But I was convinced that falling in love, or even in like, with a guy like Luke would be the antidote to her imaginary diseases. The only thing she really suffered from was loneliness. There’s a lot of that going around.
“Oh,” he said. His expression was sort of . . . unreadable. “Huh. That’s too bad.”
I stuffed my phone into my bag and took a slurp from my glass, feeling ridiculous. “I’m really sorry. I’ll just finish my drink and then get out of your hair.”
He frowned. “Why? I thought we were having dinner? The server said the gift cards had already been entered and that we could order anytime.”
“Luke,” I said, tilting my head to one side. “You don’t have to pretend. We both know what’s going on here. I’m only here because Monica was nervous about dating again and wanted me along for moral support.”
I picked up my glass and drained it by half, anxious to save us both further embarrassment by making a quick getaway from an awkward situation.
“Don’t let this discourage you, okay? Monica’s life is complicated,” I admitted. “Vince was serially unfaithful to her. Now she’s left holding the bag, doing her best to take care of two teenage step-kids and run the restaurant. Monica trained as a chef, not a businesswoman. Or a mother. She tries, but she’s in way over her head.”
I tipped the wineglass high against my lips and gulped the contents.
“Don’t give up on her. She’s a good person.” I pushed back my chair. “Next time, you ask her out. You won’t regret it.”
“Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Sit down.”
Something about his tone reminded me of my high school history teacher, Mr. Harding, who ran such a tight ship that we didn’t breathe without raising a hand to ask permission first. I sat down. The server passed by and saw my empty glass.
“Wow. That was quick. You must have been thirsty. Can I bring you another?”
“No, I’m fine. I was just—”
“Yes, please. Another round for both of us.” Luke’s voice seemed to affect the server the same way it did me. She hurried off to do his bidding.
“So,” he said. “Let me clear up a couple of things. I’m not interested in dating Monica. I’m here because I’m trying to get my business going. And because there was no way I was going to turn down free oysters. I developed a taste for them while I was in France. And for good wine.”
He lifted his glass to his lips and took another sip.
“I’ll tell you something,” he said, his voice wistful, “French food”—he spread his hands—“there’s just no word for how good it is.”
“Really?” I said, propping my chin in my hand.
“Really. Have you ever had poached quail eggs with hollandaise? Or potatoes fried in duck fat? You should. Not too much because it’s so rich. But that’s the thing about French cooking—small portions but incredibly satisfying.” He took a drink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to change the subject. I’m boring you.”
“Not at all. I’m fascinated. I’ve always dreamed of going to France.”
“You should. I really am glad to be back in the States, especially Oregon, but France is a wonderful place to visit. And dining out in the Loire Valley, even at the simplest little bistro, was a real experience. But,” he said, taking another sip, “I hate eating out by myself.”
“Oh, I hear you. Makes me feel so conspicuous. I always think people are staring at me. At home you can at least turn on the TV for company.”
Luke nodded his understanding. “Since I came back to Portland, Alex Trebek and I have become very close.”
“You like Jeopardy!? I pegged you as more of an ESPN guy.”
“I’d rather play sports than watch them. But if we’re sizing each other up . . .”
He narrowed his eyes, made a show of examining my face. “PBS,” he said, snapping his fingers. “You like Masterpiece Theatre. And Nova. Am I right?”
“Turner Classics. I love old movies. I like knowing good guys from bad guys and being certain that, in the end, the good guy wins.”
“Happy endings,” Luke said. “Real life ought to come with more of those.”
He took another drink. I did the same, then put down my glass and ran my finger around the rim, trying to decide if I should ask the obvious question.
“So . . . you ran away to France for three years. Now you’re back and you and Alex Trebek are besties. Divorce?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but that happened a couple of years before I went to France. I came home from the office one day, announced that I was leaving the law firm. Within a month, I opened my carpentry business. Within a year, I knew I would fail if I didn’t find a way to offer something other people couldn’t. I needed more training. So, I did some research and found a master carpenter in Amboise who was willing to take on an American apprentice, then sold my stuff and booked my ticket. But the marriage was really over on the day I quit the firm. She moved out the next week.
“I get it,” he shrugged. “She didn’t sign up to be married to a tradesman, and I didn’t sign up to work in a job I hated to support a lifestyle I didn’t give a damn about. We just wanted different things. No hard feelings. You?”
I put my hands in my lap, felt the indentation at the base of my finger where my ring should have been. “It’s . . .”
“Complicated?”
I nodded, but not just because I didn’t want to talk about it. It really was complicated. And sad. And I wasn’t up for sad just then. Luke was right; real life ought to come with more happy endings. Who do I see to complain about that?
“I should go.”
Luke swallowed quickly. “Don’t!
