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“It’s for Will. His birthday’s Sunday,” explained Georgie. “I thought the title was funny. He always jokes that the secret to his bar’s success is us, his”—she held up her left hand and made quotation marks with two fingers—“‘kids’ eating and drinking and hanging out.”
Kids? Seriously? Saliva pooled in Oliver’s mouth. “Really? He calls you that?”
“Sweet, isn’t it? He’s always looking out for us.” Georgie adjusted the pile of books in her arms. “The book has nothing to do with hockey. It’s a murder mystery. Will used to read a lot of whodunits, so it’s worth a shot.”
“Yeah…” Scratching his temple, Oliver cleared his throat. “You must know him well if you exchange gifts.”
“We don’t usually, but he’s been there for me through some tough times recently. I’ll buy some candy later to go with it. Will loves the old-fashioned hard ones.”
Well, that apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. Oliver nodded, surprised he and Will shared anything in common.
Georgie glanced toward the cash. “Want to look around some more or grab dinner?”
The Will’s ‘kids’ discussion had put a dent in Oliver’s appetite, but he plastered on a grin, refusing to let anything or anyone, especially his deadbeat dad, tarnish their first date. “Dinner sounds great.”
* * *
Sitting at a table for two by the window, Oliver studied the Queen Mother Café’s menu and chose ping gai, an entrée of boneless grilled chicken marinated in a medley of black peppercorns, coriander, and garlic, served with steamed rice and a green salad. “Thanks.” He handed the server his menu, hoping he wouldn’t regret his decision. The burger was more his speed, but he didn’t want to appear unadventurous to Georgie, who ordered her meal and appetizer without glancing at the menu. The talkative server seemed to know her well. She shared a brief conversation about the Leafs then happily agreed to use Georgie’s camera to snap a picture of the two of them with their drinks raised before departing.
Lowering his beer, Oliver grinned to himself as Georgie tucked her camera inside her book- and flower-filled tote bag lying on the wooden windowsill, hoping he’d have the pleasure of seeing the developed photo one day.
“Kaitlin works down the street, so we’re here a lot.” Georgie sipped her white wine and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window onto Queen West as a streetcar rumbled past.
Oliver surveyed their dimly lit surroundings. The wood tables, comfy banquettes, and exposed brick wall along with paintings by local artists provided a homey, bohemian vibe, and as per the restaurant’s name, photos and paraphernalia of Great Britain’s Queen Mother held pride of place, too. The nod to history pleased Oliver, as did the display of artifacts he’d passed on the way in—old bottles, tools, and bakery signs—little hints of the one-hundred-year-old building’s past lives as a blacksmith’s shop, a candy factory, and a wagon repair business. His gaze hopped from the Arts and Crafts-style copper cameo and glass pendant lanterns dousing the room in a golden glow to the large glass case near the bar loaded with decadent cakes.
“Their food’s excellent,” said Georgie, shifting the table’s flickering tealight candle out of the way, closer to the window. “I’ve tried almost everything on the menu, and I gotta say, you’ll love the ping gai. It’s one of my faves. I might have to steal some.”
She might have to steal more than some if Oliver’s fussy eating habits and first-date jitters got the better of him. He nodded enthusiastically, his gaze sweeping her curves, resplendent in a sapphire velvet dress. “Steal away. What’s mine is yours.”
“Same, but make sure you save room for dessert.” Georgie grinned over the lip of her wine glass and took another sip.
Blue really is her colour. Oliver smiled. The velvet fabric was just begging to be touched. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”
Eyes widening, she set down her glass. “Thanks! You’re rather handsome yourself.” Her appreciative stare wandered along the shoulders of his white dress shirt then swept down his arms and climbed up his solid blue tie.
Oliver murmured a quiet “Cheers” and reluctantly glanced away, catching the lively scene passing by the window. “So this is the hip and happening area of Toronto?”
“One of them. A lot of people congregate here because of all the restaurants, shops, and MuchMusic.”
“MuchMusic…where do I know that fr—” The fan mail session flashed through his head. “Ah, Kaitlin. Her sweatshirt.”
“She works there, yeah,” said Georgie. “Much is Canada’s music video channel. Like MTV in the States but better. They have artists in from all over the world and open up their windows so fans can watch from the sidewalk. I saw a metal band from Sweden the other day.”
“Interesting. We have MTV Europe in London. The only Swedish acts I’ve seen them play are internationally known: ABBA, Neneh Cherry, Roxette.” Oliver lifted his beer and took a refreshing sip.
Georgie grinned. “Do you go back often?”
He swallowed and returned the bottle to the table. “I did when my mother was alive. I’d visit every birthday, Christmas, and Midsummer.”
“Midsummer? Is that the summer solstice?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s a big deal in Sweden. The traditions date back centuries. Ma loved it even more than Christmas.”
“Really? What’s it like?” She sipped her wine.
Oliver’s gaze slipped to her lips and bounced back to her eyes. “It kicks off in the morning. We decorate maypoles with greenery and flowers and make floral crowns. Then, there’s dancing and a lunchtime buffet and games for all ages in the garden, things like relays and potato sack races, and a chess-like game with wooden blocks called Kubb.”
Oliver stopped himself there. Surely, maypole dancing and egg-and-spoon races weren’t scintillating date night conversation, but Georgie propped her elbow on the table, cradled her chin in her hand, and closed the distance between them.
