Glimmers (5 page)

Anxiously, I grab the basket and leap for the door. After flinging it open, I look down and straighten my skirt. Casually, I glance up, but what I see isn’t good. It’s not William; it’s Shep coming home for lunch. The idea of introducing my father to my date is mortifying!

“Dad, what cha doin’?” I ask.

“What was that?” he subtly reminds me of my grammatical mistake, as he often does.

“Hey Daddy, what are you doing?” I correct.

“I thought it’d be nice to have lunch with my little girl,” he says, as he unloads some objects from the back of his truck. After getting a glimpse of me, he freezes mid-stream. “Now, there’s a pretty woman. What’s the occasion?”

I reach into the depths of my mind to come up with a good reason for my appearance. I’ve come up with nothing. Not one single good reason. I guess it’s best to tell him the truth, “I‘m going to lunch with a new friend.”

“Would this friend be of the male persuasion?” My father’s a clever one, I’ll give him that.

“Yes, he would. It’s nothing serious, though. In fact, you could just leave now and not even have to meet him.”

“And pass up the opportunity to embarrass my daughter? Nah, I’ll stay put right here. I’d like to meet any boy who can manage a date with Delilah. No offense, but rumor around town is it’s nearly impossible to get a date with Delilah Jones.”

“Funny, Dad,” I say and even though I try to get rid of him, deep down, I know that will never happen. Why is he beaming like that? Great, he’s gonna humiliate me. I’m sure he’s wondering if he ought to clean his shotgun in front of William, just for effect. “Dad, please don’t embarrass me.”

“Don’t you worry; I’ll make myself scarce once I’ve met the boy.”

The sound of crushed gravel reaches us. In unison, we look down the lane at the black car heading in our direction.

Shep leans toward me and asks, “Nice ride. Where’d you meet this fella?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I whisper, as Shep is still gazing admiringly at the fancy car.

William exits and confidently approaches my dad. He extends his hand towards

Shep, and says, “Hello sir, I’m William Berringer.”

“I’m Sheppard Jones, Delilah’s dad, it sure is nice to meet you,” Shep says, shaking William’s hand. My dad peers down at me with a look of mischief on his face. I pray he won’t choose this moment to tease me.

“Delilah and I have planned a date for today, with your consent, of course,” William says sweetly, and now, I can’t shake this silly grin off my face.

“Why certainly! You two have fun!” Shep exclaims, sounding a little too enthusiastic for my taste.

“All right Dad, I’ll see you later. Remember, I have the day off. So I don’t know when I’ll be home. Don’t worry about me, okay?” I kiss him on the cheek and whisper, “Thanks.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” William says to my dad.

“Have a great time,” Shep adds.

“Thanks, Dad!” I say, and as William holds the car door for me, I slide onto the seat.

My palms are sweaty, and my feet shift around each other. I look down at the leather interior and run my hand over its surface. It’s soft…this is calming. After studying the seat a little further it dawns on me, I’ve never been in a car this luxurious before.

William takes his place in the driver’s side and gazes briefly in my direction. “So, Ms. Delilah, what do you have planned for us today?”

My stomach is in my throat, but I think I can manage to sound composed. “That’ll have to be a surprise. I’ll let you know which way to go.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided to go out with me,” he says with a sweet smile, and I’m not about to admit it out loud, but I’m glad too.

“At the end of the drive, take a right,” I say and stare at my long driveway.

After heading down the double lane road, I instruct him to turn left past my favorite cattle and horse farm. We drive through a covered bridge and then up along the base of a mountain. We swerve along a few switchbacks, and I have him pull over near a large maple tree. Like many trees in this area, it is centuries old and has an ancient spirit. Birds play in its branches and leaves dance with the breeze. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, filling my lungs with sweet aroma from wild flowers and fresh green grass. When I reopen my eyes, I see dragonflies zip through the air, and . . . William Berringer is staring at me. Why isn’t he looking at the valley, rolling hills, and sheep?

“I’ll say one thing is true for West Virginia, it’s overflowing with beauty,” he says.

“Ah-hem, right,” I say, busily setting up the perfect picnic—anything to avoid William’s intense stare.

After a few minutes, I realize there’s nothing more I can do. The food, desert, blue and white dishes, flower centerpiece, and fish blanket look perfect. I peer up to watch William’s reaction.

“Lunch is ready. I hope you like it,” I say, softly clapping my hands together once.

William kneels down on the blanket and gawks. “Are you kidding? Everything looks great. No offense, but I didn’t expect you to make more than PB&J sandwiches. You really outdid yourself.”

“It’s nothing, really. I just whipped all of this up this morning.”

“You must have woken up pretty early.”

“A little,” I say with a smile and scoop up some pasta with olives and feta cheese, placing it on his plate. I add a spring-mix salad along with my homemade salad dressing: dill, olive oil, garlic . . . . I leave the French bread, cheese, ham, and grapes on a wooden platter. I figure we can just nibble from it.

“This looks delicious.” He takes a bite of pasta and grins. “Where did you find this fish blanket?”

“It’s great, isn’t it?” I begin before realizing he is looking at it questioningly. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s interesting.”

“I figured you’d appreciate the blue fish, since you’re a guy and all guys like to fish, right?”

“I guess,” he says and shrugs his shoulders.

“You don’t like to fish?”

“I’m not sure; I’ve never been,” he says casually. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You mean to tell me, your father never took you out fishing?” I say with my eyes still large.

“We never got around to it. What’s the big deal?”

“I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna take you fishing, and you can see for yourself.”

“It sounds like we’ve just planned another date,” he says with a grin. “All right, show me the magical and mysterious world of fishing.”

“You may tease now, but you’ll see how rewarding it is.”

“I’m sure I will,” he says before tasting the salad. I wait nervously for his reaction. He grins and quickly takes another bite.

“Would you like some lemonade?” I ask overeagerly and reach for his glass.

“Let me guess, you squeezed the lemons yourself.”

“But of course!”

“I like how you made ice-cubes around lemon slices.”

I pass him a glass, and for the briefest moment, our fingers touch. Did I just feel a ripple of electricity? I look away, trying not to blush.

Thank goodness, he says something right away, “This tastes amazing. You know, I’m surprised you haven’t opened your own restaurant.”

“I hope to, one day, but you have to start somewhere, right? My boss told me, after a few weeks of proving myself I’ll be able to help more in the kitchen!” I say excitedly and pop a grape into my mouth.

“Do you have to go to school to become a chef?”

“This is a serious profession. I’m gonna go to culinary school and then do some training with a great chef. And one day, I’ll open my own restaurant,” I say enthusiastically.

“Where would you like to open your first restaurant?”

“Well, I suppose somewhere more tropical, maybe near a beach in Florida. And my second restaurant will be right here,” I say with a smile.

“You want to return and open one here? I thought you were ready to run off to explore distant places. Why do you want to come back?”

“I want to make a name for myself in a bigger city, and I will travel to foreign lands. And maybe after I open up my first restaurant, I’ll come back. The people I love are here, and they deserve an opportunity to have great food just like everyone else. You know…just because you live in a small town doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate exotic food.”

I wait for William’s reaction. What does he think about what I’ve just said? Will he laugh at my crazy ideas? Maybe he’ll understand. But what if he doesn’t? I can’t hang around with someone who doesn’t support my dreams.

William continues shoveling in mouthfuls of pasta, as I wait and wait.

Finally, he clears his throat and says, “I’m sure you will accomplish all of that. But before you open your restaurant, I think you should travel the world. Live off the land. See how other people live. Try strange and exotic cuisine.”

“Is that your dream, William Berringer?”

“I must admit, I would like to travel for a while. But once I have that out of my system, I’d like to design buildings.”

“You want to be an architect?”

“Yes, I do. My father still believes I’ll follow in his footsteps by becoming a politician. But that’s not for me.”

“Well, the way I see it, you have to follow
your
own path and only
your
heart can show you the way. In fact, I’m sure your parents will be proud of you, just so as long as you work hard and find your own kind of success.”

William shifts his gaze away from the valley and focuses on me. “And who cares if I destroy the dreams of both my parents in the process,” he says, and I’m not sure whether or not he’s serious.

“William, I think becoming an architect is a great idea. You’ll create buildings people will live, work, shop, and eat in. The possibilities are endless! I realize I don’t know you very well, but I believe you’ll be happy with whatever you choose to do, as long as you follow your heart.”

A smile stretches his gorgeous lips. “I believe I will too,” he agrees. “So, what do you say, do you want to visit foreign lands with me?”

Again, I’m not sure whether or not he’s serious. So I scramble for something with which to busy my trembling hands. I wish my heart wouldn’t beat so fast, and my head wouldn’t feel so light. I peer over at William. He doesn’t seem fazed at all about what he just said to me. He’s pulling apart his bread and stuffing his face with it.

All right, he must have been kidding. I won’t think about his invitation again, at least for the rest of the evening . . . or maybe for the next few seconds. I really don’t know how to respond. Okay, I have an idea. I reach inside my picnic basket. From it, I retrieve my absolute favorite dessert and remember
this
is my passion.

“I’ve almost forgotten the best part of the meal! Now close your eyes!” I declare. “I’ve been workin’ on this new recipe. I plan on entering it in the State Fair at summer’s end. I’ll feed you a bite, and then you’ll have to honestly tell me what you think.”

I slice through the moist chocolate cake, sliding a knife down through alternating layers of peanut-butter and fudge. After the piece gently falls onto my pretty blue plate, I am ready to share a spoonful of decadence with William.

“All right, open your mouth,” I say, while carefully slipping a little taste of heaven into his mouth.

His closes his eyes. I’m having trouble reading whether or not he likes it. He takes his time chewing; torturing me in the process. What does he think? Does he just like it or love it?

Finally, he opens his eyes and smiles. “This has to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. What do you call it?”

“Whew, I’m so relieved. I was scared to death of what your reaction might be. Actually, I’m having trouble with the name. Do you have any ideas? It has to be something catchy if I’m to win a prize.”

“I’m guessing it has peanut butter, chocolate fudge, and there’s something crunchy, sort of cakey, too. It tastes unbelievable. I’m sure you could call it Crunchy-Munchy and win. Maybe if I had some more, I would be better able to help you with a name.”

I serve him a plate of dessert and enjoy one for myself. It really is good. In fact, I could eat it all day long.

~ * * * ~

Time is flying by way too fast. I have just shared my vision of my future restaurant with William, telling him that naming it is easy. I will call it
Desirez’
, which means desire, as in ‘what do you desire’ in French. I heard the word somewhere and it has stayed with me. I think it shows the passion I have for food.

Desirez’
will serve French cuisine with an American flair, and as I explain this to William, he understands, or at least he acts like he does. I mean, like, he is really concentrating on the ground, nodding his head. When he finally does say something, I am impressed how he brings
Desirez’
to life, describing the incredibly innovative architectural touches he would add.

~ * * * ~

Our afternoon date is almost over. Twilight is here and the valley below sparkles with pin points of light.