about."
About a dinner invitation? She really did live in a wholly different world from mine. With me, there were only two things to consider: could I and did I want to. And perhaps also the type of food. But that decision couldn't possibly take a whole week - could it? "Why? Can you not decide whether you'd like Chinese or Italian?" As banal as that seemed to me, maybe it had a deeper meaning for her.
She laughed. "It's not that simple," she said. This line of reasoning was too much for me. I couldn't imagine any convincing grounds for this degree of complication. And I couldn't wait another week, I was sure of that. So it was now or never!
"Could you accept an invitation to meet at a place outside the city that's just opened, doesn't serve Chinese or Italian, and has a patio?" That truly left all possibilities open. It was neither too intimate nor too casual, and on a mild summer evening - who knew what might happen?
A sound came through the line that didn't sound too unlike a chuckle. "You're really stubborn," she said.
"Well, yes, it's hard work to convince you to go out to eat, I'll admit that. But for --" a beautiful woman, I wanted to say, but that would surely bore her since she heard it every day, so I finished with "a good meal, I'll do almost anything." That would have to do!
"Well, then...," she agreed goodnaturedly. "But I still have to put you off. I can't today. The first I could go is tomorrow."
Immediately, the wildest of possibilities flew through my head as to why she couldn't go out tonight. There could really only be one reason: she already had another commitment. And I could imagine with whom. It was certainly with a client.
A client, who was more important to her than I was. So we were back to square one. I suppressed a new wave of anger and the impulse to contradict her. "Should I pick you up or should we meet somewhere?" I asked instead.
"Tell me where it is. Then we'll meet there." She seemed to want to avoid dependence on me by all means possible. Although it seemed to me to be rather environmentally irresponsible to go in separate cars, it was clear that she wouldn't agree to anything else. So I told her the address.
"Oh, yes, I've heard of the place," she said in acknowledgment. Lightning flashed through my head again. From whom, I wanted to ask. But I didn't.
"When?" I asked.
"Eight o'clock," she answered, without thinking. She had her schedule memorized. That must help her avoid jealousy and embarrassment.
"Then I'll see you there," I said finally.
"I'll be there," she assured me.
I hung up hesitantly. I would've liked to talk with her more, but there was absolutely no reason to go on. And I would see her the next day, or so I hoped. Would she keep this kind of date? I didn't know her well enough to predict that. Perhaps she would only come because she still saw a potential client in me, one she didn't want to turn away. Did I want to know that? No, I didn't want to know, I decided. But all that would be clear to me tomorrow after dessert, at the latest.
Chapter 6
S he was already there when I arrived, although I was, contrary to my usual habit, extraordinarily punctual. I'd been staring at the clock all day long, and it took a serious discussion with myself not to come early.
She was sitting under one of the old lime trees that made the patio such a lovely and interesting place, and would certainly make it a popular and crowded meeting place soon. Now, it was still relatively empty. I could see her from the entrance before she saw me. It seemed to me that she had dressed quite conservatively, but for my taste still very attractively. I asked myself what that meant. Did she always dress like that for dinner dates, had she had an appointment right before this one that had demanded such an outfit, or had she dressed that way for me? And if the last case was true, what had I to expect?
I wasn't going to solve this mystery standing in the doorway, so I entered the cobblestone
About a dinner invitation? She really did live in a wholly different world from mine. With me, there were only two things to consider: could I and did I want to. And perhaps also the type of food. But that decision couldn't possibly take a whole week - could it? "Why? Can you not decide whether you'd like Chinese or Italian?" As banal as that seemed to me, maybe it had a deeper meaning for her.
She laughed. "It's not that simple," she said. This line of reasoning was too much for me. I couldn't imagine any convincing grounds for this degree of complication. And I couldn't wait another week, I was sure of that. So it was now or never!
"Could you accept an invitation to meet at a place outside the city that's just opened, doesn't serve Chinese or Italian, and has a patio?" That truly left all possibilities open. It was neither too intimate nor too casual, and on a mild summer evening - who knew what might happen?
A sound came through the line that didn't sound too unlike a chuckle. "You're really stubborn," she said.
"Well, yes, it's hard work to convince you to go out to eat, I'll admit that. But for --" a beautiful woman, I wanted to say, but that would surely bore her since she heard it every day, so I finished with "a good meal, I'll do almost anything." That would have to do!
"Well, then...," she agreed goodnaturedly. "But I still have to put you off. I can't today. The first I could go is tomorrow."
Immediately, the wildest of possibilities flew through my head as to why she couldn't go out tonight. There could really only be one reason: she already had another commitment. And I could imagine with whom. It was certainly with a client.
A client, who was more important to her than I was. So we were back to square one. I suppressed a new wave of anger and the impulse to contradict her. "Should I pick you up or should we meet somewhere?" I asked instead.
"Tell me where it is. Then we'll meet there." She seemed to want to avoid dependence on me by all means possible. Although it seemed to me to be rather environmentally irresponsible to go in separate cars, it was clear that she wouldn't agree to anything else. So I told her the address.
"Oh, yes, I've heard of the place," she said in acknowledgment. Lightning flashed through my head again. From whom, I wanted to ask. But I didn't.
"When?" I asked.
"Eight o'clock," she answered, without thinking. She had her schedule memorized. That must help her avoid jealousy and embarrassment.
"Then I'll see you there," I said finally.
"I'll be there," she assured me.
I hung up hesitantly. I would've liked to talk with her more, but there was absolutely no reason to go on. And I would see her the next day, or so I hoped. Would she keep this kind of date? I didn't know her well enough to predict that. Perhaps she would only come because she still saw a potential client in me, one she didn't want to turn away. Did I want to know that? No, I didn't want to know, I decided. But all that would be clear to me tomorrow after dessert, at the latest.
Chapter 6
S he was already there when I arrived, although I was, contrary to my usual habit, extraordinarily punctual. I'd been staring at the clock all day long, and it took a serious discussion with myself not to come early.
She was sitting under one of the old lime trees that made the patio such a lovely and interesting place, and would certainly make it a popular and crowded meeting place soon. Now, it was still relatively empty. I could see her from the entrance before she saw me. It seemed to me that she had dressed quite conservatively, but for my taste still very attractively. I asked myself what that meant. Did she always dress like that for dinner dates, had she had an appointment right before this one that had demanded such an outfit, or had she dressed that way for me? And if the last case was true, what had I to expect?
I wasn't going to solve this mystery standing in the doorway, so I entered the cobblestone
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