Chapter Two pt. three

 

April 18, 1986

 

His name was Damiano Lucelli, and he was a member of one of the most prominent and well known families in Europe.  He owned several exclusive jewelry stores, one of which was located in the downtown lamplight district.  He came to the United States twice a year for business, and usually stayed for two months at a time.   He was nearing the end of his visit to San Diego and was looking forward to an enjoyable evening.    As was customary, he had a long line of female companions to choose from, but as of late, they had become cumbersome and somewhat predictable.  She had no knowledge of his background so he would not have the menial task of wading through a barrage of tooth-decaying compliments to get what he wanted.

Although he enjoyed driving, he felt it would be best if he had his chauffeur drive so that he would have more time to spend visiting with his young date.  Certain she had never experienced an evening of high class; he made reservations at his favorite Italian restaurant, and hoped his efforts would pay off.

The restaurant was beautiful.  Maggie had never been to an expensive restaurant before, and as she peered up at the crystal chandeliers she thought she could lose herself inside the multi-colored refractions of light. The walls were decorated with deep velvet maroons and soft beige paisleys that reminded her of those turn of the century curtains you see in old movies. 

She decided to wear the white silk sundress with a black midi jacket and a pair of black peek-a-boo heals. She wore very little make-up and a small amount of pearly lip-gloss giving her a soft glow-like appearance. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck with a black bow barrette, and she decided to wear her clear crystal stud earrings.   She still had no idea why she was there and was afraid to ask the stranger staring at her from across the small table.

Her date was handsome enough, she supposed. Well, handsome for someone as old as he was. He was tall, of slender build, and had long, thick curly dark hair with a wiry but closely trimmed and sculpted beard that revealed strong chiseled features. He wore a dark, tailored, pin-striped suit, white shirt that was unbuttoned and loose, and no tie. In reality he looked to be in his early thirties, but to Maggie he may as well have been eighty.

“He’s probably not even wearing any socks” she thought, grimacing.

“You are even lovelier than your mother described. Thank you for taking the time from what must be a very busy schedule to accommodate the wishes of an old man.”

His accent was thick, but his English was impeccable. Maggie noticed those sorts of things. Her dream was to be an English professor at Harvard. She thought about asking him where he was from, but changed her mind. She just wanted to get home and any unnecessary conversation would only prolong an already stifling evening. 

“What has your mother told you about me?” he asked.  There was an intense quality to his voice but his finger circled the top of his water glass as though he had no interest at all in the conversation.

“Hhmm? Oh. Yeah. Nothing, really. She said that you’re from out of town, and were looking for someone to share a table with at dinner.” Maggie mustered all of her skills to sound disinterested.

“You must think me strange to make such a request,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows ever so slightly as he spoke.

When the waiter approached, Damiano ordered the meal for them both.  

"Buona sera. Credo che iniziare con gazpacho,  e con ragu alla bolognese e capelli angelo di pasta." 

The waiter, without blinking an eye responded, "Sì, signore, naturalmente. Si voi o il vostro compagno di essere bello avere il vino a cena?"

No, grazie. Non stasera."

"Sì, molto buono signore," and he quickly retreated to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, my dear.  I am accustomed to ordering for the table.  I hope you don't mind.  I've ordered some soup and pasta."  His voice was stern but was not apologetic.

Maggie looked at her date and replied "No, I don't mind.”

Like I have a choice?" she thought to herself.

The first course arrived and Maggie couldn’t help but be tickled.   The waiter, dressed in a white tuxedo-type uniform, took Maggie’s napkin and whipped it open before he placed it in her lap.   He placed this large silver dome before her and lifted the lid to expose a bowl of soup. The soup looked mouth-watering.   Gazpacho, he called it. She’d never heard of it before.   It didn’t smell like any soup Maggie had ever encountered. It looked like a piece of abstract art. It was a bright green with specks of darker green. In the center of the bowl was a white swirl shaped like a large paisley. She was almost afraid to disturb the fascinating creation in front of her.    She wasn’t quite sure what to do, so she fidgeted with her napkin until her companion picked up his spoon and disturbed his soup.

Maggie dipped her spoon into the bowl and filled it before lifting it to her mouth. She was famished.   As soon as she put the spoon in her mouth, she let out a shriek and spit it back into the bowl. 

“Ewwww…what kind of restaurant is this?!” she spewed. “My soup is COLD! Call the waiter, he needs to take it back!” She picked up her napkin and wiped her tongue off with it. 

The waiter, hearing the commotion, came back by the table chuckling as he approached. “Excuse me ma’am. Is there a problem with the soup?” Her indignation was clear.

“You’re darn straight there’s something wrong! My soup is cold! What kind of restaurant serves cold soup?”

The waiter bent down to her ear, so as not to disturb the other patrons, and with a quiet grace, explained that gazpacho is a very fine soup, served cold; a summer delicacy. 

Maggie looked up at the waiter and her face flushed with heat.   She’d never been so embarrassed, and by the look on her dining partner’s face, neither had he. She looked around the room and the other patrons were smiling as they tried not to stare.   She didn’t know what else to do, so she looked at her date and smiled the most charming smile she could muster.

Reviews

[Arthur Henn]

Well penned, I'm enjoying this ride of a story Mrs Davis. The way you get you characters on paper amaze me. You have an art at this.

Art

[Dezaraye]

Now I'm back on track. :)

I like that you've described everything so well, I felt like I was watching everything unfold before me. I could really see the restaurant and the outfits the pair are wearing. Nice job!