From Across the Room

Lizzie made her way along the path that ran on the outskirts of the wooded area just along the pond. The early morning’s mist still hung above the water’s edge. It was eerily quiet except for the chirping of birds that flitted through the tree branches above her. Her Golden Retriever, Maggie, was at her side, a fierce protector at all times. She absorbed the energy that nature’s beautiful setting provided. It was moments like these that made her confident that moving to the secluded coastal town was the best decision she’d ever made. Life as a writer had never had more inspiration than it did right now. She lived and breathed every creative endeavor with a fervor previously unknown. At twenty-nine years of age, it had been worth it to begin anew and leave everything behind.

Stopping by the local café, she was greeted by one of her closest friends, Rebecca, as she poured a steaming cup of coffee into a waiting cup.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Rebecca smiled.

“Morning, Becca,” Lizzie replied, reaching over to grab a dog biscuit from the jar on the counter for Maggie, who sat eagerly awaiting the treat as her tail swished back and forth on the hardwood floor.

Lizzie had barely seated herself and managed her first sip of coffee before Rebecca leaned on her elbows across the broad expanse of counter in front of her and smiled questioningly.

“What?” Lizzie asked, suddenly looking about her but seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“Lizzie,” Rebecca began, a bit timidly.

Lizzie dubiously squinted one eye and adamantly replied with a flat “No!” before the thought could be completed by her friend.

Rebecca straightened and looked squarely at Lizzie. “Well, you don’t have to be rude.”

“Me? Rude? Because I won’t agree to whatever it is you’re thinking about guilt tripping me into?”

“Just this once, Lizzie. Please,” Rebecca begged giving Lizzie her most endearing, pleading look. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Lizzie looked skeptically at her friend. “Won’t regret what?”

Seeing her chance, Rebecca quickly began, “My cousin, Garrett, is coming to town for a short visit….” But before she could continue, Lizzie began to shake her head.

“No, no, no, and no!” Lizzie said, rolling her big green eyes in exasperation.

“Lizzie! You’ll absolutely adore him!” Rebecca insisted. “Besides, Garrett’s from England and knows all about that silly classical and…well, all that silly English stuff you like so much. He went to Oxford, after all.”

Lizzie eyed her friend, suddenly more interested than she had been initially, although not quite willing to admit as much “Oxford?”

Rebecca saw her moment and swooped in for the kill. “Yes, Oxford! He’s really smart and also good-looking! You know, big blue eyes, brown hair, tall, yummy accent– all of the above! I promise you will absolutely love him. Just dinner with him – one night. Please.”

Lizzie looked down at her coffee. It wouldn’t do to let Rebecca think she’d won so easily. She'd thought herself an expert at matchmaking ever since two other friends she’d introduced had married. Lizzie gave her friend a fierce look of reprimand before she reluctantly agreed to "just dinner" with the visiting cousin from England.

Ignoring Rebecca’s gleeful shrill of triumph, she reminded her, “Just one date. When?”

Rebecca nodded, still smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary. “Next week - Tuesday. Get yourself something new to wear. You’ll thank me later, I promise,” she said as she turned to go about her business.

Lizzie smiled. She likely did need something other than the normal writing attire she’d made herself comfortable with of late. Leggings and bulky sweaters were very comfortable in the cooler weather but usually did not make a great first impression. Despite her history of failed first dates, she hoped that the dinner with Garrett would prove to be more interesting. She could certainly use a change of pace, as well as the possibility of some new inspiration for her unfinished novel.

Not giving the dinner or Garrett much more thought, she finished her coffee and headed home with Maggie at her side to write a little more. She would make time for shopping before next week, but it was not a priority right now.

It was bright and early the following Tuesday, and Lizzie had just completed her morning walk along the pond’s edge with Maggie. She stopped by the café for coffee as usual, but Rebecca was not working. Sipping her coffee, she grimaced as she realized that it was now the day of her date, and she had not yet gone shopping for the “something new". Well, she would just have to pull an outfit out of her closet and make the best of it. She was not troubling herself to shop for something new when she was more than sure nothing would come of this first date.

Rebecca had already given her instructions. Would she mind meeting Garrett in the city just over the big bridge for a cozy and delicious dinner at the Italian place she liked so much? It all sounded beautifully orchestrated, and if she knew her friend as well as she thought she did, she was sure that dinner would include wine, candlelight, and romantic music. All this foolery might very well be worth it for an excellent glass of Tuscan Merlot, she thought as she left the café.

At home, Lizzie worked for several hours before she stretched across her comfy bed. A nap was very much in order to ensure she didn’t fall asleep in the midst of her date, she mused to herself. Moments later she was lulled to sleep with daydreams of a tall, dark-haired man with a lovely British accent reciting Shakespeare’s sonnets over two large glasses of burgundy Merlot.

Hours later, Lizzie awoke suddenly, aware that the room was dimming as the sun lowered itself across the skyline. She could not believe she’d slept so long! Well, one thing was certain: she would not fall asleep during dinner, no matter how boring the company might end up being.

She showered quickly. Frustrated by her lack of available time, she decided to pull her russet colored curls into a loose bun at the back of her head. Small wisps of hair stubbornly refused to be tamed and fell to frame her oval face. It would have to do, especially since she still had to decide what to wear. Before heading to the closet, she managed a few quick makeup touches to accentuate the blush of her cheeks and make her large, emerald eyes the focus of attention.

Standing before the closet, she pulled out the little, black dress that every woman should own. Wearing the dress meant she would have to also wear heels, but such was the sacrifice considering she didn’t have time for more options. Slipping into the dress, she sighed with relief; thankfully, it still fit like a glove. Despite the three-quarter length sleeves, the night air was chilly, so she pulled a matching shawl with a hint of silver thread from her armoire. Moments later, she slipped on heels and stopped to briefly survey herself in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her purse and made a dash for the car.

The night was beautiful, and the weather was crisp and clean. The twinkling city lights beckoned her as she made the track over the long bridge, nearly still waves flowing like glass beneath it. She tried not to think too much about Garrett – she didn’t want to be disappointed. Instead, she was focusing on the glass of Merlot she would soon order. Nothing was better than a glass of Merlot. One sip of the wine, and she could feel it move through her body, warming her all the way to her tippy toes. It was her favorite by far, embodying richness and depth with every sip.

She easily found a spot near the entrance at which to park. Stepping into the small Italian restaurant, she was immediately transported to Italy. This place had the best ambience, she thought to herself as she surveyed the small establishment in hopes of spotting her date. It appeared that, amazingly, she had arrived prior to Garrett. She allowed the hostess to sit her at a small table near the blazing fireplace, wondering if he would be late.

A small crystal vase of purple flowers sat directly in front of her as she took her seat. Just as she had suspected, the candles glimmered on the crisp, white tablecloths and soft strains of Italian music filled the room. It was the perfect setting for a special night, though most likely not for her. She took a deep breath and concentrated as she reviewed the wine list, impulsively deciding to order a bottle of Tuscan Merlot. Hopefully, Garrett would appreciate such a gesture.

The small bell at the door tinkled lightly to signal the arrival of another guest. Lizzie looked up to see a man enter the establishment. Even in the dim light, she could see that he was quite handsome. He was tall and slender with thick waves of chestnut hair. As he surveyed the room, Lizzie hesitantly lifted her hand with a slight wave.

The man ceased his perusal of the guests and focused all attention on Lizzie. He momentarily watched her from where he stood. Entranced, she was suddenly reminded of that beautiful song by Rodgers and Hammerstein, “Some Enchanted Evening”. She had watched South Pacific repeatedly as a child and knew the song by heart. She felt silly, imagining herself caught in a magical moment, entranced by a man from across the room, just like in the song. But still, she wondered, could this be real? Could this possibly be him? Had she by chance broken the failed history of first dates? If so, then the world would surely stop spinning, she quickly surmised.

Suddenly and methodically, he approached, his blue eyes never wavering from her green ones. She stood and extended her hand in greeting. It felt small within the strength of his firm handshake, but the warmth of his smile assured her that this was no ordinary first date. And then, he spoke, and she knew beyond a doubt that her world had screeched to a stop. That beautiful, lilting British accent. The words rippled forth from his lips as if he had invented the English language.

“Good evening. Lizzie,” he said, the timbre of his voice melodic and deep.

“Good evening. It’s nice to meet you, Garrett,” she said, feeling inordinately clumsy and simple-tongued.

His smile grew to reveal a deep dimple in his right cheek as she confirmed who she was, as if he was immensely relieved. Could it be possible that he felt as drawn to her as she was to him? She was certainly beginning to feel very much like a moth drawn to the flame. Had the world finally righted itself after so many misaligned attempts? She smiled warmly at the thought and in response to his own broad smile.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered a bottle of Tuscan Merlot,” she said as she resumed her seat. She started to say that the wine was her favorite, but before she could mention it, Garrett responded.

“Perfect. It’s my favorite.”

The words were simple ones, but the way he said it, enhanced by his rich accent, gave Lizzie pause, and the smile upon her face grew even larger.

“Yes, perfect,” she said. "It’s my favorite, too.”

Lizzie was convinced of one thing in the heartbeat and magic of the moment: this was going to be an amazing evening. Maybe she hadn’t taken the time to buy that little “something new” as Rebecca had suggested, but she was already undoubtedly sure that she would be thanking her dear friend for many years to come.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Some_Enchanted_Evening