Page 43 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
I waited until he opened my door, and he held out his hand for me to take. He helped me stand, and I was extra glad. It was hard enough to get out in flats, let alone heels. I stood and looked up at him. I still only came up to his shoulders. He closed the door and locked the car, leaving it on the yellow lines.
“You’ll need to hold my hand,” I whispered.
“Scared?”
“No, I can’t walk in these things,” I replied. “And scared. I don’t remember the last time I ate out in a place I wasn’t working.”
He squeezed my hand as we entered.
“Mr. Wolfe,” someone said, and a shortish man come running over.
He greeted Sebastian with an enthusiastic handshake. Sebastian didn’t look overly amused. “Come. I have a wonderful table for you.”
He first led us to one in the middle of the restaurant. I watched as people turned to look and stare at us.
“Somewhere a little more private?” Sebastian asked.
“Of course, sure, sure,” came the reply. The man scuttled off in front of us.
We came to a more suitable table along the wall. “This is much better, thank you,” Sebastian said.
The man pulled my chair out for me, and I sat, smoothing the sequins as I did. I crossed my ankles, a throwback to when Grandma would correct my posture as a child. I recalled her words.
Una dama nunca cruza las piernas, solo los tobillos, she’d say.
“What’s funny?” he asked, taking the seat in front of me.
“I just remembered something my grandma used to say.A lady never crosses her legs, just her ankles.She used to get mad at me for slouching.”
“A wise woman. I don’t want you to cross your legs, either.”
I squinted at him. “For posture reasons?”
“No, for accessibility,” he said, and then laughed.
I was handed a menu and was glad! I used it to fan my face.
“Would you let me order for you?” he asked. I squinted at him again. “I want you to try things I don’t think you would have.”
“What if I don’t like them?”
“Then you don’t like them.”
I placed the menu down on the table. “Okay.”
He smiled. “It pleases me that you trust me, Ruby.”
“Well, I’m super glad about that.” I reminded myself I needed to lower the sarcasm notch just a little.
A waitress came by, and he ordered a bottle of whitewine. He looked at me as he did and I nodded, pleased to have been included in at least what I drank. He also asked for a bottle of mineral water.
“I do wish I’d known it was your birthday,” he said.
“Why? What does it matter? I don’t think I’ve ever celebrated a birthday. I only know the date because I have to renew my passport and visa,” I replied.
“Visa?”
“Oh, I wasn’t born here. I have dual nationality, though, and can work here. My mother was English, and my father was Spanish.”
