frown off her
lips.
“ I asked him to come for dinner,
but he had plans. Vanessa’s in town visiting her cousin, and they
were going out tonight.”
Maeve pressed her hands against my chest and
looked up at me, her heather blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Well, okay then. I suppose you can have dessert.”
Nine
The rest of the week went by in a blur as
Maeve and I got busy with our new academic years. Before we knew
it, Friday afternoon arrived.
We’d barely gotten the Cessna tied down before
Maeve was ready to head to the stable to see Raven.
“ Don't you think we should stop by
the house first?” I inquired reasonably.
Maeve gave me a glare. “I'll drop you off if
you want; I'm going to see my horse.”
I didn't feel like going to the stable, so I
let her drop me off. Thus, a routine was born. Saturdays became
Maeve's riding days.
During football season, if Laney had a home
game, we would go to the game and wait to fly home Saturday
morning. Otherwise, we’d fly up on Friday evening. Early Saturday,
Maeve would rise, cook us breakfast, and head to the stables for
her lessons. The joy she took in learning to ride and getting to
know Raven made me happy for her.
We still sailed. One weekend a month Raven
would have to settle for a Friday night visit so that Maeve and I
could spend the weekend on the water. If the wind and the weather
were right, we would sail to Ocracoke and spend the night. Less
favorable conditions might see us sail and motor to Morehead City
for dinner at the Sanitary Fish Market. Other times we might sail
upriver to New Bern, tie up at Union Point Park and walk to dinner
at one of the restaurants downtown. Eventually the shorter days and
colder weather limited our sailing to the waters close to
home.
The shorter days and longer nights also meant
the semester was coming to an end. Maeve had a good first semester
and was, for the most part, happy being a teacher. My semester went
well, too. Only taking four classes meant less homework and less
stress. Maeve was against my doing that at first, until I reminded
her I really didn’t need to hurry and finish my degree.
Semester’s end also meant the arrival of the
holiday season. With Christmas coming up, Maeve told me Mr. McHale
had polled the faculty about where they would like to have the
staff luncheon.
“ Mr. McHale told us at the staff
meeting that some kind soul had offered to pick up the check so we
could eat out at a nice place instead of having a pot luck buffet
in the cafeteria,” Maeve said. “You wouldn’t know anything about
that, would you, Michael?”
I gave her my best aw shucks grin.
“Well, I might have mentioned something to Mr. McHale about y’all
having a nice party off campus. Where’d you decide to
go?”
“ The overwhelming favorite was
Primavera’s, the new Italian restaurant that opened up on Market
Street last spring.”
“ Primavera’s, huh? I don’t know
about an Italian restaurant that doesn’t serve pizza,” I said.
“What is it Mr. DeLuca says, ‘Primavera’s serves fine Italian
cuisine which, in my opinion, does not include pizza.’ His prices
certainly reflect how fine he thinks his Italian cuisine
is.”
Maeve wrinkled her brow. “Having second
thoughts about your offer?”
I shook my head. “No, a deal’s a deal. And
when we ate there, the food was pretty good.”
“ Yeah,” Maeve said. “I remember
you weren’t very impressed. Didn’t you say you’d rather have a
pizza at Dupree’s?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Babe, I’d
rather have Dupree’s pizza than just about anything
else.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I added, “Except your
cooking, of course. Still, the staff voted for Primavera’s, so
Primavera’s it’ll be.”
According to the story Maeve related to me
later, on the last teacher work day before Christmas, the staff
left campus on an activity bus and made their way to Primavera’s.
Upon arriving, they were welcomed by the
lips.
“ I asked him to come for dinner,
but he had plans. Vanessa’s in town visiting her cousin, and they
were going out tonight.”
Maeve pressed her hands against my chest and
looked up at me, her heather blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Well, okay then. I suppose you can have dessert.”
Nine
The rest of the week went by in a blur as
Maeve and I got busy with our new academic years. Before we knew
it, Friday afternoon arrived.
We’d barely gotten the Cessna tied down before
Maeve was ready to head to the stable to see Raven.
“ Don't you think we should stop by
the house first?” I inquired reasonably.
Maeve gave me a glare. “I'll drop you off if
you want; I'm going to see my horse.”
I didn't feel like going to the stable, so I
let her drop me off. Thus, a routine was born. Saturdays became
Maeve's riding days.
During football season, if Laney had a home
game, we would go to the game and wait to fly home Saturday
morning. Otherwise, we’d fly up on Friday evening. Early Saturday,
Maeve would rise, cook us breakfast, and head to the stables for
her lessons. The joy she took in learning to ride and getting to
know Raven made me happy for her.
We still sailed. One weekend a month Raven
would have to settle for a Friday night visit so that Maeve and I
could spend the weekend on the water. If the wind and the weather
were right, we would sail to Ocracoke and spend the night. Less
favorable conditions might see us sail and motor to Morehead City
for dinner at the Sanitary Fish Market. Other times we might sail
upriver to New Bern, tie up at Union Point Park and walk to dinner
at one of the restaurants downtown. Eventually the shorter days and
colder weather limited our sailing to the waters close to
home.
The shorter days and longer nights also meant
the semester was coming to an end. Maeve had a good first semester
and was, for the most part, happy being a teacher. My semester went
well, too. Only taking four classes meant less homework and less
stress. Maeve was against my doing that at first, until I reminded
her I really didn’t need to hurry and finish my degree.
Semester’s end also meant the arrival of the
holiday season. With Christmas coming up, Maeve told me Mr. McHale
had polled the faculty about where they would like to have the
staff luncheon.
“ Mr. McHale told us at the staff
meeting that some kind soul had offered to pick up the check so we
could eat out at a nice place instead of having a pot luck buffet
in the cafeteria,” Maeve said. “You wouldn’t know anything about
that, would you, Michael?”
I gave her my best aw shucks grin.
“Well, I might have mentioned something to Mr. McHale about y’all
having a nice party off campus. Where’d you decide to
go?”
“ The overwhelming favorite was
Primavera’s, the new Italian restaurant that opened up on Market
Street last spring.”
“ Primavera’s, huh? I don’t know
about an Italian restaurant that doesn’t serve pizza,” I said.
“What is it Mr. DeLuca says, ‘Primavera’s serves fine Italian
cuisine which, in my opinion, does not include pizza.’ His prices
certainly reflect how fine he thinks his Italian cuisine
is.”
Maeve wrinkled her brow. “Having second
thoughts about your offer?”
I shook my head. “No, a deal’s a deal. And
when we ate there, the food was pretty good.”
“ Yeah,” Maeve said. “I remember
you weren’t very impressed. Didn’t you say you’d rather have a
pizza at Dupree’s?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Babe, I’d
rather have Dupree’s pizza than just about anything
else.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I added, “Except your
cooking, of course. Still, the staff voted for Primavera’s, so
Primavera’s it’ll be.”
According to the story Maeve related to me
later, on the last teacher work day before Christmas, the staff
left campus on an activity bus and made their way to Primavera’s.
Upon arriving, they were welcomed by the
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