Not a Drop spilt

“I will pick you up at eleven, enjoy yourself darling!” Maria’s mother spoke lightly as she pulled her daughter firmly from the car.

“I don’t want to have dinner with your friend’s son. We have absolutely nothing in common!”

“This isn’t about you!” Hillary’s son has suffered during the pandemic and we think a nice date will make both of you happier.”

With that her mother pushed her towards the gate before driving away. Maria, thought about walking home but knew that her mother would react badly to such a show of defiance.

The evening was going to be very embarrassing.

So, like a condemned prisoner walking to the scaffold, she slowly approached the front door. It might be, what her mother quaintly called a ‘first date,’ but Maria had met Richard several years earlier and she had acted horribly towards him.

She felt her face go red as she remembered the evening when her friends had decided to embarrass a shy young man who had had the temerity to ask one of them out. He was a nerd and Anne had been insulted.

Naturally, she said no, but after telling her friends they had all decided on a nasty revenge. Anne had told him that she had changed her mind and thought it might be fun.

The poor besotted fool had arranged to meet Anne at a Gastro pub. The lad had been keen to impress and had willingly lodged his credit card behind the bar to start a ‘slate.’ Maria and the rest of her friends who were already there, had seen his confusion when he had been shown to a large booth rather than the intimate two-person table he had reserved.

They had waited until the waitress had delivered the couple’s food before the rest of the girls had gone over to the table and sat down. Anne had asked her brother to change the booking, so the pub was unsurprised to see ma larger party, and since the girls knew all the details had put a round of expensive cocktails on the slate.

She mentally cringed as she remembered how they had wedged him into the back of the booth and then had spent nearly an hour mocking him. It had been petty and childish, but they had finally reduced him to tears, then they had sashayed out of the pub leaving him with a bill that had been inflated by their ever so expensive drinks.

The young man had never complained, but over the years Maria had come to wish that She had never taken part in such a mean girl stunt. She had never apologized but now she had to spend an evening with him.

She swore at herself, squared her shoulders, and stepped resolutely up to the door. Whatever embarrassment she felt was well deserved.

Richard had spent the day cooking and tidying his house, he knew that his mother and her fellow harpy would discuss the ‘date’ later, having interrogated their children, and whatever nasty attitude the girl had he was, not going to be blamed for the disaster that was about to happen. When the car had stopped outside the house, he had watched in sour amusement as the old battle axe, who called herself his mother’s ‘bestie’ dragged an obviously reluctant young woman out of the car.

He looked at his date and unexpectedly found his interest, among other things, stirring. Maria was a stunning redhead, not the bottle blond she had been. He had decided to eat in the garden she had dressed accordingly in a long flowing floral skirt and an elegant white blouse. Both garments had the look of pure silk. A short green bolero jacket completed her outfit.

Fortunately, he had decided to dress up, hoping, he admitted, to place her at a disadvantage. As he went to his front door he thought about the meal he had cooked and started to hope that none of the food splashed on that, obviously, expensive blouse. His mother and her friend would never forgive him if it got ruined.

A slightly tentative knock woke him from his reverie, and he decided suddenly not to mention their previous meeting. His confidence had been damaged, and he had not been on a date since that night. His mother had told him that the pandemic had been hard on the girl and she had lost both job and fiancé. It was water under the bridge, and he might as well enjoy the evening as much as he could.

As the door swung open Maris found herself looking up at a slightly pudgy heavily built man. He was extremely pale but had obviously taken an effort with his appearance.

“Maria,” He smiled at her, slightly tentatively she thought, “Please come in.”

He stepped back and gestured for her to enter the house which she knew he had inherited from his grandparents. Having put her jacket on a hanger he led the way to the garden.

A table had been set up on the patio, in an angle between the house and the garden wall so that it would benefit from the evening sunlight and be protected from any evening breeze.

She walked to the table and seated herself as she was suddenly convinced that he was the type of man who would try to seat her. The evening was not going as she had expected, and she felt that she was at enough of a disadvantage.

In the days before the date, she had envisioned an awful evening with a sarcastic, vengeful jerk who would probably drone on about either football or some video game. Instead, there was a cultured man serving her some scallop dish, with a French name she could not repeat while they chatted about an organ recital, she had attended the previous year. A glass of a tart fruity white wine complemented the richness of the shellfish and Maria realized that she was enjoying the evening.

A soft noise from above her made her look up into the eyes of a massive ginger cat.

“That’s Cathkin,” The man’s love for the large feline obvious in his voice. “He’s just reminding me to make sure he gets the scallop shells when we finish with them.”

“I’m sorry, Puss,” she spoke to the animal, “I’m afraid I didn’t leave anything for you.”

“He doesn’t get table scraps,” Richard responded. “He just lives in hope.

The meal continued with herb crusted lamb chops, baked on a bed of fresh fennel. The food was accompanied by a dry rosé wine, again complementing the food perfectly.

Richard was a seriously good cook and a witty conversationalist. She knew that he had only invited her to dinner because they had both been bullied by their mothers. She did not want this to be the only time she experienced food this good.

“Richard,” Maria spoke quietly then hesitated as he looked questioningly at her. Then in a rush she continued. “I’m sorry I took part in that cruel prank. Embarrassed that I ordered an expensive cocktail, knowing that we were going to leave you with the bill. Most of all I’m mortified that we deliberately reduced you to tears and laughed about it for months.”

She buried her face in her hands, unable to look him in the eyes. After a moment she heard him start to talk.

“When I was coerced into offering you supper, I was originally going to be a complete jerk myself and deliberately spoil the food. Then I decided to do something worse and cook the best I could but make the meal emotionally uncomfortable. In fact, I was prepared to make you that very same cocktail as you liked it so much.” She raised her head to look at him and to her surprise he looked angry. “When I saw you arrive, I decided to make the evening as enjoyable as possible. Tomorrow this will be a memory, as for your apology? Too little, too late.”

There was a coldness in his voice and Maria realized that his pleasant demeanor was a façade. She felt a spurt of anger at his refusal to accept her apology then realized that she could have said sorry to him in the days after the incident. She had been too busy laughing with her friends to think of the victim.

“I have a chocolate mousse for dessert.” His voice was light and warm again as if the last few moments hadn’t happened, “It’s one of my signature dishes. Do you want some?”

“Yes please.” She said trying to make her voice sound light. She could understand his attitude and knew that she had to act gracefully.

The mousse looked wonderful and he had garnished it with some edible flowers, the effect was spectacular. Then to her surprise he changed the wine glasses and poured a deep red wine. She had been expecting another glass of rosé or perhaps a dessert wine.

She looked at him as he put the bottle down and he could see that he was amused by her confusion.

“I’ve poured you a glass of Merlot.” He smiled like a conjurer pulling a rabbit from his hat. “I know you probably associate red wines with meat of cheese and that’s fair. However, it works perfectly with rich chocolate puddings. Have a try.”

Cathkin looked down at the two humans and saw that his man had placed a dish of whipped cream on the table. He had stolen some when he had been a kitten and remembered the sweet rich taste. The two of them were talking about their drink and were not paying any attention to their food.

The big cat flowed down the fence and landed lightly before walking quietly over to the table. He tried reaching up to hook the dish down, unfortunately he could not quite reach. He crouched, looked up and jumped for the tabletop.

Maria saw the sudden movement and instinctively jerked away. Unfortunately, her sleeve caught her wine glass and it started to topple towards her. Richard saw the potential calamity. Reactions honed by years of playing cricket kicked in. Throwing himself forwards he caught the glass, but his momentum carried him sideways out of his chair. Turning as he fell, he ended up on his back with the glass held triumphantly upright in his hand.

He heard a gasp and looked up to see a disaster. His idiot cat, spooked by his sudden movement, had fled. Somehow the beast had managed to upset the girl’s dish into her lap. The beautiful silk shirt was covered in chocolate. He watched as she ran her forefinger up the front of the garment, stare at the mousse on her finger and then practically placde the digit into her mouth.

Then she laughed. It started as a nervous giggle before becoming a rich full vocalization of pure delight.

“That was great Richard.” Maria reached down and took the glass, “You didn’t even spill a drop.”

She took a sip then smiled. “You’re right it is a great combination.”

Richard got to his feet concerned. “What about your clothes. Your blouse is probably ruined and as it was my cat, I feel responsible. I can lend you a shirt then we can at least soak the blouse to mitigate the damage.

“If you have some jogging trousers, I can wash my skirt as well.”

Richard looked at her for a few moments then smiled gently.

“If you’d like to come to supper next Saturday, you can return my clothes, then.”

“OK,” she smiled contentedly. “It’s a date.”