She stretched up and kissed me lightly on one cheek and said, “You look great.”
“As soon as I can catch my breath,” I said, “I’ll return the compliment. For the nonce, will wow suffice?”
She smiled and stepped back and took a longer look at me.
“Hey,” she said, “we sort of match tonight, don’t we?”
“In every way possible, kid,” I told her. “And now, madam, your carriage awaits.”
We walked through the lobby and out the front door to the covered walkway. As we approached the Camry, I fingered the remote unit on the key chain, unlocking the car doors. Laura had been looking around for the 4Runner, but when I stopped in front of the Toyota, she looked at the car and then at me.
“Somebody got new wheels,” she said. “And I like them.”
“Just a little something I picked up at Cars-R-Us this afternoon,” I said, as I held the door for her. Watching Laura turn and sit down and slide onto the leather seat was worth the cost of the car right there.
I went around and got in on the driver’s side and buckled my seat belt. Laura had already buckled hers, but, as usual when she was dressed up, she held the shoulder belt out and away from her just an inch or so, so as not to wrinkle her dress.
“I like the color,” she said. “I’ve always thought that dark gray is a classic look for a car.”
“Gray?” I said, in mock horror. “This ain’t gray. It’s antique sage pearl. Jeez, woman, don’t you know nothin’?”
Her eyes opened wider than you’ve have thought possible, and I got the impish grin.
“Well,” she said, “I’ll tell you what I do know, mister. I know that if I cross my legs like this,” and she did, “it makes my dress ride, well, my goodness, halfway up my thigh, a move that I’ve noticed seems to elicit a very definite response on your part. Of course, I could just cover my legs with my coat on the drive to the restaurant.”
“Now that you mention it,” I said, “car does have kind of a grayish tint.”
Laughing, she turned slightly and put her coat on the back seat.
“I don’t need the coat now,” she said, “but it’s supposed to get a little cooler later tonight.” Settling back in her seat, and, I was happy to notice, once again crossing her legs, she said, “I haven’t been to Hyeholde for a couple of years. I’m glad Dennis suggested it. And speaking of Dennis, tell me again about his parents.”
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I said, “Dennis’ father was a chemist. Mrs. Wilcox was director of admissions at Chatham College. They made a good living, but when Denny and I were in high school, his dad patented a couple of formulas he’d been working on for years. Sold the patents to a major pharmaceutical firm for several million dollars. He and his wife retired and began traveling a lot.”
We were out of Monroeville now and on the Parkway East, which would take us downtown and through the Fort Pitt Tunnels.
“Then,” I continued, “in April of Dennis’ sophomore year in college, his parents were on a plane to Italy that went down over the Atlantic.”
“That’s awful,” Laura said. “And you two have maintained this friendship all these years, since back in elementary school.”
I nodded.
“Denny and Angie and me,” I said.
“I don’t think I still know anyone from elementary school,” she said. “The three of you must have a special relationship.”
I nodded again.
“Okay, so how did Dennis end up with the police department?”
“He inherited enough money from his parents that he could do anything he wanted, didn’t have to do anything, really, if he didn’t want to. His grandfather was a cop, and Denny had always admired him. Just before our college graduation, Dennis surprised us all by taking the test for the police academy. Got accepted, of course, and the rest is history.”
As we drove through the tunnels and onto the Parkway West, heading toward the airport, we talked about Laura’s kindergarten class and my meeting with Paris Soloman and the Steelers and the mild weather we’d been having, anything and everything. Talking with Laura, listening to the sound of her voice, is one of my favorite things.
We took Exit 3, a few miles before Pittsburgh International, and drove along the road that led to the old airport. Five minutes later, we pulled into a long driveway that wound past several huge medieval flags hanging from the trees on either side, until we emerged in front of what appeared to be a large white brick castle. Hyeholde has been one of the area’s most elegant restaurants for many years, and a dinner there is always an event.
A young man in a valet uniform opened Laura’s door and helped her out, then walked around to my side. His attention appeared to be wandering a bit as he handed me the ticket.
“Guess you noticed the car,” I said. “Antique sage pearl.”
“Uh-huh,” he said. “It’s very nice, sir.” Then he got in the Camry and drove it around to the back of the building.
Laura and I approached the five half-circular steps that led to the restaurant’s front door.
“Poor lad,” I said. “Couldn’t take his eyes off my new wheels.”
Laura stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to me. This time I got both the smile and the upturned eyes.
“Actually,” she said, “I don’t think it was your wheels he was looking at.”
And as I watched her walk up the steps ahead of me, I could see her point.
Chapter 20
Just as we reached the front door of the restaurant, a white BMW 735 pulled up at the valet station.
“Hold on a minute, babe,” I said. “Denny’s here.”
The young man who’d taken my Camry walked around the corner of the building and headed toward Denny, all the while sneaking looks at Laura. She gave him a smile and he stumbled a little getting into
