lot, intent on getting in her car and ending the date as soon as possible.
“We’re having coffee and dessert in the Waterview dining room.” Frank reminded her. He caught up to her and put a hand on her arm. “It’s this way.”
Aimee stopped. Part of her preferred to stomp off to nurse her hurt feelings, but was she being childish? Frank did sound like he wanted to continue the date. Maybe she was reading too much into a single moment.
“They’re serving mud pie,” Frank added.
“Mud pie?”
Professional curiosity persuaded her to let Frank lead her up the stairs to a glass-walled dining room overlooking the lake. Each of the dozen tables was set for two, with coffee cups, a candle in a crystal holder, and a single rose. Frank chose a vacant table near the window and held Aimee’s chair for her. Music played softly in the background, and the couples already seated were watching the water or talking quietly.
One waiter poured their coffee, while another delivered their desserts. Aimee stuck her fork into the pie. The crumb crust was made of chocolate wafers, and the filling appeared to be a soft fudge. She dipped the bite in the fresh cream piped into an elegant swirl beside the pie slice and closed her eyes to savor the taste. She’d half-expected a coffee flavor, but nothing cut the sweetness of the rich, buttery chocolate and the lighter note of the whipped cream.
When she opened her eyes, Frank was watching her.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” she asked.
“That’s okay. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He took a forkful of his own pie. “Mmm. Delicious, but rich. I can see why the slices are so small.”
“I could make this,” Aimee said, mostly to herself. “Or a better one.”
Frank grinned at her. “A better one? That I’d like to taste! Consider yourself challenged.”
Aimee blinked. She hadn’t meant to brag about her cooking ability. When she enjoyed a dish, she always thought about how she’d make it and whether she could improve upon it. She started to explain to Frank, but then she caught his playful expression and smiled back.
“Challenge accepted,” she said. “I’ll bring it to our next date.”
She tasted another bite. The pie had two layers, any difference in color not noticeable in the dim light. The bottom layer was denser, and the top layer was whipped, more of a mousse. Aimee took separate bites of the crust and each layer and began mentally writing out the recipe. Butter, eggs. Unsweetened chocolate. Cream. She might add a bit more vanilla, maybe reduce the sugar slightly…
Frank finished his own pie and waited until she pushed her plate away. “What’s the expression?” he asked. “In the zone? You were in the food zone.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Aimee suddenly realized they were the only ones talking. Out loud, anyway. The other couples were snuggled together, admiring the view, or whispering over their coffee. She turned her chair slightly so she could watch the water. The waiter refilled Frank’s coffee, but Aimee shook her head. She didn’t need caffeine.
Her legs were still tired, but the good food and quiet atmosphere were relaxing. They sat without talking as Frank sipped his coffee. The couples began leaving, one by one, and finally Aimee stirred.
“We’d better go, or I’ll be too sleepy to drive.”
Frank took her arm to help her along the dimly lit path to the parking lot. Aimee half-expected Edwina to be waiting for them, but the parking lot was almost empty.
“Do you need a ride?” she asked.
He glanced at his watch. “Back to A Time for Love, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks. I’ll text Edwina and let her know.”
They listened to soft music as they wove through the city. When they reached A Time for Love, Aimee parked slightly beyond the security lights that illuminated the front of the building. She wasn’t trying to start anything, just giving
“We’re having coffee and dessert in the Waterview dining room.” Frank reminded her. He caught up to her and put a hand on her arm. “It’s this way.”
Aimee stopped. Part of her preferred to stomp off to nurse her hurt feelings, but was she being childish? Frank did sound like he wanted to continue the date. Maybe she was reading too much into a single moment.
“They’re serving mud pie,” Frank added.
“Mud pie?”
Professional curiosity persuaded her to let Frank lead her up the stairs to a glass-walled dining room overlooking the lake. Each of the dozen tables was set for two, with coffee cups, a candle in a crystal holder, and a single rose. Frank chose a vacant table near the window and held Aimee’s chair for her. Music played softly in the background, and the couples already seated were watching the water or talking quietly.
One waiter poured their coffee, while another delivered their desserts. Aimee stuck her fork into the pie. The crumb crust was made of chocolate wafers, and the filling appeared to be a soft fudge. She dipped the bite in the fresh cream piped into an elegant swirl beside the pie slice and closed her eyes to savor the taste. She’d half-expected a coffee flavor, but nothing cut the sweetness of the rich, buttery chocolate and the lighter note of the whipped cream.
When she opened her eyes, Frank was watching her.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” she asked.
“That’s okay. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He took a forkful of his own pie. “Mmm. Delicious, but rich. I can see why the slices are so small.”
“I could make this,” Aimee said, mostly to herself. “Or a better one.”
Frank grinned at her. “A better one? That I’d like to taste! Consider yourself challenged.”
Aimee blinked. She hadn’t meant to brag about her cooking ability. When she enjoyed a dish, she always thought about how she’d make it and whether she could improve upon it. She started to explain to Frank, but then she caught his playful expression and smiled back.
“Challenge accepted,” she said. “I’ll bring it to our next date.”
She tasted another bite. The pie had two layers, any difference in color not noticeable in the dim light. The bottom layer was denser, and the top layer was whipped, more of a mousse. Aimee took separate bites of the crust and each layer and began mentally writing out the recipe. Butter, eggs. Unsweetened chocolate. Cream. She might add a bit more vanilla, maybe reduce the sugar slightly…
Frank finished his own pie and waited until she pushed her plate away. “What’s the expression?” he asked. “In the zone? You were in the food zone.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Aimee suddenly realized they were the only ones talking. Out loud, anyway. The other couples were snuggled together, admiring the view, or whispering over their coffee. She turned her chair slightly so she could watch the water. The waiter refilled Frank’s coffee, but Aimee shook her head. She didn’t need caffeine.
Her legs were still tired, but the good food and quiet atmosphere were relaxing. They sat without talking as Frank sipped his coffee. The couples began leaving, one by one, and finally Aimee stirred.
“We’d better go, or I’ll be too sleepy to drive.”
Frank took her arm to help her along the dimly lit path to the parking lot. Aimee half-expected Edwina to be waiting for them, but the parking lot was almost empty.
“Do you need a ride?” she asked.
He glanced at his watch. “Back to A Time for Love, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks. I’ll text Edwina and let her know.”
They listened to soft music as they wove through the city. When they reached A Time for Love, Aimee parked slightly beyond the security lights that illuminated the front of the building. She wasn’t trying to start anything, just giving
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