Page 8 of Awake in Cheshire Bay
“Great, so Antonio, what do you do for a job?”
Yep, I was going to dive headfirst and not check the depth of the water.
He mirrored my pose. “I am…” His gaze darted around enough I worried he was part spy or something. “Real estate… how do you say? …” He paused again, enough that it had me questioning if English wasn’t recently learned. “Developer.”
“Oh.” Well, that wasn’t exciting. However, the way he dressed, walked, and talked, I would’ve pegged him for some corporate mogul or something way higher up on the financial food chain. “Cool. I’m sure you would see many interesting places.”
“Ja.”
I picked up the menu and gave it a solid scan. Even though I’d been to the Grill a million times before, I still perused the choices. And like every time before, I settled on the boring standby of a grilled chicken wrap. I was so predictable that way.
“Did you decide on anything?”
He set his menu down as our waiter appeared with a bottle and two glasses. He twisted off the cap, and I lowered my head in embarrassment. The management here didn’t even spring for corked wine. Yikes. The server poured a little into a glass and gave it to Antonio, who took a taste.
“Dry, but good.”
The server poured two glasses and passed one to me. “Are you ready to order?”
We both nodded, and two pair of eyes settled on me. Guess I was ordering first.
“Okay, I’ll have the Chicken Caesar wrap, easy on the dressing, with fries and a side of gravy. Please.”
The waiter turned to Cheshire Bay’s most mysterious guest.
“The bacon-wrapped tenderloin.” Antonio pointed to the item.
“Mashed or fries.”
“Mashed?” He sounded unsure.
“With the works, or just sour-cream?”
He looked at me before turning to the waiter. “The works?”
“That’s sour cream, chives, and cheddar cheese.” I answered his questioning gaze.
“Ja, that.”
The waiter nodded as he wrote it all down and tucked everything back into the pocket of his apron before stepping over to the nearby patio heater. “Are you cold? I can increase the heat.”
“I’m fine.” Surprisingly, I wasn’t cold at all, and the temperature was perfect for me.
“I good.”
The waiter disappeared back into the restaurant.
Antonio picked up his wine glass and lifted it toward me. “To new friendships.”
“To new friendships.” I lifted my glass and clinked it against his.
His phone rang, interrupting our mini celebration.
“Forgive, ma’am. Excuse.” He rose and answered, speaking in clipped and foreign sentences.
Whatever language he spoke, I couldn’t figure it out. It may have been Italian, but it could’ve been Spanish for all I knew. None of it sounded familiar. While he paced behind me, I sipped at my wine.
“Apologies, ma’am.”