Page 22 of Capturing Hearts

Chapter Seventeen

Annie

I cannot get enough of this pan-seared sea bass. Or these mashed potatoes. Or this Chicken Yakitori. Or these oysters. Or this…

Margaret smiles to Joe, briefly interrupting him. “Can you pass me the last lobster tempura?”

Damn. There goes that.

He doesn’t miss a beat as he hands the appetizer plate to his powerhouse wife, C.F.O. of the ad agency Location Times Three, where Brendan works. His focus is locked on Brendan, the Ebola virus controversy heavy on his mind. “Look, they should have never let them get on that plane.”

Brendan leans forward, a juicy chunk of filet mignon on his fork shining in the candlelight. “And then the one woman went on a cruise! They said they’re monitoring them. How? Don’t monitor them, make them stay inside!” He slides the steak into his mouth, his mind on the subject.

“How is it?” I ask, eyeing some for myself.

Distracted, Brendan mumbles, “Good.” To Joe, he says, “They’re saying that’s amoral,” disgusted with the logic.

Sliding another oyster into my mouth, I glance around 5A5 Steakhouse. It’s interesting to me how far I’ve come, that I’m one of these people now, sitting next to corporate types in a white table-clothed booth in a five star restaurant, not having to worry about the bill. It almost feels normal. Margaret is wearing a beige sheath dress, for Pete’s sake! I never would have hung out with a woman like her before. Which still shows in our lack of conversation. The men are the focal point…and so is this food.

So mouth-watering good, this food.

Joe shouts, his hand articulating the point, “Exactly! It’s amoral to quarantine them??! How is that amoral? Isn’t it amoral to all the people they’re possibly infecting, to let them get onto a damn plane in the first place? Or a cruise ship with thousands of other people?”

Margaret adds, dryly, looking around to all of us. “Not to mention all the places the ship stops for sight-seeing.”

“Brendan, can I have a bite of that?” I’ve got my fork ready and waiting but he doesn’t hear me.

“I’ve heard it’s because Africa is going to be the perfect place to start a future world. But that’s a little crazy isn’t?”

Joe shakes his head, picking up his glass of ninety-dollar Scotch. “Is it?” His eyebrows rise. “Is it crazy?”

With my eye still on the filet mignon, I offer, “Well, if you’re suggesting population control…”

Joe puts his glass back down and meets my eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“First of all, that’s horrifying.”

Margaret nods, holding her half-empty wine glass to her lips. “It’s terrible.”

Brendan slices off a nice little chunk of steak as he talks. “Here’s the thing about population control theories. If you’re going to let an outbreak happen, aren’t you worried about the people you love getting affected, too?” He slides it over onto my plate. He did hear me! I grin, popping it happily into my mouth.

“Thank you, baby,” I mumble over a yummy mouthful.

Joe argues, “I don’t think they’re thinking that far ahead.”

Margaret shakes her head as if she knows all. “No one ever plays the tape all the way through.” At my look, she explains, “To see what happens at the end. Everyone just jumps off with an idea never thinking what will happen.”

“Ah. Well, this is a wonderful dinner conversation. Disease and murder. Yay,” I say with a smile, not offended, but looking to lighten it up a bit.

Neither Joe nor Brendan wants to let go, but Brendan makes a noise and shuts the conversation down anyway. “It just makes no sense is all.”

Joe agrees. “It’s a fucking disease.” His hand slices the air. “I’m sorry they got it. But they got it. Now that they have it, let’s make sure it stays put. How hard is that to understand?”

“Call the president,” Margaret smiles.

He leans back. “Yeah. Would that I could. So what about you kids? I figured for sure we’d have to cancel tonight because of the baby.”

“Thank you for meeting us early. I really appreciate it.”

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