Doris was her best friend.Of all the people she knew, Georgia was still surprised she and Doris had ended up best friends. They hadn’t grownup together, met in college or worked at the same place. They weren’t even the same age. Doris was younger. They met socially at some boring event
their husbands talked them into attending. They were seated at the same table, chatted
away the evening and decided to meet for lunch. They started meeting on a regular basis
and became close.

    Georgia sighed and looked at her watch. She had arrived first, as
always. She’d waited outside, enjoying the warm fall breeze; but she finally decided
she’d rather be sipping a drink. So, she pushed open the glass doors and stepped into the
coolness of the quaint little restaurant. It was bright and cheery with colorful prints,
original paintings, wooden tables, and multicolored upright chairs.

    “God, I’m famished,” she mumbled.

    “Are you talking to me?” The voice belonged to a tall, skinny youngstewith a long blonde ponytail and a wideopen smile. He was walking towards her, picking up a menu from a sturdy stand.

    “Actually, I was talking to myself,” she said, smiling back. “I’m impatiently waiting for my friend.”

    “Why don’t I show you a table? You can look atthe menu or order a drink while you’re waiting.”

    “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

    “How about the patio? There’s one table left.”

    “I didn’t know you had a patio. That sounds great.”

    The waiter nodded, zigzagged around the small crowded room and stepped out into the sunlight. Georgia was close behind. He seated her at a round table protected from the sun by a large bold, red and white striped umbrella.
 
    “What would you like to drink?” he asked, handing her the menu.

    “White wine, please, a Chardonnay.”

    “Any particular label?”

    “The house brand’s fine.”

    “I’ll be right back.”
 
    She laid her sunglasses on the table, hung her purse on the back of her chair and looked around the patio. It was small and intimate with six tables comfortably spaced. They were covered with white cloths that fell gracefully to the sun bleached floor. Healthy green plants in huge clay pots hugged the corners; and beautiful blooming flowers surrounded its edges, their perfumed
scent permeating the air. The sun was inviting.

    The waiter was back, quickly. He placed a wineglass in front of her.  “Would you like to order now?”

    “I’ll wait.”

    He smiled again, showing a mouthful of braces and walked away from the table.

    She took a sip of wine, tasted its coldness and felt herself beginning to relax. She leaned back in her chair and noticed the young man. She smoothed her short hair back with the palm of her hand, wishing she had gone along with her hairdresser’s suggestion to cover the gray with burgundy or henna or some ridiculous thing. She took another sip and wondered why she was thinking such foolish thoughts. She liked the gray in her hair, thought it added something to her good looks.
 
    She was striking. Her face was wrinkle free; no bags clung to her eyes, and she still had only one chin. Her rich brown skin was smooth and flawless. She was a little overweight, but it wasn’t too noticeable on her five-foot, eight-inch frame.
 
    She covered her eyes with her Anne Klein sunglasses, hoping to protect her thoughts, and looked again. He was cute. No, not cute. Cute sounded too childish. He was handsome. No, that sounded too cliché. He was . . . attractive, she finally decided; and looked away. She glanced impatiently at her watch, again, and wished Doris would get there. She felt ridiculous exchanging stares with a white boy young enough to be her son.

    She felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Sorry I’m late.”

    She jumped, turned and saw her friend. Doris was tall and slim, looked like a beauty queen. “God, you look fabulous,”Georgia said, giving her a hug.
 
    “Look who’s talking.” Doris’ voice was soft, slightly hesitant. Georgia laughed, and hugged her again. “I’m sorry I’m late. I know you get tired of hearing that, but it’s true.”

    “I’m just glad you’re here. I’m famished.” Georgia always forgot about her friend’s soft voice, how she had to move close to hear all of Doris’ words, how the softness made her own voice sound loud.

    “So am I.” Doris pulled out a chair and eased herself down. “Have you ordered yet?”

    Georgia shook her head. “I was waiting for you.”

    “What’s good?”
 
    “Everything.” Georgia laughed. “I can never decide what I want, so I usually end up ordering the same thing.”
 
    The waiter seemed to appear out of nowhere. “I see your friend got here.” He gave Doris one of his wideopen smiles and handed her a menu.

    “Regardless of what she told you, I always show up,” Doris said.

    “I’ll have a glass of white wine, too, house brand.”He hurried off, his ponytail swinging
gently.

    “I didn’t know this place had a deck.” She leaned back in her chair. “It’s lovely
out here.”

    “Isn’t it nice?” Georgia stole another quick glance, surprised to see an older man sitting at the table. They seemed engrossed in conversation. The young man was talking, his long slender fingers moving in fluid graceful motion. She wondered how he could eat and talk at the same time.

    “What are you having?” Doris didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re right, everything does sound good. I think I’ll have the shrimp salad.” She put the menu on the table. “And a piece of coconut pie,” she added with a laugh.

    “Hmm, that sounds good. I think I’ll have a salad, too, the Chinese Chicken. Want
to share the pie?”

    “Hey, why not. I don’t need it.”

    The waiter came back with the wine and took their orders.“So, how are things?” Georgia asked, sipping at her drink, enjoying her friend.

    “I’m sick of my job, my husband’s acting like a fool again, and my kids hate me; but other than that . . . ” Doris laughed at the skepticism on Georgia’s face. “You know everything’s fine. How are things with you? How’s Evan, Jess?”

    “Evan and Jess are fine,” she said, dismissing them. “Guess what?”
 
    “I’m not into guessing. Just tell me.”

    Georgia laughed. “I’m working on a new story.” She hadn’t been writing. All of her thoughts
seemed to have dried up. Doris kept telling her they would come, but she’d had her
doubts.

    “I told you.”

    She laughed, again. “It’s amazing. The thoughts are coming freely,
crowding my head like they want to write themselves.” She leaned across the table, her
words tumbling out of her mouth. “It feels right, Doris, flows easily.” She shook her
head, “Listen to me, you’d think I was a writer or something.”

    “You are a writer. Can I read it before it’s perfect?”

    “You always do.” They smiled at each other and sipped at their wine.

    “What in the world are you looking at?” Doris asked, catching her glancing
across the patio.

    “There’s an attractive guy over there.”

    “Really. Where?” Doris turned in her chair.

    “See the one in the white shirt talking with his hands.”

    “Since when do you find white men attractive?”

    “Since now.” She laughed, feeling ridiculous. “He’s been staring
at me.”

    “That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a very good-looking woman. Why are you so surprised when a man finds you so?”

    “Because I’m old, fat, married and . . . ”

    “Will you stop? Married, yes, but certainly not old or fat.” Doris couldn’t quite hide her
annoyance.

    The waiter brought their food.

    Georgia nibbled at her salad and took another peek. The young man was putting on his jacket. She watched him pick up his bill, wondered why she wished he wasn’t leaving.

    He caught her looking, gave her a wideopen grin as he started towards her. She lowered her eyes, concentrated on eating, tried to act like she was talking to Doris. She felt him getting closer, felt the panic beginning in her stomach. What if he stopped? She kept her eyes on the table, saw well-manicured fingers place a small white card next to her empty wineglass. She read the elegant print, raised her head and saw him just inside the door. She saw the surprise on Doris’ face, couldn’t stop the laughter from spilling out of her mouth. Picking up thecard, she slipped it into her suit pocket.