Michael
Whatever possessed me to ask her to supper that evening is one of those Great Mysteries perhaps better left unanswered. It's another of those "What if?" scenarios with which a person could drive oneself mad if allowed to sit and contemplate the alternatives for too long a time.
Needless to say, I did ask her, she, with the rather surprising intervention of her cousin, accepted, and that, as they say, was that.
Thank goodness.
"Is this suitable or would you prefer something else?
"
Roby rolled her eyes. Uh-oh.
"For the forty-third time, Michael, this is fine.
This is better than fine, as a matter of fact. You do realize that Taylor wasn't exaggerating when he said that it's been far too long since I stepped foot in a restaurant lacking balloons, crayons, or college students dressed up as oversized rodents? Compared to that, this is like Fantasy Island, you know?
"
I didn't, but the expression on her face made it clear the hotel restaurant was definitely a cut above what she was generally accustomed to, and if I valued my health, I'd not say another word on the subject.
"Point made." Actually, I'd found The Armory to be quite on par with the finer restaurants I'd dined in and seeing as it was located in the hotel where I was staying, it was certainly convenient.
The hostess, recognizing me from earlier forays, led us to a secluded booth in the corner, surmising, quite correctly, that we, or at least I, would prefer the relative privacy. If I'd given it thought, I would probably have dealt with any potential interruptions that might have materialized as a result of sitting at a more visible table, rather than risk any image of impropriety, more for Roby's sake than my own. However, after the evening's frenzy, I couldn't deny the enormous appeal that a private booth held, just in case any fans had discovered where I was staying.
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