I just laughed and settled into a seat at an empty table. I ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio and settled back to watch the parade of life.My skirt rose above my knee and slid up my thigh, I slipped my heel off my foot and let it dangle thoughtlessly. Couples danced, stayed together, flowed apart, traded partners. Others, like myself were sitting quietly, waiting, throwing glances, some of which connected and there were waves of movement throughout the evening. I danced and flirted, but none of my partners particularly appealed to me just then, nor I to anyone especially.Finishing my second glass of wine, I saw a hand on the table, a woman’s left hand, there was the dull flash of gold on the ring finger.“May I sit here?” a solid voice asked.It is not that unusual for married women to come here, though most manage to remove their rings. The honest ones will tell you, but the ones who keep their rings on are making a statement. “You may be fun, but I am going home to someone.”I followed. Bobby changed his afternoon schedule so he hit her house at break time.Bobby packed his lunch and carried it with him on the Post Office Jeep. Every day he ate in the cul-de-sac where Beverley lived.One day when he delivered a package, Beverly asked, "Is that you I see eating lunch at the end of the street?"Bobby said, "I've been eating here since I started the route. I watched them remodel your house." I eat at home on Monday and Wednesdays. Why don't you join me?" Beverly asked.Bobby said, "I don't want to do anything that'd appear improper?"Beverly asked, "Would your wife mind?" No wife, no girlfriend," he answered."Are you a gentleman?" she asked half teasingly."Yes ma'am." We can eat out on the patio. That should be all right," Beverly said.So twice a week they had lunch on the patio and talked. By the third week, Bobby was totally and hopelessly in love with her. He hadn't dated much and he quit trying altogether, after he met Beverly. None of the women he knew could hold a.
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