Alexandre took a last swallow of his espresso. Our plates were almost empty. I'd eaten a lot of the tender steak. (Alexandre had poured juice from a little silver pitcher over it.) Then, salad, potatoes, several slices of the delicious warm five herb bread, lots and lots of champagne and some Mont Blanc, which was chestnuts whipped into meringue.
"Are you finished, Theresa?;" he gestured toward my dishes.
"Yes, but, we could take the leftovers with us." Instantly, I felt embarrassed. Maybe, Alexandre didn't eat leftovers.
He looked at the steak. "Chateaubriand is steak-for-two, but it's usually too much. Of course, we'll take the rest with us. It'll be good for breakfast."
What?... What did he mean by that? Did he think I'd be spending the night with him, or was it just a casual remark? Now, Alexandre was asking Jean-Henri to bring a box. He didn't ask for the check. I guessed they just put it on his bill. He helped me with my cloak, put on his jewelry, his tux jacket, and his cape, took his top hat from Jean-Henri and walking stick. We were out the door. The chilly air of the late Fall night felt very cold to me, through my thin gown and only an ornamental cloak.
I shivered and Alexandre, noticing it, put his arm around my shoulders, surprising me by pulling me into the shelter of his tall warm body, his height making me feel very little..(He was actually about two inches taller because of the heels on the shiny black knee high boots he wore.) Then, he hunched his shoulders over me, as if to protect me. I found that touching, looked up gratefully. He gestured to the valet and soon we were in the Brougham, moving through Cleveland streets. Alexandre looked at me briefly, then returned his gaze to the road. An uneasy silence filled the car. Of course, I knew what was coming.
His voice was soft and slow. "Would you consider coming to my house, Theresa?"
--- Copyright 2021, by Antoinette Beard.
--- Copyright 2021, by Antoinette Beard.
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