Hope
I thought I'd end up a confirmed bachelor until I met Felicity Dunn—as Romeo said about Juliet, she put the torches to shame, lighting up a room by simply walking into it.
She's a mysterious dark-haired beauty who appears in the restaurant at odd times, just when we need her—usually a rainy day, or a hectic Friday night.
She’ll pop in, help out and disappear—God knows what arrangement my manager, Adolph, has made with her.
My sister Carrie and Angeline, the co-owner of Adolph's, both wonder when they'll get to meet this elusive femme fatale. Frankly, so do I.
I intend to ask her out next time she appears, but presently I'm preoccupied with hosting my six-year old niece's birthday party who is right now the most important female in my life.
I host Hope’s party on a Sunday and comes off without a hitch. Adolph closes the restaurant for the afternoon and allows me to play the doting uncle.
There are clowns and face painting, pink and purple balloons, and all the cake and ice cream six year-old girls can eat.
And of course, Adolph is in his glory.
The sparkler-lit Birthday cake is presented with the ambiance of subdued lighting and Adolph’s flair for drama. The little girls are delighted—and Adolph? Well, he just beams, basking in the oohs and ahhs.
Afterwards, it's my turn to share the limelight.
“It was a beautiful party, Paul—thank you.” my sister Carrie hugs me, but really it was all Adolph’s doing.
“We’re going to have to find a woman for you, Paul,’ she chides, “it would be tragic for you to become a settled old bachelor.”
“Oh, you never know,” I tease, “as I've told you, there just might be someone waiting in the wings.”
“Really, Paul?” she enthuses, “I’d be so happy for you.”
I can see myself here next year with Felicity—actually, I can see forever with her, if I let my imagination take control.
But first, I have to ask her out.
The next week is hectic and I don’t see Felicity until the Thursday when she breezes in on a moody, wet afternoon with her country retro look.
She’s wearing a brown Cahoots felt hat with floppy brim, belted trousers and a tucked-in button up.
My heart melts when I see her.
I make a bee-line to greet her, but am intercepted by a flustered Adolph, “Sorry, Paul, but could I impose on you to fetch me a bottle of Louis Roederer from the wine cellar—you know, the Cristal Brut 2005?”
“Sure,” I tell him. Felicity flashes me a lovely hello smile.
I head back to the stairs, navigating between boxes of fresh produce that have just arrived.
I hate the gloomy cellars, but Adolph has amassed a formidable collection of fine wines that’s added to our reputation. I berate myself for taking him for granted.
I start down the stairs, but halfway down my foot slides on what feels like a wet lettuce leaf and though I grab frantically for the railing I miss and pitch forward.
I literally see my life pass before my eyes.
Suddenly, a hand reaches out of the darkness and pushes my shoulder. I fall sideways twisting my ankle, but avoid dashing my head on the concrete floor.
Next thing I know, Adolph and several concerned waiters are hovering over me.
And strangely, I'm more upset this accident is going to sideline me and interrupt my scheme to ask out Felicity.
This is not the outcome I had planned.