The Truth is in the Wine (28 page)

Paul said, “OK.” He agreed with Ginger, but he wondered how she would respond when he told her of his winnings. He was amazed that he had not told anyone but Big Al of his millions. Well, he did tell his father, too; he knew he was not going on the trip and would not blurt it out, as his mother might.

After a restful few hours talking, nodding off and watching
Law
& Order
, they prepared for the evening. Paul got in the shower first. “So I can get out of your way and let you take over the bathroom,” he said. “This dinner is going to be special.”

“I hope so. I'm starving,” Ginger said as she applied makeup. “Thanksgiving dinner was good, but not great. Last night, I couldn't eat anything after you left. So I'm ready for a great dinner.”

Paul was not speaking of the meal, but he said, “Me, too.”

He found the David Yurman diamond ring he purchased for her and slipped it in his jacket pocket. He poured the last of the wine he had remaining into a glass and enjoyed it and watched
SportsCenter
as he waited on Ginger.

Several minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom looking lovely. “You're having a boy,” Paul said.

“Wishful thinking,” Ginger said.

“I can tell,” he added. “You're glowing. Your skin is glowing.”

“That's called lotion, Paul,” Ginger said. “You didn't say I was glowing yesterday.”

“Yesterday I didn't realize you were pregnant,” he said.

“I heard people say that if you're pregnant with a boy your skin will glow,” Ginger said. “It's too early for that with me. But that raises a question: Do you want to hear the gender of the baby in advance or when the baby is born?”

“I want to wait. I like surprises,” he said.

“I do, too. So it's a deal; we will not learn the gender of our baby until
she
is born,” Ginger said.

“Agreed—until
he
is born,” Paul cracked.

Ginger participated in the little game, but she did not care if it was a boy or a girl. If anything, she leaned toward a boy because she had the experience of raising a girl—and she knew Paul was serious about wanting a boy.

They debated the issue from the room to the lobby, where they
were to ask their parents of their preference. But then they got to the lobby, Madeline and Brenda were not there. Ginger went to check the bathroom and they were not there. Before they could call the room, Paul's cell phone rang. It was his mother.

“Paul, we're in a taxi,” she said. “Mitch and Madeline got things mixed up. He thought we were meeting there. She thought he was coming to pick us up. The restaurant does not seat unless all parties are present—and we couldn't move the reservation back. So we jumped in a taxi so you and Ginger can go on with your night.”

“Ma, we could have taken you to the restaurant,” Paul said. “Which one is it? Maybe we can meet you there for drinks after dinner.”

“OK, good. It's called Tra Vigne,” Brenda said.

“That's close to where we're going. We passed it twice today,” Paul said. “OK, keep your phone on. I will call you after our meal. Or you call me before you all leave the place.”

Tra Vigne was an Italian restaurant with vine covering the building with green and white awning just beyond a railroad track. It looked like something carved out of Italy.

Mitch and Lionel waited at the bar for Madeline and Brenda, who were looking elegant and younger than their sixty-plus years. Both wore dresses and heels, but not too high. “You'll never catch me falling on my butt,” Brenda said.

Mitch, tall and distinguished with gray hair and a mustache, noticed Madeline immediately, and he and Lionel met them at the reception area. He and Madeline hugged while Lionel—who was not as tall as Mitch but was handsome with a wide, engaging smile—introduced himself to Brenda.

Madeline and Lionel and Brenda and Mitch exchanged handshakes and pleasantries and they were escorted to their table.
The restaurant was alive and noisy, full of people. It was an ideal setting for a double/blind date: nice, but not overly romantic.

Mitch said, “To eat good food is to be close to God. It's an Italian saying. And I agree with that. Eating is one of my true pleasures.”

“Mine, too, Madeline said. “This place is supposed to have good food.”

Madeline sat at the square table to Mitch's left, with Brenda next to her and across from Mitch and Lionel to Brenda's left. Madeline and Brenda strategized on this arrangement. They wanted it so that if Mitch desired to engage in private conversation with Madeline, he would be able to do so without talking across the table. And the same with Lionel, who was an interesting man.

He spent the latter part of his life running a foundation for underprivileged boys, after retiring from the military. He played the saxophone. He seemed genuine. And he had an edge about him.

“Our foundation was legit; I can see how you're looking at me,” Lionel said. “You're thinking about that Jerry Sandusky fool from Penn State who molested all those boys. Don't get any ideas.”

The ladies laughed.

The evening flowed nicely. The food was delicious and hearty. The wine was nice and flowed like water. The conversations ranged from raising kids to travel to the Presidential election to the awkwardness of blind dates.

“Funny, but I never felt uncomfortable tonight,” Lionel said. “This has been great. My man Mitch took care of me, introduced me to a couple of nice women.”

Something in those words forced Brenda to focus more on Mitch. She found herself looking across the able at him, as if drawn to him. She could not understand it—until then. She was not just looking at him anymore; she was staring.

Her heartbeat increased and she excused herself to go to the bathroom. “Want me to go with you?” Madeline asked.

Brenda sipped some water. “No, it's fine. I'll be right back,” she said.

She collected herself and made it to the restroom. She was glad it was empty. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was shocked. But she was sure: Madeline's friend, Mitch, was the young love of her life, Mitchell English.

Brenda had not seen him in more than forty years. When last she did, he walked away with tears in his eyes after she refused to marry him. She was pregnant by her eventual husband, James, but he still wanted her to be his wife.

Now there he was, sitting across the table from her. How could it be? How small i
s
the world? More importantly, what would she do? Should she tell Madeline first? Should she pull Mitchell to the side? Should she do it at the table? And did he realize who she was?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that every time she looked at him, he was looking at her. He
did
know, she thought.
At the very least he was studying me, trying to figure out how I'd look more than forty years later
, she thought.

Brenda did not know what to do, how to handle it, but she washed her hands, took a deep breath and went back to the table. Both of the men stood up to greet her. Lionel held her chair for her.

“Gentlemen,” Brenda said. “Thought they went out with bell bottoms. Thank you.”

She got settled in her seat and refused to look up at Mitch. She immediately started talking about a bad blind date experience.

“My friend, Celeste, set me up with this man about three months ago,” Brenda began. “And, look at me, I'm five-foot-five. This man she introduced me to was the same height as me. Now,
I don't have anything against short men. Just keep them away from me.”

Everyone laughed. She glanced at Mitchell and her heart fluttered. That smile was the one that owned her heart when she was twenty. She knew for sure then. And she was panicked.

She also knew then that he knew because he stared at her as if he was sending a message.

“Mitchell,” she said to him. Just hearing her say his name made him sit up in his seat.

“Mitch,” Madeline corrected Brenda. “Not Mitchell.”

“Actually,” he said, “Mitchell is my given name. Only a few people in the world still call me that.”

He stared at Brenda as he spoke. “But most people call me ‘Mitch,' ” he added. Then he said, “You were going to ask me a question.”

“I was,” Brenda said. “I was going to ask how did you pick Lionel to bring with you for me to meet?”

“Good question,” Madeline said.

Mitchell smiled and looked away. Then he said, “From the way Madeline described you, I figured you deserved to meet a man who is a good man, committed, smart…someone you'd be comfortable with. Did I do you justice?”

Brenda glanced at Lionel and looked back at Mitchell. “Let me put it to you this way: I am really glad I am sitting here right now,” she said.

Everyone smiled as Brenda reached for her wine. Then she remembered that Madeline called Mitchell from Brenda's phone because Madeline's battery was weak. She had his cell number and thought of texting him to meet her near the bathrooms. Her mind was consumed with how to broach the subject and how to get a few minutes alone with him.

She did her best to learn more about him while not seeming as if she was prying.

“So how is it that two fine men like you are single?” Brenda asked, while grinning with Madeline.

“Yes, I'd like to know the same thing,” Madeline said.

“Unfortunately,” Lionel said, “I am a widower. My wife passed a few years ago now. Kidney failure… And I have not found that one woman since. Didn't even know how to begin to start my life again, really. So…”

“Sorry to hear that, Lionel,” Madeline said. “I can relate to losing a spouse. My husband died about a year ago, suddenly.”

“I understand what you're going through,” Lionel said. “Be patient. Somehow, you'll find your way.”

“And you, Mitchell?” Brenda asked. She was not in a mood to hear Madeline's story.

“Well, I have been divorced for a while now,” he answered. “I think there could be just one person really meant for you. And she was not it.”

She knew Mitchell was speaking to her in code. She was so excited and amazed and scared that she did not know what to do.

“Lionel, so where did you meet Mitchell?” she asked.

“We actually met in the Army many years ago in North Carolina and stayed in touch. Then we ran into each other years later in Korea. I'm from out here, Oakland. Always felt I'd come back this way when I retired. So I have been back on the West Coast for a long time now. When he told me he was moving to San Diego, it was great because we could get together regularly.”

“And you and Madeline met in Atlanta, right, Mitchell?” Brenda asked.

“We did,” Mitch said. “I was visiting a few months ago.”

“That's it?” Madeline asked. “There's more to it than that.
Lionel gave a better answer about meeting you than you gave about meeting me.”

She smiled as she said it, but Madeline was a little perturbed by his answer. “Oh, I wasn't trying to bore folks with the details,” he said. “I was just getting to the point.”

“Why would anyone be bored by how we met?” Madeline asked.

“Excuse me; wrong use of words,” he said. “Brenda, I was visiting your fair city to play golf before the weather broke and visiting with my sister, who I hadn't seen in a long time. She and Madeline here happen to go to the same church. And at the end of service we were introduced by a friend of my sister's and have been sort of pals since then.”

“Now that story was sounding good until the ‘pals' part,” Madeline said.

“Everything is a process,” he said. “Gotta be pals to get anywhere else.”

“Pals sounds a little too buddy-buddy for me,” Madeline said.

“It's really just semantics,” Mitchell said. “I came all the way up here from San Diego and then drove ninety minutes because I wanted to see you. And I'm glad I did.”

He looked at Brenda as he said that last sentence. And she knew he was trying to say to her that Madeline meant nothing to him. But to draw his attention back to her, Madeline leaned into Mitchell's ear and whispered into it. It was if she sensed his interest in Brenda or Brenda's in him—or just felt that she was not getting enough attention.

The last thing Brenda wanted to do was upset Madeline. They had spent the better part of three days together and had overcome some hang-ups in order to, for the first time, feel like friends, like family. Their kids were elated about it, and so she did not want to upset that which was just built.

At the same time, she had told the group on Thanksgiving that she remained in love or “the idea of love” with Mitchell after more than four decades. Now, miraculously, he was sitting across from her. How could she simply let him drive off, even if she did have his phone number? She was headed back across country the next evening.

Then a small miracle happened: Lionel excused himself to take a call from his son and Madeline spilled a little Shiraz on her dress and excused herself to tend to it. This happened at the same time.

Brenda took a deep breath as Madeline rose from the table. Mitch helped her out of her chair and he did not sit back down. Rather, he stood across from Brenda, staring down on her. So, she rose from her chair, all the while looking into his eyes, the same eyes that were so hurt many years before.

He moved Madeline's chair out of the way and approached Brenda, who was defenseless. Mitchell delicately placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Brenda,” he said.

“Mitchell,” she said. “I can't believe this. It's really you.”

He shook his head. “This is amazing,” he said. “I have thought about you so often over all these years.”

“I have never stopped thinking about you,” Brenda said. “I even got on my daughter's Facebook page and put your name in there to see if I could find you.”