Table for Seven by Whitney Gaskell Page A

looked fragile and shrunken, and hisface was a web of lines. Still, his eyes were a sharp, bright blue and he seemed alert.
    “I would get up, but it would take so long you’d grow bored waiting for me,” Leland said, gesturing to the curved cane resting against the chair.
    “Then, I’ll come to you,” Coop said. He stepped forward to shake Leland’s hand. “And please, call me Coop.”
    “And this is Audrey, who you also met on New Year’s,” Fran said.
    Coop turned. Audrey had glossy dark hair cut into a short angled bob that showed off a long, graceful neck. Her smile reached her brown eyes, causing faint laugh lines to appear at the corners.
    Coop pointed at her. “You were on door duty and said I was lucky not to have been named Phoenix,” he said.
    “Good memory,” Audrey said. She was wearing very high heels and dark red lipstick, a combination Coop was very much in favor of.
    Coop covertly checked for a ring on her fourth finger. There wasn’t one. The evening was looking up, he decided. This time when he smiled, he didn’t hold back—he went for the full dazzling effect. Strangely, Audrey didn’t swoon or throw her bra at him.
    “Fran told me you make nature documentaries,” Audrey said. “That sounds fascinating. How did you get started in it?”
    “In the most ass backward way possible,” Coop admitted. “When I was fresh out of college, I took a job with a small company down in the Keys that ran boat tours taking tourists out for dives. One day, a production company was looking for some qualified divers to help out with a film theywere making about shipwrecks off Key Largo, and they hired me on. I liked the work and managed to talk my way into a permanent spot with the production company.”
    “Coop can talk his way into just about anything,” Fran interjected.
    “Is that so?” Audrey said, shooting Coop a smile that was encouragingly flirtatious. He accepted the glass of whiskey Jaime handed him.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    “You’re welcome. Leland, can I get you a refill?” Jaime asked.
    “The answer to that question is always an emphatic yes,” Leland said, holding out his glass. Jaime laughed and took his empty tumbler from him.
    “Jaime, do you need any help?” Fran asked.
    “There’s a cheese tray and a plate of gougères in the kitchen. Would you mind bringing them out?” Jaime asked.
    “Sure thing,” Fran said.
    Once they were alone, Coop leaned toward Audrey. “What in the world are gougères?” he murmured.
    She smiled. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
    “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
    “You were saying, about your job—you worked your way up to directing?” Audrey asked.
    “Basically.” Coop nodded. “Directing, and now producing, too. We just wrapped filming a piece about the effects of the coastal tide on marine life off the coast of Nova Scotia.”
    “Wow. That sounds fascinating,” Audrey said.
    “And what do you do?” Coop asked Audrey.
    “I own a day spa.”
    “Sounds very Zen,” Coop said.
    “I hope it’s relaxing for my patrons. But, no, I don’t think the actual running of a business is ever very Zen,” Audrey said.
    “Do you have many male clients?” Coop asked, leaning a bit closer toward Audrey so that his arm brushed against hers. She didn’t move away. Another good sign, he thought.
    “Absolutely,” Audrey said, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s actually a growth area in the industry that I’m hoping to capitalize on. In fact, quite a few of my regular clients are gay guys.”
    Coop blinked, confused by this non sequitur.
    Audrey continued. “I’ve introduced a few men to the joys of manicures. They were resistant at first, but now they’re hooked. In fact, one of my clients keeps telling me I should advertise them as our man -icures. Emphasis on the man part.” Audrey tilted her head and scrutinized him. “Actually, you’d really like him. His name is Ron.” Then she smiled and shook