Sunday, September 23
Back from a successful trip to Russia, Rebecca walked
into Alimentary to pick up dinner for her and O.E. She
inhaled the savory scents and waited for the maître d' to
finish making some notes.
"How may I help you?"
"I have an unusual request. I had dinner here recently
with someone named O.E."
The maître d' smiled. "Of course. And how is he?"
Sexy and built. No, that was not the answer she needed
to give right now, although it was the first thing that
popped into her mind. "Not very well. He broke his jaw and
had to have it wired shut."
The smile vanished. "Oh my. I'm sorry to hear that. Will
he be all right?"
"Yes, he'll be fine. But right now, he's recovering at
home, and I'm bringing him something to eat." Rebecca
grabbed a menu from the host desk. "So here is what I'd
like. I want an order of your spicy lamb ragout, to go. But I
want you to purée it into a liquid so he can drink it through
a straw. Can you do that?"
The maître d' winced. "You want us to blend a meal? I
can't do that-it will destroy all of the character!"
Spare me from your precious character. She knew he
would balk at the suggestion. And he was right-what
restaurant wanted their meals to become baby food? But he
was going to have to swallow his pride if he expected O.E. to
swallow his cuisine.
She pressed her case. "It's the only way he'll be able to
eat it, and we both know he likes your food very much. I'm
sure that he'll forgive the lost character, given the
circumstances."
The maître d' puckered his lips and stood up straight.
"Very well. And what would you like to eat? I assume we
won't have to blend your dinner, too." Rebecca ignored his
attitude and made her selection.
Soon, she was standing at the door to Dan Avery's place,
a take-out bag of food in her hand. Still unsure how far she
was willing to go with him, she had dressed as casually as
possible. Sneakers, a loose, blue and teal green cable knit
sweater with cropped sleeves, and a baggy pair of black
jeans. The outfit broadcasted a we're-just-friends message
that she knew O.E.'s good fashion sense would hear. She
also knew that he would probably ignore the message. She'd
be okay with that, too.
What do I want from him? She had been looking
forward to seeing him for days and had thought about him