaced light wood table when I arrived. I gave him a point for that. I hated waiting in a restaurant for dinner companions. He stood to greet me and I could see he was a couple of inches taller than I was. He still had all his hair, with some gray at the sides. His smile was pleasant and we made small talk until the waiter arrived.

      “Hi, I'm Steven and I'll be your server tonight. It's my first night so I hope I can make it special for you.”

       Ron rolled his eyes and said, “I'm hoping to impress this young lady so please don't spill anything on us.”

       Steven blushed and stammered, “Oh, no, sir. I would never spill anything on you.”

       I felt sorry for Steven, who seemed older than the rest of the wait staff. Perhaps he had had a different job before the recent economic turn down and now the only work he could find was as a waiter. Oh, I was great at creating sympathetic scenarios.

      Ron ordered a vodka martini with an olive and a twist, straight up, “and make sure it's filled to the top. Don't let them skimp on it.”

      “Oh, no, sir.” Steven turned to me, “And what would the lady like?”

      I smiled at him and said, “just a glass of the house Merlot.”

      Ron commented, “I guess you never saw the movie, 'Sideways.'”

     “Oh, I've seen the movie, and I know the famous line about Merlot. But I like Merlot.”

      He muttered, “To each her own,” and turned to the menu. “Order anything you want. I'm on expense account tonight and the sky's the limit.”

      I laughed and said, “I think the horizon is high enough for me.”

      He gave me a strange look. I guess my sense of humor was not to his liking.

      I was beginning to wish I was home reading a good book. The rest of the meal was uncomfortable. Ron seemed to want to make a good impression by pointing out all the waiter's flaws. I guess he thought the comparison would make him look good.

      We ate and drank our way to dessert. I didn't want anything else but Ron insisted. For some reason this restaurant featured flaming finales. Ron of course couldn't pass up anything dramatic so he ordered cherries jubilee. I just asked for an Irish coffee. I hoped that would be fancy enough for Ron.

      Steven served Ron a large bowl of vanilla bean ice cream. He placed between us a silver chafing dish filled with cherries in a delicious smelling sauce. As the fruit became heated through from a Sterno can, Steven poured some brandy on the cherries and lit the alcohol with a long wand style lighter. Blue and yellow flames immediately jumped from the sauce and onto the table top. Luckily there were no cloths to catch fire. Steven threw the napkin he had over his arm onto the flames, smothering them. His face was white with fear.

      I tried to laugh it off, saying “we're certainly having a hot time tonight.” Ron was furious. He stomped off to see the manager, while I wanted to crawl under the table.

      Our waiter looked mortified. He probably worried he would be fired. I fumbled in my purse to look for a pen and paper. I didn't have a business card. I asked him to wait a minute as I wrote my name and phone number.

      “I'll be glad to talk to your boss and explain everything. Give him my number and ask him to call me for a more rational discussion of what happened.”

      Steven gave me a sweet smile. “Don't worry. I think everything will be OK. I'm sorry I ruined your special evening.”

      “It wasn't a special evening. It was just a blind date and at least it's finally over.”

      Steven started to leave, hesitated and turned back. “Would you mind if I called you tomorrow?”

     “Why no, I guess not.” I was surprised. But I did want to help him.

      Before Ron came back to our table, I couldn't take any more and left. I figured he wouldn't want to see me anymore than I wanted to see him.

      The next afternoon I did get a call from Steven. He asked me to meet him for coffee. Curious, I said yes, thinking again that I would drive myself and be in pubic so nothing too bad could happen.

      As we settled with our coffee lattes, both vanilla flavored, Steven cleared his throat and said, “I have a sort of confession to make to you.”

      “Oh?” I asked warily. What had I gotten myself into this time?

      “First, I want to thank you for sticking up for me. You're a very special person. Unfortunately, I've learned that some people, not all thank heavens, but some people are not that kind.”

     “I know it's hard to get and keep a job today, so I didn't want you to get in trouble.” I smiled.

     “I wasn't going to get in trouble, but again, I do thank you.” He laughed and then asked, “Have you ever heard of the TV show “Undercover Boss?”

     “Yes, I have.” I frowned wondering what that had to do with anything.

     “Well, I'm the boss. I own a chain of restaurants and Biggs is one of them. The TV producer asked if I'd be willing to be a waiter for the show. It took a while for me to agree, but I'm glad I did. It's been an eye opener. And I got to meet a lovely, single lady like you.”
                                              The End (or just the beginning?)