amazed him, as it so often did at sea. But all he could think about was Laura. They had only been apart one full day. Already it felt like weeks. What was she doing now? What was she thinking? Maybe she was asleep. Or maybe . . . looking up at the same sky.
She must be so frightened.
Before the hurricane hit, they’d walk the Vandervere ’s main deck every night, and they’d have the most wonderful conversations. He loved to hear Laura’s outlook on life, on faith, on food . . . almost anything. On their first few dates she’d held back, unwilling to say anything until he’d almost have to insist. Then she’d say things he’d never heard before, unexpected things. She often made him laugh.
One lunch date in particular came to mind. They were to meet at a small French restaurant on Montgomery Street in San Francisco, just off Broadway. What was its name? He couldn’t recall. He’d invited her there thinking to impress her. The clothing shops and eateries along Montgomery rivaled the finest Paris had to offer.
He waited outside, then caught sight of her walking north down the sidewalk, mingled in a stream of passersby. She walked right past a dress shop, a haberdashery, a shoe store, and finally a jewelry store. She didn’t stop and look at a single window display. Occasionally, she glanced up to catch the sign hanging above each store. Her only interest appeared to be finding the restaurant.
Noticing this, John stood right under the sign of their agreed-upon rendezvous. Wait, that was it . . . Le Rendez-vous Bistro. She saw the sign, looked down, and saw John standing there. He smiled and waved. Her head snapped back. He’d startled her. She smiled and waved back, then hurried her pace to meet him.
Once seated inside, her face was all smiles as she carefully placed a book next to her water glass. “I’m having such a wonderful time with this novel,” she said.
Pleasure reading was a pastime he was glad to learn they shared. “What is it?”
“The latest book by Melville.”
“The one who wrote Moby Dick ,” John said.
“That’s him. It’s called The Confidence Man. ” She picked it up, held it like a fine vase.
“May I get your drinks, monsieur . . . mademoiselle?”
John looked up at the waiter. “Coffee for me. Laura?”
“The same.”
“Very good,” the waiter said and walked away.
John smiled and thought about the appropriate pleasantries normally exchanged when people met, particularly a gentleman and a lady so early in their courtship. But Laura was different. She began their date bursting with excitement about a book.
John loved it. “So what do you like about it so far?”
Laura took a deep breath. “So many things! For one, it’s so different than Moby Dick . It’s still Melville but, I don’t know, it’s lighter and the characters—to me, anyway—are much more interesting. The story begins on April Fool’s Day on a Mississippi steamboat heading to New Orleans.”
“I think I remember reading a review of it back in April,” John said. “When it first came out. It wasn’t very kind. I think the review said the book would certainly sell, if only because Melville wrote it, but it wasn’t up to his other works.”
“John,” she said, pretending to scold. “Since when do you care what some highbrowed reviewer thinks? Promise me you’ll read it when I’m through.”
“I’ll give it five chapters.”
“It starts a bit slow. You must give it at least ten before you decide.”
“Ten then.”
The waiter returned with their coffee, served in china cups with a floral print. “Are you ready to order, monsieur?”
They hadn’t even looked at the menus yet. Laura quickly picked hers up. “Give us one minute,” John said.
“Very well.” He walked away.
Laura leaned toward him and said quietly, “I can’t read a single word of this.”
“That’s not a problem. Do you like beef tips?”
“Yes.”
“How about simmered and served in a
She must be so frightened.
Before the hurricane hit, they’d walk the Vandervere ’s main deck every night, and they’d have the most wonderful conversations. He loved to hear Laura’s outlook on life, on faith, on food . . . almost anything. On their first few dates she’d held back, unwilling to say anything until he’d almost have to insist. Then she’d say things he’d never heard before, unexpected things. She often made him laugh.
One lunch date in particular came to mind. They were to meet at a small French restaurant on Montgomery Street in San Francisco, just off Broadway. What was its name? He couldn’t recall. He’d invited her there thinking to impress her. The clothing shops and eateries along Montgomery rivaled the finest Paris had to offer.
He waited outside, then caught sight of her walking north down the sidewalk, mingled in a stream of passersby. She walked right past a dress shop, a haberdashery, a shoe store, and finally a jewelry store. She didn’t stop and look at a single window display. Occasionally, she glanced up to catch the sign hanging above each store. Her only interest appeared to be finding the restaurant.
Noticing this, John stood right under the sign of their agreed-upon rendezvous. Wait, that was it . . . Le Rendez-vous Bistro. She saw the sign, looked down, and saw John standing there. He smiled and waved. Her head snapped back. He’d startled her. She smiled and waved back, then hurried her pace to meet him.
Once seated inside, her face was all smiles as she carefully placed a book next to her water glass. “I’m having such a wonderful time with this novel,” she said.
Pleasure reading was a pastime he was glad to learn they shared. “What is it?”
“The latest book by Melville.”
“The one who wrote Moby Dick ,” John said.
“That’s him. It’s called The Confidence Man. ” She picked it up, held it like a fine vase.
“May I get your drinks, monsieur . . . mademoiselle?”
John looked up at the waiter. “Coffee for me. Laura?”
“The same.”
“Very good,” the waiter said and walked away.
John smiled and thought about the appropriate pleasantries normally exchanged when people met, particularly a gentleman and a lady so early in their courtship. But Laura was different. She began their date bursting with excitement about a book.
John loved it. “So what do you like about it so far?”
Laura took a deep breath. “So many things! For one, it’s so different than Moby Dick . It’s still Melville but, I don’t know, it’s lighter and the characters—to me, anyway—are much more interesting. The story begins on April Fool’s Day on a Mississippi steamboat heading to New Orleans.”
“I think I remember reading a review of it back in April,” John said. “When it first came out. It wasn’t very kind. I think the review said the book would certainly sell, if only because Melville wrote it, but it wasn’t up to his other works.”
“John,” she said, pretending to scold. “Since when do you care what some highbrowed reviewer thinks? Promise me you’ll read it when I’m through.”
“I’ll give it five chapters.”
“It starts a bit slow. You must give it at least ten before you decide.”
“Ten then.”
The waiter returned with their coffee, served in china cups with a floral print. “Are you ready to order, monsieur?”
They hadn’t even looked at the menus yet. Laura quickly picked hers up. “Give us one minute,” John said.
“Very well.” He walked away.
Laura leaned toward him and said quietly, “I can’t read a single word of this.”
“That’s not a problem. Do you like beef tips?”
“Yes.”
“How about simmered and served in a
Similar Books
