Meet, Cute

Heart racing, I steadied myself with a deep breath, letting the familiar smell of dirt, greens, and sunscreen wash over me. It’s just another Saturday, I told myself as I bought honey and carrots from the smiling Mr. Ron. He was always perched on the front end of the farmer’s market, selling with a reliably beaming grin.

In our brief exchange, he told me how he had weathered last week’s storm. I hadn’t seen him in two weeks; the threat of Tennessee thunderstorms and tornadoes cancelling last week’s market. All the booths with metal poles stretching up to the sky seemed to be asking for it in severe weather.

We were interrupted when another customer arrived, eager for honey. I waved goodbye and set off for my usual routine. It was still relatively quiet, calm and slightly chilly in the April morning. The sun hadn’t yet risen above the buildings, so the whole street was covered in a shadow that made me seek warmth from pockets of sun peeking through. It was to be the kind of sunny day that made you long for the summer- bright and warm with a slight lingering chill.

I bought a coffee and meandered, buying a few more vegetables, picking out some pasta from the old Sicilian couple who always insisted I learn Italian, and smelling Mrs. Fairfield’s teas. My heartbeat began to climb and my stomach began to drop, even as I tried to control it. The next step in my weekly dance was to a small booth that only sold bread and wine. He would be there.

Usually the booth was run solely by Mr. Landry and his twin teenage daughters, but in the past month, they had gained another staff member. The twins excitedly introduced me to their older brother the week he moved back. When Dominic shook my hand, I knew it was over. His kind and handsome face looked into mine with such earnestness. I blush easily, and I could feel the signature red flush creeping up my cheeks. He was built with a broadness and a leanness that took up space in a welcoming way. His eyes were bright as he laughed with his sisters.

As I approached, he looked up at me with delight in his eyes.

“Morning, Lucy! I missed seeing you last week.” he stepped towards me, handing me a slice of warm bread wrapped in a napkin and shimmering with a thin layer of honey.

I took it with a nod of thanks, “Good morning! Got a toaster back there now?”

“I thought toasting a single slice would add to it’s appeal,” he responded, eyes dancing, “How is it?”

Taking a bite, I was reminded that I never truly appreciated how good bread could be until I met the Landry family, “It’s delicious.”

He beamed and clapped his hands, turning around to his family, “See? I’m full of ideas. Aren’t you glad I so generously agreed to help?”

They looked up, pretending they hadn’t been watching. In a sing-song voice that belonged on a playground, one of the twins responded, smiling sweetly, “Dom, we know you only keep helping because she comes.”

Her sister started to add something, but a customer walked up at that exact moment, breaking the awkwardness and saving me from going completely red. With his family distracted, Dominic turned back to me and shrugged, smiling, “They’re not lying. I like seeing you. I wanted to show you what my dad found when they were stuck at home in the storm.”

He rummaged through a bag hanging on the side of the booth and pulled out a bottle. Two weeks ago, we discussed wine until the line of shoppers had gotten too long to ignore.

“A Merlot!” The bottle was cool and smooth in my hands; I didn’t recognize the label.

“It’s a lighter one my parents brought back from Napa. From what you said about your tastes, it should suit you well.”

The sun spilled over the building behind him, making a vibrant entrance into the street. I put one hand up to shade my eyes, “It’s for me?”

“Yes! I managed to swindle him out of it,” Dominic said, then added, grinning, “But, if you’re willing to share, I would love to enjoy it with you over dinner.”

Finally. I smiled, “Of course.”

“What about tonight?”

Over his shoulder, I could see his sisters leaning backwards, trying to listen. The customer they were serving started talking louder, trying to recapture their attention. I nodded towards them; he looked and laughed, “You’ve won us all over, Lucy.”

My smile seemed to stretch through my entire body, “Tonight sounds great. My place? We can use these vegetables.”

He turned back to me and grinned, “Given that I worked up all this courage to ask you on a date-”

This was not helping the blush rising up my neck. He continued, “I’d love to cook for you, so location depends on if you have a grill.. and what you’ve in the bag.”

I slid the canvas bag off my shoulder and showed him the bright colors. He whistled appreciatively, “You’ve got a good eye. I’ll bring wine, bread, and everything else. Got a plan for those quinces? That’s a rare fruit. Doesn’t grow around here.”

Surprised he knew what it was, I told him, “Mrs. Fairfield...” he nodded in recognition, “She’s from England. She got it for me somehow. We both love ginger, and she said with ginger and honey, they’ll make an amazing pie.”

“Well, a date and a pie sound like a fair trade for this Merlot. Thank you, Mrs. Fairfield!” He called in her direction. She was a few yards away, selling teas to an elderly couple. She paid him no attention; she was hard of hearing.

He tucked the wine back into his bag with a promise to come over at 6 o’clock. I waved good-bye to the twins, who were straining to leave the counter and find out what happened.

---

I didn’t want to be on the front porch when he arrived, but I was on the front porch when he arrived.

I thought it might look too desperate, but I couldn’t help it. He was fifteen minutes early, at which time I had just remembered I needed to water my roommate’s dreary plants. Just as I leaned over the biggest pot to start in the back, the front gate squeaked open. I stood up too fast; all of the water sloshed out onto the front of my blue cotton dress.

“It goes on the plants, or so I hear” his voice rang out over the evening song of birds and bugs.

I groaned and turned around, a grimace on my face. He was smiling, a bag over his shoulder and hands behind his back.

“I didn’t have time for a swim, ” I smiled back at him, “Hi.”

We stood there for a moment, aware we had stepped beyond casual Saturday morning encounters. I wondered idly if I would have to find another farmer’s market if this date went terribly.

“Come in. I’ll show you the grill and then run up and change,” I set the bucket down beside the forlorn plant, “It’ll just take a sec.”

He nodded and stepped forward, climbing the steps onto the porch, “But wait,” he grinned, displaying a bottle from behind his back with a flourish, “I want to show you this. The other one is still for tonight, but this is a gift. I thought it fitting.”

It was another Merlot with a photo of a woman looking back over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eye and crisp waves in her hair. Reading the label, I laughed, “Meet cute, oh, that’s funny. Did the twins have to explain what that means?”

He shook his head, “I have four sisters. I can appreciate a good meet cute. But being assaulted by the guy’s youngest sisters at a farmer’s market hasn’t yet made it into the movie rotation.”

“It should have, considering the family business.”

He winked, “You would think.”

I showed him the backyard. By the time I came down, quiet music was drifting through the air from a small wireless speaker. Wine had been poured, the grill was lit, and Dominic was in the kitchen mixing a salad. As he prepped and I pulled out plates, glasses and utensils, we moved fluidly around each other. The conversation flowed more easily than it ever had, perhaps because of the lack of watching eyes. It was comfortable and fun with that sweet thrill and awkwardness of a first date.

Once everything was ready, I sat down outside. He settled down next to me, handing me my untouched glass of wine. I realized that in between talking and laughing and prepping, neither of us had taken a sip.

“It needed to breathe anyways,” he said in answer to my silent observation, “Cheers.”

I clinked my glass to his, “Cheers. I’m glad you’re here.”

He smiled and settled back into his chair, “Well, how is it?”

I took a sip. The wine was unlike anything I had tasted before: light and flavorful, sweet and smooth. “It tastes like spring,” I paused, “How do you know what to pair it with?”

He beamed, a glint of humor in his eyes, “Well, we always say, ‘There’s tannins and acid, there’s fat and there’s spices, but truly, the Landry’s are wherever the wine is.’ “

I smiled, “So, it doesn’t matter?”

“This will go great with grilled vegetables,” Dominic said, gesturing to the grill, “which actually should be done by now.”

He stood and continued while filling the plates, “It’s not that it doesn’t matter, it’s just that… you like what you like. As long as you’re not terribly off, who cares what you eat it with.”

I took another sip, “As someone whose family runs a store selling wine and bread, I expected you to be more picky.”

He gasped, eyebrows high in a playfully affronted expression, “I am picky! And I have exquisite tastes. The thing is, what is most important is the company. And, I certainly like my company right now.”

Time slyly slipped away, the sky’s colors gradually swirling from light blue to orange and lavender above our heads. We swapped childhood stories and bucket lists, embarrassing moments and favorite songs. It was easy and exciting and romantic. When I told him how I had learned to swing dance, his eyes lit up. He changed the music and pulled me up into his arms. We danced five glorious songs on my patio, spinning and twirling around, until I suddenly noticed the sun leaving the sky.

“Let’s watch from the front!” I grabbed our glasses and pulled him, laughing, through the house, trying not to spill.

We made it, and as we watched, rocking gently back and forth, the sky became even more vibrant, a perfect show. Nature’s spring evening song swelled.

Too quickly, the bright light slipped over the edge of the horizon. I clapped, quietly, like I always do. Grinning shyly, I turned to face him, ready to explain that my mom always wanted us to clap. He was already looking at me; I knew then that he hadn’t watched the sunset at all.

He had a small smile on his face, head tilted slightly, “You really are delightful, do you know that?”

He hesitated for a moment, the same amount of time it took for the sun to slide off into tomorrow, and leaned towards me. I closed my eyes and he kissed me once, softly, with one hand on my cheek. His hand trailed down my arm and curled around mine. We settled back onto the swing, fingers intertwined. He continued to gently rock the swing as the sky faded to a velvety navy. I took another sip; the wine tasted like him and spring and memories we would make together.