She raised her glass and bit her lip but didn't cry, then cast her eyes downward. "You're far more than just a stand-in," she said.
Her words pleased him as he cautioned her. "Careful with those things. They're hell on an empty stomach."
"I plan to remedy the empty stomach very soon," she said, studying the menu. She smiled but it seemed more designed to give comfort to Dean than a true indication of her feelings. He sipped his manhattan. He had a feeling he might need it.
Cynthia's cheeks were quick to color as she sipped the liquid, making a face with each gulp. They each ordered a salad and steak and attacked them with surprising gusto.
"I won't be sad," she said. "Jeffrey would want that."
As the meal progressed, their conversation remained open and relaxed. To anyone watching, they were two people perfectly at ease with one another enjoying an evening meal. The ghost of Jeffrey Byrne, who had spent his final hours in the same dining room, was nowhere in evidence.
They chatted amiably about a variety of things. Both told childhood tales, stories of happy memories, each prompting the memory of yet another incident to their mutual delight. It was Dean's second meal with Cynthia Byrne and in spite of the gut-wrenching happenings earlier in the day, no less enjoyable than the first.
"Are you going to marry Ethel Rosewater?" Cynthia asked out of the blue, somewhere between manhattan number one and number two. Dean nearly choked on a string bean. She laughed aloud at his reaction, a little too loudly, quickly covering her mouth as other diners glanced her way.
"I'm sorry," she said, still giggling. "But you should have seen yourself!"
"Ethel and I are...good friends," he said, trying to look serious. "I guess I can say marriage isn't in either of our plans."
"That's good," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Why?"
"She nice enough, but I don't think she could make you happy."
Dean smiled to himself at the difference between happiness and a Thursday night romp. Just then the third round of drinks arrived, apparently as a result of a nod to the waiter by Cynthia Byrne. Dean had a good buzz going and could only imagine the effect of the booze on the five-foot frame of his dinner partner-a frame without food most of the day.
"You're not going to remember a thing in the morning," Dean warned, happy to change the subject.
"I'm not sure that's all bad," her words formed with care through the slur in her voice.
"One shouldn't drink to forget."
"One doesn't do it very often," came the reply. "You can't begrudge me that, can you?" She finished the remaining half of her drink in one gulp.