by Frank Martinet
The dinner was lovely. It was an expensive rooftop restaurant and in the summer weather the breeze was cool and refreshing after weeks of temperatures in the nineties. Emily picked at her shrimp salad and studied the man across from her as though she had never seen him before.
He is handsome, she thought. Not great looking, but good. Just little flaws like slightly crooked teeth and a nose that was too prominent, but that stuff just made him more human. He was well on the wrong side of thirty and his brown hair was already starting to thin. He wasn't fat, but he certainly didn't have an athlete's body. But then he didn't need that as a stockbroker. He looked like a banker in his fine suit. Or maybe an undertaker.
Geoff smiled and made a mild joke about the stuffed mushrooms being too full to eat that wasn't very funny, but she grinned and laughed anyway.
Six months, Emily thought. I've been dating this man for six months. Shouldn't I feel something by now?
By every measure she could think of, he was a catch. He wasn't a billionaire, but he was comfortably well off. Her life would be secure with him. He was a kind man, raising his two daughters alone after the tragic death of his wife six years ago. That alone earned him sympathy points.
He was decent enough in bed. Their passion was more like a candle than a bonfire, but that seemed to be more Emily's fault than his. He found her attractive - most men did - and his body usually proved he wasn't lying. He never seemed to notice that Emily's orgasms weren't very convincing.
There was something oddly flat about their relationship. Emily couldn't put her finger on it. It bothered her. Was she settling? She was thirty now. It was definitely time to settle. Yet did she really want to spend the rest of her life with this man? Was she forcing it because she was desperate? Or was this what love was really like? She imagined it would be grander, more of a head-over-heels thing. But maybe that was just in books and movies. Maybe this was what love was like for real people.
The waiter brought out their main course of poached salmon with butter and herbs and Emily had to admit, it was divine. She ate lightly, however, too troubled by her personal life to have much appetite. She smiled at Geoff as he prated on about something called derivatives. Apparently they were very exciting.
Using her knife and fork she carefully sliced a roasted red potato into quarters and fed her mouth a chunk. It was delicious, warm and creamy with just the right amount of seasoning to raise it well above plain potato.
That's what I'm missing, Emily thought. Seasoning. Geoff's so nice and polite and good but he has no spice. There's nothing exciting about him. He's exactly the kind of conservative, stable man my parents would have picked for me out of a catalog.
After dessert of hip-widening cherry cheesecake that Emily sturdily resisted after a token taste, Geoff made some gesture and the obedient waiter showed up with a bottle of champagne. Emily's eyes opened because she remembered noticing the vintage on the wine list and its $999 price tag.
"Geoff, this is too extravagant. You know I hardly drink-"
"Just a glass, my dear. A toast. To us."
It seemed like a waste, considering her contemplative mood, but how could she refuse? She sipped and it was very good. She downed the glass recklessly and had a second. Her mood lightened as the alcohol hit her system and her smile was brighter.
Geoff stood and held out his hand. The music from the violinists in the corner picked up, and soon the two were dancing. It was a slow dance, simple and befitting Geoff's quiet style and the music. Emily found it charming.
There were only a half dozen tables on the terrace, all well separated with distance and standing plants, but Emily noticed several other couples following Geoff's lead and dancing. She clung tightly too him. He smelled good. She felt right in his arms. She was five-seven in her heels, but he was a good two inches taller, and she looked up at him and thought there was nothing wrong with him.
Then she wondered why she kept having to tell herself that.
After a few rounds, Geoff spun her back to her seat. They were both feeling a certain amount of energy after the rhythmic movements, Emily's chest heaving a little as she breathed deeply. She reached for the tall champagne glass and froze, her heart skipping.
At the bottom of the glass was a small circular loop of metal. A large crystal-like rock clung to one edge. Emily's mouth fell open. Before she could say anything, Geoff was on one knee in front of her. She stared at him, astonished.
"Tonight's our six-month anniversary," he said quietly. "I can't think of a better time for me to ask what I've been thinking about since the day I met you. Emily Yeates, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
"Oh my God!" Emily whispered, awe in her voice. She didn't know what to do. This was her deepest fear. She'd sensed this was coming but thought she had more time. Just a few weeks ago she'd intimated her opinion that couples should date at least a year before marriage. Geoff obviously hadn't listened. Of course, he had been married before, to his college sweetheart. At his age and with his experience, he didn't want to wait a year.
As if reading her thoughts, Geoff quickly added, "I'm not saying we have to get married next week, Emily. We can wait for six months or even longer if you prefer. I'll let you decide. But I'd just like us to both know that we're on the same path, that's all."
"Do... do I have to answer right now? I... I wasn't expecting this."
If Geoff was troubled by her hesitation he didn't show it. "Of course you can think about it. I know I'm rushing things. I don't want to put pressure on you. But I just know I don't want to live without you and I want us to get married."
"Thank you, Geoff. I am so honored. But... I need time. A day or two to absorb this?"
Geoff stood up quickly, nodding. His face was a rock. "Sure. Not a problem."
It was chilly in the limo ride home and it had nothing to do with the temperature. On the surface, Geoff was smiling and polite, but he was quiet and Emily could tell he was hurt by her hesitation. She couldn't blame him. If they were really in love, she shouldn't have had to think about it for even a second, right?
Emily didn't protest when he told the driver to head to his place. When they'd departed, he had told the girls they wouldn't be home until midnight. It was barely ten. But neither felt like doing anything else now. Whatever other plans Geoff had in mind were forgotten. They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Twice Emily attempted to start a conversation, but Geoff's responses were so curt that talk stalled and she gave up.
With the limo stopped for a while, Geoff finally hit the button to bring down the darkened glass divider. "What's going on? Why are we stopped?"
"There's some kind of disturbance up ahead, sir. There are fire trucks and police. Traffic is backed up."
Emily frowned, staring up ahead. Geoff's building was just a few blocks ahead and at the base were clustered two long red fire trucks.
"Geoff? Isn't that your building?"
"My God! The girls!"
In an instant he had his phone out and was dialing, but Emily was even more action-oriented. She threw open the door, pulled Geoff out by his sleeve, and the two began hurrying along the sidewalk.
"It just goes to voicemail," he growled, frustrated. "I don't understand. Tori wouldn't be caught dead without her phone."
"Maybe she's asleep."
Geoff rolled his eyes. "She's sixteen and it's a Saturday night."
"Good point. I don't know. Damn, I wish I wasn't wearing these heels."
They could see things a little clearer as they got closer. Geoff was scanning the high-rise but didn't see anything alarming, like smoking coming out of a window. The firemen gathered at the base weren't moving with any particular urgency either. Whatever was going on seemed to have ended and the crew was just wrapping up.
Reaching the entrance, they found the doorway barred by a uniformed officer. "We live here," said Geoff. "Fourteenth floor. Apartment 1404."
The man, who had been shaking his head, suddenly stopped. Immediately he waved to the fire chief. "Sir, I think the parents are here!"
The man came running over. "Are you Geoff Buckland?"
"I am."
"Come with me, sir."
"What's happened? Are my daughters okay?"
"They're fine, sir. A small fire. It turned out to not be that significant, but we didn't know that when we got the call. It could have been much worse."
Off of the lobby was the manager's office. Sitting looking glum were two young girls. They were polar opposites, Tori being a slim blond with short hair and bright blue eyes, while sixteen-year-old Talia had straight black hair that nearly reached her waist. Both had similar faces, however, inheriting their late mother's petite nose and elegant elfin features. They would be beautiful; for now they were darling. Emily and Geoff rushed to them, each embracing one and then exchanging.
"My God! I'm so glad you're okay," breathed Geoff. "For a moment there I was terrified!"
"We're fine, Dad," said Tori. She did not look happy as she said this. She stared at her toes in shame.
"What on earth happened?"
The cheeks of both girls flamed and neither looked up.
"Someone was playing with a blowtorch," said a fireman. The apartment manager frowned. Geoff gasped and stared at his daughters.
"What!"
The girls both talked at once. "We weren't playing." "It was for a school project." "And it's just that tiny little blowtorch we keep in the kitchen for cooking." "We were just burning the ends of our poster." "You know, for decorative effect."
"Hold on," growled Geoff, raising his hands. "One at a time. Now tell me, how did you end up starting a fire? And what burned?"
The girls looked at each other. It was Tori who spoke.
"We were in the living room. It's a warm night so we had the balcony windows open. The wind blew the curtain-"
"That thin white whispy one," interjected Talia.
"Yeah, and suddenly it was on fire! It just burned up like a cotton ball. Whoosh! All the way to the ceiling."
"It was terrifying."
Geoff looked concerned. "What happened next?"
Tori hesitated. "Uh, we, uh, we tried to put it out. I threw our drinks on it, but, uh, it didn't help."
"Yeah, it made it worse!" said Talia. "It caught the main curtain on fire. We thought the whole place was going to burn down."
"Made it worse? What on earth were you drinking?"
Tori flushed and looked away.
"I can answer that," said the fireman. "The girls apparently got into your liquor cabinet."
"What?" Geoff roared. The girls winced and shrank on their chairs, looking miserable and ashamed.
Making an effort to control his temper, Geoff faced the head fireman. "How much damage is there?"
"It's not that bad, sir. With the balcony open a lot of smoke went outside and a neighbor spotted it and called it in. We were here within five minutes after it started. We put it out with handheld extinguishers. It ruined some of your furnishings and carpet and you'll have smoke damage and need to have a new paint job, but there's no structural damage. Most importantly, no one was hurt."
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