A Leisurely Lunch
companion piece to "Leisure"
by Cristina Trask
Ubiquitous disclaimer: "Remember WENN" and its characters are copyright Rupert Holmes, Howard Meltzer and AMC (grrr.) This story is copyright Cristina Trask, 1999. All rights reserved. No infringement intended.
Italics indicates thought
Scott stole glances at Betty from over the top of his menu. She was concentrating on the tablecloth, the other customers, everything but him. Their short walk from her building had been easy and friendly. However, conversation took a dive upon entering the restaurant. At the moment, Scott had no idea what was wrong. And if he didn't know what was wrong, how could he sweet-talk his way out of it?
"Is something the matter, Betty?"
"No, of course not," she said too cheerfully. "Why would anything be wrong?"
Scott decided to let it go for the present. "What looks good?" He returned to the menu.
"Hmm?" Betty's eyes were looking through him.
"I just said that Hitler is actually a plumber from New York." Something definitely had Betty's attention. Scott continued in his casual way, "And I've decided to take up ballet."
"What, Scott?" She appeared startled. "I'm sorry. I wasn't listening."
He lowered an eyebrow. "That's an understatement." Scott put the menu aside. "Come on. Let's have it."
Betty hesitated. "Victor." She stumbled over the name. Then she pursed her lips as if mustering strength. "Victor brought me here for dinner once."
Scott nodded in understanding while kicking himself for the mistake. The last thing he needed was a third to lunch, and that third being a ghost. "We can leave," he offered.
"No, no. I'm all right. Actually, I feel better, having told you."
Scott grinned. Okay, enough of that. "Have you ever eaten squid?"
She contorted her face in disgust. "No!" she exclaimed, laughing in spite of herself.
Good work, he thought with relief. Scott started into one of his longwinded stories from his ocean adventures. This particular rigmarole featured roast squid. He soon had Betty entranced and far from melancholy thoughts. He only paused the telling of his tale to order the lunch special for both of them.
"You ate that for a week?" Betty's incredulous face also reflected admiration.
"Absolutely! Once we even..." Scott looked over his shoulder to see what or who Betty's gaze had become fixed on.
"Hello, Doug!" Betty greeted the man approaching their table.
"This is an unexpected surprise." Doug gently shook Betty's offered hand.
Just when you thought it was safe... Scott's scowl transformed into an insincere smile. "Unexpected, yes. Surprise, yes. Welcome? No."
"Scott!" Betty hissed.
"No, it's okay, Betty. I was just on my way out." Doug smiled at her. Then he turned to Scott. "I perfectly understand Mr. Sherwood's wish to have you to himself. Good afternoon."
Betty's smile followed Doug's retreat. She slowly focused her disapproving gaze on the man across from her.
"See, Betty; he understood," Scott placated himself. "Piece of cake. No harm done." When her face did not soften, he meekly returned to his meal.
Betty followed his example. They remained basically silent throughout the rest of the dinner. Scott, the intrinsic talker, tried several openings to lure Betty into conversation. After she wet-blanketed his fifth attempt, Scott gave up in embarrassed silence. He had no doubt that she was punishing him for his lack of politeness. The old glitter leapt into his eyes. Then he would punish her...with kindness. That was the one thing that Betty Roberts could not resist.
To test the water, Scott "accidentally" let his leg brush hers underneath the table. Betty glared at him, tight-lipped.
"Sorry." He apologized as innocently as was possible for a Sherwood. He tried a new tack. "Do you need more water?"
She nodded, never looking up from her plate. Scott made eye contact with a waiter, who soon refilled Betty's glass.
"Thank you," she acknowledged quietly.
"You're welcome," came simultaneously from Scott and the waiter. Scott glared at the waiter, who excused himself. Scott turned his attention back to Betty. Apparently she was finished eating.
"We can leave whenever you're ready." His manner was solicitous.
"Oh, whenever you're ready," she countered politely, still distant with a vengeance.
"Shall we?" He smiled and stood to help Betty with her coat.
As she turned around to thank him, the person in the chair behind her suddenly pushed into her, forcing Betty against Scott's chest. "Beg your pardon," someone muttered.
Scott silently blessed the stranger's unexpected shove. Betty quickly righted herself and pushed out of Scott's embrace. He let his hands linger on her arms to ascertain that she had her footing. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." Betty straightened her coat lapels and started for the door.
Scott sighed. This hadn't turned out the way he'd planned. Heck, it rarely did! Feeling defeated, he headed after Betty to pay the bill.
=-=-=-=-=-=
What an afternoon. Betty washed out her cocoa mug from earlier that morning. The memory of Scott's blunders and would-be gallantries made her smile. All he had tried to do was take her out for a nice leisurely lunch. Why be defensive about that?
She put a record onto the turn table and let it play. But his most heartwarming action had been apologizing for his behavior to Doug. Betty wasn't sure if he was sorry for the action itself, or sorry that it had made her upset. Either way, it's the thought that counts. She remembered the nights after Victor's death when Scott would follow her home. At first, she'd been annoyed. Then it became clear that he was just trying to protect her in his own way. Perhaps his protectiveness had occasioned his attitude toward Doug.
Betty moved Scott's vaseful of flowers to the window sill. She smiled to herself as she caressed the yellow blossoms.
The End
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