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Chapter Eight
On Saturday, Matt tidied his room, made the bed with new, clean satin sheets and pillowcases, sprayed lavender in the bathroom, and set the two plush bathrobes he’d just bought on a chair. After ordering baby ribs, Caesar salad, and a chocolate cake to be delivered at six p.m., he wiped down the round table and chairs on the balcony adjoining his bedroom.
At four forty, he drove to U.C. and parked where Brenda had suggested and waited for her. He smiled when he saw her strolling toward his car, wearing a red print dress, a white jacket draping her shoulders. He bent to open the passenger door for her.
“You look lovely, babe.”
“Thank you. I’m so happy we have the whole evening to ourselves,” she said, her relieved tone that of a prisoner stepping out of a jail.
He squeezed her hand. “You bet. Mia is okay?”
“Oh yeah, There’s a boy who likes her a lot, and she’s delighted.”
“Oh, oh… At that age, boys mean trouble.”
“I’m keeping my eyes on them. As long as she reports everything, she’s okay. At least she doesn’t care anymore about the boys who snubbed her, or bullied her in school.”
Brenda knew her daughter well.
He drove straight into his underground garage and parked in his spot. “Sorry to be taking you in through the garage. It’s just easier.”
“No problem.” She followed him to the elevator. They exited on the twelfth floor. He unlocked the door and let her enter ahead of him.
“What a gorgeous place!” She spun around, surveying the living room and the kitchen beyond. “The last time I was here, I was so stressed that I never really looked around.”
“Feel free to do so.”
His phone vibrated, and he answered it. “That was the reception desk. Our dinner is on its way up.”
Within minutes, he opened the door, took the warming bag containing their dinner, and tipped the delivery man. “Just a minute.”
In the kitchen, he emptied the bag onto a glass cart and returned the warming bag to the delivery man.
Back in the kitchen, he added placemats, plates, glasses, a bottle of Merlot, and a carafe of water to the cart. “I’m ready. We’re having dinner on my private balcony.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Where’s that?”
“Follow me.” He wheeled the cart to his suite, hoping Brenda wouldn’t protest the proximity to the bed and paused to slide open the glass door. “My balcony is relatively small, but it has a great view of the neighboring golf course. We’ll have dinner here.”
His gaze fixed on hers, analyzing her reaction.
“I love it. It looks like we can watch the sunset from here, too.”
“Probably.” He didn’t remember ever paying attention to the sunset. “I’m either at the hospital at that time, or too tired to open the shades.”
“This time, we can watch it together.”
With a determined smile, she opened the bags and played lady of the house, serving him and herself while he poured the wine. The aroma of ribs, seasoned with garlic, cumin, and chili powder stirred his appetite.
“To you, Brenda, and to our first dinner together, watching the sunset. Hopefully, it will be the first of many.”
“Oh, yes.” Her radiant smile reassured him. “This balcony beats the view from any five-star restaurant in town. To you, Matt. Thank you for sharing your balcony with me.” She clinked her glass against his.
Sweet babe, there’s much more I want to share with you.
“Bon appétit.” He started eating, watching her do the same.
A few moments later, he asked, “How’s work?”
