JUNE 2019
STANDING RESERVATIONS
REBECCA JACKSON
STANDING RESERVATIONS
REBECCA JACKSON
Paul looked up as Melanie entered the restaurant. He stood and pulled out her chair, resting one hand against the small of her back. He leaned in, placing a lingering kiss on her proffered check. “You look stunning,” he murmured, pleased when she blushed and dropped her eyes to the linen tablecloth.
“This place is so expensive,” she said softly. The restaurant was the most exclusive in town. It boasted tables set in recessed alcoves instead of a single large dining space. Thick carpet runners covered dark polished hardwood floors, muffling the sounds of the wait staffs’ footsteps. A formally attired pianist played smooth classical tunes from a stage that also served to camouflage the swinging kitchen doors.
He smiled and said, “Melanie, after what we’ve just been through, I’ve realized how unimportant material possessions are. To think, we were fighting over the house, the cars, the bills. We lost sight of us. No more scrimping and saving. Tomorrow’s not guaranteed for anyone. More living in the moment.” He raised his wine glass, satisfied to see Melanie’s blue eyes sparkling once again in the soft candlelight.
They drank deeply, gazes locked. Melanie reached across the table and clasped Paul’s hand in both of hers. “I agree. I’ve never felt so alive! Although I was scared to death at first.”
Paul sat back, his deep laughter turning heads of adjoining diners. “I know, I was, too!” He rubbed her palm with his thumb. “We make quite a team.”
She smiled coyly, eyebrows raised. “I guess we can tear up those divorce papers.”
His answering grin was teasing. “There’s no need. Our two attorneys aren’t in any shape to file them.”
She giggled, throwing her head back, and now their neighboring diners were beaming along with the exuberant, handsome couple.
The joyful conversation continued through the appetizers and salads, punctuated by several bouts of laughter. Paul’s expression turned serious as he reached once again for Melanie’s hands. He was gratified when she gave them to him with no hesitation.
“Honestly, Mel, it couldn’t have gone any better if we’d planned it. Gleason ruled an accident, and Harper hasn’t even been found yet. But, we must be careful if we do-”
“When!” Melanie interrupted, squeezing Paul’s fingers. He grinned and returned the pressure.
“When,” he amended. They waited, gazes locked, as the waiter cleared the table in preparation for their entrees. “When we do it again, we need to have a strategy.
The stakes are just too high to play it by ear.”
Melanie nodded. “I understand. Your need to plan everything used to drive me crazy, but for this, I understand. I feel like we’ve grown so much. It’s true what they say: a couple needs to have a hobby.”
Paul straightened the cuffs of his dress shirt, indicating to Melanie that he was ready to discuss details. “I have a few ideas about our next targets, and methods I’d like to try.” He took out the monogrammed Cross pen she’d given him as an anniversary gift. She handed him a small notebook from her purse, and he flipped it open to a fresh page. He smiled into her eyes. “This will be our celebratory restaurant.”
She returned his smile with a dazzling one of her own. “We’ll need standing reservations.”
“This place is so expensive,” she said softly. The restaurant was the most exclusive in town. It boasted tables set in recessed alcoves instead of a single large dining space. Thick carpet runners covered dark polished hardwood floors, muffling the sounds of the wait staffs’ footsteps. A formally attired pianist played smooth classical tunes from a stage that also served to camouflage the swinging kitchen doors.
He smiled and said, “Melanie, after what we’ve just been through, I’ve realized how unimportant material possessions are. To think, we were fighting over the house, the cars, the bills. We lost sight of us. No more scrimping and saving. Tomorrow’s not guaranteed for anyone. More living in the moment.” He raised his wine glass, satisfied to see Melanie’s blue eyes sparkling once again in the soft candlelight.
They drank deeply, gazes locked. Melanie reached across the table and clasped Paul’s hand in both of hers. “I agree. I’ve never felt so alive! Although I was scared to death at first.”
Paul sat back, his deep laughter turning heads of adjoining diners. “I know, I was, too!” He rubbed her palm with his thumb. “We make quite a team.”
She smiled coyly, eyebrows raised. “I guess we can tear up those divorce papers.”
His answering grin was teasing. “There’s no need. Our two attorneys aren’t in any shape to file them.”
She giggled, throwing her head back, and now their neighboring diners were beaming along with the exuberant, handsome couple.
The joyful conversation continued through the appetizers and salads, punctuated by several bouts of laughter. Paul’s expression turned serious as he reached once again for Melanie’s hands. He was gratified when she gave them to him with no hesitation.
“Honestly, Mel, it couldn’t have gone any better if we’d planned it. Gleason ruled an accident, and Harper hasn’t even been found yet. But, we must be careful if we do-”
“When!” Melanie interrupted, squeezing Paul’s fingers. He grinned and returned the pressure.
“When,” he amended. They waited, gazes locked, as the waiter cleared the table in preparation for their entrees. “When we do it again, we need to have a strategy.
The stakes are just too high to play it by ear.”
Melanie nodded. “I understand. Your need to plan everything used to drive me crazy, but for this, I understand. I feel like we’ve grown so much. It’s true what they say: a couple needs to have a hobby.”
Paul straightened the cuffs of his dress shirt, indicating to Melanie that he was ready to discuss details. “I have a few ideas about our next targets, and methods I’d like to try.” He took out the monogrammed Cross pen she’d given him as an anniversary gift. She handed him a small notebook from her purse, and he flipped it open to a fresh page. He smiled into her eyes. “This will be our celebratory restaurant.”
She returned his smile with a dazzling one of her own. “We’ll need standing reservations.”
Rebecca Jackson is a debut author from Prattville, Alabama.
