Page 19 of Wine & Dine

“No.” Yes. “Let’s go out. It will be fun.” I’ve noticed she doesn’t do much. She’s in the California playland, and she hasn’t been anywhere yet. The night will be unseasonably warm for November, and I have the perfect place in mind for her.

+ + +

I arrive at her door at six o’clock. It’s growing dark, and the bonus of early nightfall is the timing of where we are going. I’ve packed a simple picnic, not finding much in my fridge. Dolores doesn’t look like she eats, and she’s mentioned forgetting the necessity. Her cut cheekbones attest to good bone structure, but she could use a little meat on her.

When we pull up to the park, Dolores leans forward, squinting out the front window.

“Is that a movie screen?”

“It is,” I say, stepping out of the car and rounding it to open her door. Her eyes still focus on the large screen cutting into the night sky. After helping her from the car, I walk to the trunk to remove blankets and a bag.

“We’re watching a movie in the park,” she says as if questioning it while confirming it at the same time.

“You said you liked classic music, so I thought you might like classic movies. Tonight’s showing is It Happened One Night.” I hesitate as we walk. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“With Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable?”

“Are you familiar with this one?” My shoulders lighten a little with the possibility.

“It’s one of my favorites.”

Twisting to peer at her, I’m rewarded with a genuine smile. Not the forced one. Not the sheepish one, but a full watt, teeth exposed, red-lipped smile.

“Are you okay?” she asks as I stumble on my own feet.

“I’m good,” I mutter, my heart thumping. Huh. What was that all about?

We find a spot although it’s farther back from the screen than I’d like and spread our blanket. Dolores sits, eager to see what’s in my bag.

“It’s the best I could do.” I don’t want to add with short notice. I typically plan these things ahead of time. Expensive wine. Imported cheese. A catered dinner. Although, on second thought, I’ve never done something like this before. Knowing Dolores isn’t impressed by extravagance, I brought a bottle of wine from a Napa winery, a variety of cheeses, a box of crackers, and a sausage roll. The collection looks weak once I have it all laid out.

“This is perfect,” Dolores murmurs as she takes the red wine I offer her, and I relax a little.

“What should we drink to?” I ask, holding up my glass. “In my family, we always drink to something on special occasions.”

Dolores’s face falls a little, and she holds her plastic wine cup with both her hands. “Sounds like a nice tradition.” She pauses a second and then lifts her cup to mine. “To dog sitting.”

I chuckle. That isn’t what I had in mind, so I add, “To stunning company.”

Her face heats like it did the day she transformed at the salon, and I want to trace each blush of pink on her skin.

“You’re very charming sometimes,” she says before taking a sip. Then she redirects the conversation. “Oh, this is good.”

“Do you like wine?”

“I’m not really a connoisseur, but I won’t turn down a good glass.” Her lips twist while she considers something, and then adds, “My father was an alcoholic. A bad one. Not that there’s a good one, but he was an evil man. Watching him and then my mother hide in drink turned me off to heavy drinking.”

I stare at her. We’ve mainly kept our conversations casual, but every once in a while, she throws in something personal. Not for the first time do I note she seems like a well of secrets.

“My dad ditched us when I was eight. Guess he didn’t want a wife and kids anymore. My granddad helped my mother raise us. He was a major influence in my life.”

Dolores smiles one of her weak smiles. “What did he teach you?”

“How to go after what I wanted. Do things he didn’t do.”

“He didn’t teach you to be a man?” she teases.

“Nope, remember three sisters. I constantly heard how to treat women, how to act, and was reprimanded if I didn’t behave accordingly.”