She was a friend of a friend. We met at a gallery showing. Our conversation was pleasant. I had not been out in quite some time; nor in the presence of a lady so charming in a longer time. I insisted we have dinner. It was late, but she acquiesced. I smiled and dialed a favored haunt. With a bit of a french accent, the manager on the phone agreed to hold a table for two. She looked at me and asked, “Is it just that easy? At this hour?” I answered, “Yes. Shall we?” I extended my arm. She laid her hand gently on my forearm. In moments we were in a car heading for a late dinner.
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