Someday Home by Lauraine Snelling Read Free Book Online Page A

“Henri?”
    “Ah yes, I’ve brought clients here before.”
    “Oh, your expense account must have expanded somewhat.”
    He ignored her comment and studied the menu. “Would you like me to order for both of us? I have a special idea in mind.”
    “If you’d like.” Another strange behavior. This was turning into a night of strange behaviors. Why did she feel like he was showing off?
    He beckoned the waiter over, the two conferred, and the waiter left with a smile and nod to her. “Now,” said her husband. “Why don’t we go dance while they prepare our supper? Oh, and I ordered a bottle of extra-nice wine since we are celebrating.”
    “Thank you.” She nodded. “I didn’t reserve a wine, but I know you don’t care for champagne.”
    They both put their napkins on the table, and he took her hand to lead her to the spotlighted dance floor. No recordings in the Mansfield or even a piano player. A six-piece ensemble played a waltz, and she let herself relax in the strength of Jack’s arms. For a moment she could forget about the strange behaviors. They’d always danced well together and tonight was no exception. As they swung and blended with the music, she heaved a deep breath and let herself rest her cheek against his shoulder. Surely this would lead to a night of making love, something they’d not had a lot of lately.
    The waiter brought the bottle of wine; poured some in a glass; and Jack swirled the goblet, inhaled the perfume, and nodded to the man to pour. They used to make a joke out of things like this because their only identification was with red house wine or white.
    Somehow she got the idea if she brought that up to laugh over, he’d not think it funny. He’d reacted that way lately to a lot of their family stories, as if they were no longer humorous and he would rather forget their earlier life.
    At least there would be lots of reminiscing when the whole family, including their church family, met to celebrate.
    He lifted his glass to touch hers. “To our new lives.” After the elegant clink, they each sipped and savored. Or at least he seemed to. Actually, the wine was red and dry, and to her it tasted like medicine. The yucky kind that you chugged fast and followed with several glugs of water. Immediately. She ordered herself to not be silly and took another very small sip, glancing at the bottle. There was no way he was going to pour any more of that into her glass.
    She nibbled on the assortment of breadsticks, crackers, and crunchy breads in the basket on the table. As bad as the wine was, these were delicious. Their salads arrived; the waiter ground the obligatory pepper on the Caesar salad and she savored the crispy crunch with a tangy dressing. The chef certainly knew how to prepare a good salad.
    “More?” Jack held up the wine bottle. His glass was empty.
    “Ah, no thank you. Not yet.” Another sip to go with a smile and an immediate bite of bread.
    Here came Henri with an assistant and some kitchen equipment. They set up next to her table and with broad gestures prepared the entrée. A column of flame flared eighteen inches into the air as the other restaurant patrons were watching and pretended they weren’t. This, she knew, was flambeau, but it had never been done for her before. With a flourish, the chefs folded up their equipment and left.
    The food certainly lived up to its reputation. Small rosettes of the tenderest steak in a delicious wine sauce. “Oh, this is so good,” she murmured after the first bite. “Thank you.”
    “Glad you like it. They are famous for their Steak Diane. One of my favorites here.”
    Huh? Another intriguing comment to file away for later pondering. She asked, “Have you heard from Charles lately?”
    Jack shook his head and downed another swallow of wine. His glass was nearly empty again.
    “What about Gwynn?”
    Again he shook his head and finished off his glass.
    “Ah, won’t you be over the alcohol limit, dear?”
    He did a brushing