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It was now 7:33. Could I rustle up some food before Veronica got home? What if she was early, what would be my excuse for eating here and not at the golf club? Oh what a tangled web… I switched off the computer, decided I could at least have another sandwich to appease my hunger, and made my way downstairs. A chunk of cheese in a bread roll and a mug of instant coffee later, I sat in the lounge and switched on the radio. No, I screamed in my head, it can’t be. But it was: Gladys Knight and the Pips! ~~~~~~~~ I awoke, startled, in darkness. I was sprawled on the couch, the radio played in the background and I was aware of the door opening. The room flooded with blinding light and I shielded my eyes with an arm.. “Oh, hello Richard. Didn’t know whether you were still up.” Veronica had switched on the lights and now walked over and looked down at my prone figure. I blinked to focus bleary eyes and mumbled, “Hi sweetheart, what time is it?” “Just after 11:30. Obviously you’ve been. Patron and Laura laughed. “Daniel, you are maturing nicely and maybe there is a single grey hair or two on your head but you still have all of those hairs up there and you are still quite young and vigorous. That is one of the reason’s I so enjoy when you share my bed those all too infrequent times you humor me. By no means can you be considered a father figure.” The three close friends went silent as their waiter appeared. An almost unseen hand over Dan’s shoulder delivered their appetizer, a large tray of calamari with small sauce bowls: pesto, garlic butter with coriander leaves, and a traditional red sauce. Hard rolls and garlic paste completed their first course. The country club dining room advertized this Italian home style dinner weeks in advance with reservations limited to one seating. Dan filled the wine glasses from the bottle of dry white that accompanied their Mediterranean meal. Conversation continued. Dan talked about their gallery-museum project and asked Mrs. Patron.
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