The Lunch Date
Braedon decided that khaki pants, loafers, and a button-down shirt would be the perfect outfit for his lunch meeting with Catherine that Saturday after the fundraiser. He arrived early in his Camry and parked a block away, avoiding the services of the valet.
“Valets are too expensive,” he said to himself.
After approaching the hostess, he requested a table for two near the window. She guided him to the perfect spot, which was the most romantic spot with a nice view of the bay. He positioned himself in a chair that faced the entrance, so that he could watch for Catherine. And he kept his eye on the door.
Fifteen minutes later at exactly noon, Catherine arrived at the door. As the hostess guided her to the table, Braedon studied her outfit and her fashion sense. She wore a pair of black high heels, a tight pair of black pants, a powder blue silk sweater, and a matching chiffon scarf. Impeccable. What a contrast to the frump at home.
Braedon stood up from his chair to greet her, flashing his pearly whites. “Right on time. Good to see you, Catherine.”
“Good to see you too,” she said as she sat down in the chair opposite him and folded the napkin in front of her on her lap.
“Well, shall we begin?” He asked as he pulled a package of photos from his brief case and started presenting them to her, one by one. “Select the ones you prefer and I’ll be sure that those are the ones used to highlight the fundraiser. I believe I’ve captured photos of all of the well-known locals, including the two area mayors, the university president, and several CEOs.”
Catherine flipped through the pictures and identified a few favorites. “Nice work, Braedon, I’m impressed. You have a good way of capturing the mood as everyone appears jovial and confident.”
“Thank you!”
A female server arrived at the table and asked for her drink order. Braedon had already ordered himself an iced tea.
“I’ll take an unsweetened ice tea.”
“Okay, I’ll be back with your drinks and can take your order then, if you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” she said without looking up from the pictures. The server headed into the kitchen.
Braedon admired her appearance. She epitomized wealth, success, confidence and beauty. He wanted her. And that. Badly. In every way. He pictured himself with her in bed and drew a deep breath. She power.
***
When she was finished selecting the photos she felt best presented the governor’s campaign, Braedon separated them and tucked them back into his briefcase. Just in time for the meals.
“Two mahi mahi salads with the dressing on the side,” the server said as she placed their plates in front of them.
“Thank you,” Catherine said.
“Yes, thanks, Wendy,” Braedon added, reading her name from her name tag.
“Delicious mahi mahi,” he commented in between bites. “What do you think?”
“Yes, very good.”
“Thinking of dessert?”
“No, I don’t do dessert,” she said, “save for a red wine sometimes after dinner.”
Braedon laughed, “Either do I. And red wine is my dessert too. That must be what’s kept you in such fantastic shape.”
“Thank you for the compliment. Yes, I definitely watch my diet. Staying in shape isn’t as easy as it once was. I’m also an avid runner. I run at least three miles a day each morning before going to work, around 5 a.m.”
“That’s great. I run sometimes too, but I mainly work out in the gym.”
“I can see that,” she said, “you look good. Very chiseled.”
“So where are you from, Catherine? Were you born in Florida?”
“No, Chicago. How about you?”
“Right here in Orange Bay. I left to go to college in Richmond, but then I returned. I love Orange Bay. It’s hard to leave.”
“It is beautiful here. Richmond’s nice too. Do you have any family here?”
“Yes. How about you?”
“No. Everyone is up North. Nick and I will probably get up there this Christmas. It’s been too hectic at work lately to plan a family trip.”
“Yeah, I imagine in your position that you cherish your free time.”
“Yes, I do. I cherish my time with my son. There’s just never enough of it. But he has a life too. He’s at the beach today with his friends.”
Braedon continued the small talk, sharing a few details of his past, but of course omitting references to his wife and kids and Mom. The Camry would be the only link he shared with her to his other life, if they took things further. He’d cleaned it out and washed it, eliminating the fruit loops and crushed crackers in the back seat. The Camry was old and needed a new paint job, but at least it was paid in full. A newer car wasn’t affordable.
She shared details of her background, which were mainly focused on her work experiences, and her work ethic. It was clear that she had a low tolerance for laziness and excuses. And people who made poor choices.
“Lazy people ruin a society,” he said, trying to impress her with his similar beliefs. He wanted to be sure to point out any similarities between her life and his.
She’d indicated that there was a husband, but she’d lost him eleven years before and didn’t care much about him. Loves and adores the son. The son. The very protective son. He’d need buy-in from the son. It was easy to relate to a person who didn’t love her spouse but loved her child, but Catherine wouldn’t be privy to that similarity.
“It’s time to take a chance,” he thought. Rejection wasn’t something he’d experienced with women before, so he figured his odds were good.
“Catherine, would you be interested in having dinner with me tonight? There’s a new Italian restaurant in the art district that I’d love to take you to for a nice meal and a bit of red wine.” He looked closely into her eyes and smiled, “I don’t get out much. It’s been a while since I lost my wife to cancer.”
“I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 7.”