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“He’s my husband,” Maggie says.
Craig stifles a smile. “Well, isn’t this fun,” he says.
“And speaking of fun,” Maggie says, as the door opens again and in walks Richard Atwood, wearing dark pants and a white shirt, looking even better than his picture on Facebook.
“Maggie,” he says, edging through the small crowd waiting to be seated. “Sorry if I’m late. I got held up forever at the bridge.”
“No worries.” Maggie motions toward her husband. “Rick, I’d like you to meet Craig and Selena.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
“Craig McKay?” the hostess calls out.
Craig raises his hand. “Right here.”
“This way, please.”
“Excuse us,” Craig says. “Good to see you, Maggie. You really do look…terrific.”
“Thank you.”
“CraigMcKay?” Rick asks, watching him walk away. “Your…?”
“Yes.” Maggie lifts her palms into the air, as if to say,What can you do?Then says it out loud, “What can you do?”
“Would you prefer to go somewhere else?”
“No. I’m okay. You?”
“I’m happy if you are.”
Minutes later, the hostess leads them to a table underneath the Hockney litho. Maggie sits down, quickly locating Craig in a nearby booth. He is leaning forward, supposedly listening to what the lovely Selena is saying, but Maggie notes his eyes drifting repeatedly in her direction, and she can’t help smiling.
“What are you smiling about?” Rick asks.
Maggie shrugs. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.” Not a lie. Not the truth either.
He laughs. “I was pretty sureyouwouldn’t.”
The waitress approaches with their menus, rattling off the night’s specials. “I’ll give you a few minutes to think it over. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?”
Rick orders two glasses of expensive chardonnay. “Your husband was right,” he says. “You look terrific.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
He smiles. “Thank you.”
“My daughter thinks you’re ‘hot.’ She looked you up on Facebook.”
He laughs. “It’s a good picture.”
“She also wondered what you’re doing wasting your time with me.”
His eyes narrow. “She sounds like a lot of laughs.”
“Yes, she can be quite the comedian,” Maggie acknowledges. “Unfortunately, she has a point. Whatareyou doing wasting a good Saturday night and an expensive glass of wine on me?”
As if on cue, the waitress arrives with their drinks.
