The cherubs and putti were first, and he forced himself to play their game, comparing two illustrations that hung side by side. “So, which is which?”
“That’s a cherub,” she replied, about a heavenly-looking little guy. “And those are putti,” she added, referring to the other drawing, where mischief ran amuck.
“How about that one?” He gestured to a painting that wasn’t as easy to define.
She gazed at it for a while. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Truthfully, I don’t, either. Sometimes it’s tough to know what the artist is trying to convey.”
They moved onto the sensual art, where lust reigned supreme.
Dana approached an alluring picture. “Look how beautiful it is.”
Eric was looking. He wished he wasn’t, though. The image was a photograph of a bewitching redhead reclining on a satin-draped bed with her hair coiled around the pillow and shaped into a heart. A tall, leanly muscled man tossed red dahlias onto the bed, only he was in shadow, his presence adding an air of mystery.
“I think she’s dreaming about him,” Dana said. “And that he’s not really there.”
Eric could see why Dana was attracted to this piece, especially with the inclusion of the dahlias. It made him want to kiss her, here and now, but it was neither the time nor the place, not when they’d agreed on a good-night kiss at her door.
He said, “The flowers are the same as what’s on your dress.”
“I noticed that, too. I can imagine being her, lying in bed, thinking about my lover. If I had a lover,” she amended.
To keep from envisioning her in the same pose as the model, he asked, “Why do you wear flowers in your hair at work?”
“They make me feel happy, bright and pretty. I always wear them at my right ear because I read somewhere that it means a woman is available. Once I switch to my left ear, it will mean I’m taken.”
“Remember the rose you gave me on the day I told you that I was a widower?”
She nodded.
“I took it to Corrine’s grave. I try to bring her flowers when I can. It’s weird, though, because I’ve probably given her more flowers in death than I gave her in life.”
“I’ve never been to a funeral or a cemetery or anything like that. No one close to me has ever died.”
He’d seen more than his share of death. “You’re lucky.”
“I’m lucky to be on this date, too. And I love that you brought me an orchid.”
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think it’s only fair to say it. Corrine’s bridal bouquet had orchids in it. But I’m not sure if I chose it for that reason or it was subconscious.”
“You said yesterday on the phone that I was confusing you. I guess that holds true for tonight, too.”
“So it seems.”
She smiled her usual smile. “I still love that you gave me the orchid.”
“You don’t care that I’m confused?”
“I just want you to be enjoying yourself.”
Strangely enough, he was. “When we leave here, do you want to go for a walk on the pier?” Confusion aside, he wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
* * *
Dana breathed in the sea air. Although a few of the restaurants remained open, most of the shops were closed. The connecting amusement park was shut down for the night, too, keeping winter hours.
“Did you know that this pier opened in 1909?” Eric asked.
“I knew it had been here awhile, but I didn’t know the exact era. How different it must have been back then.”
“I’ve seen old pictures of it with the men wearing suits and the women in long dresses. People used to fish here, too. Of course, they still do.”
She nodded. She’d noticed people fishing on previous visits.
He said, “On a clear day, you can see Catalina Island. I used to spend a lot of time here as a kid.” His hair blew across his forehead. “I even got married near here. The ceremony was on the beach.”
“That sounds beautiful.” She watched the nighttime waves crash onto the shore, the wind whipping across the water. She didn’t mind that he talked about his wife. She was actually touched by how easily he confided in her about Corrine. “How old were you?”
“Twenty. We got married while we were in college.”
She tried to picture him at that age and decided that he probably looked pretty much the same. Some people didn’t change dramatically. Dana’s mother had, but Mom had lived a tough life.
He said, “After we graduated, we pursued similar career paths. Me as a teacher and her as a youth counselor.”
“You had a lot in common.”
“Right from the start.”
The breeze blew a little harder, fluttering the fringe on her shawl.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“I think the air feels good.” Being in his presence made her warm. She was wildly attracted to him: his tall, dark appearance, his cautious mannerisms. She especially liked the way he looked at her when he wasn’t aware that she was stealing glances at him. She could only imagine how he used to look at his wife. She’d never known anyone who’d seemed to be that much in love. Eric was so deep and intense, so different from Dana. She’d seen how strongly the tragic artwork at the gallery had affected him. It was odd, too, how this date was playing out, with them ending up at the same beach as where he’d gotten married.
“Are you hungry for dessert?” he asked, his voice cutting into her thoughts. “Or do you want a cup of coffee or a soda or anything?”
“I wouldn’t mind having a milkshake. Chocolate always does the trick for me.”
“I think the soda fountain place is getting ready to close. But I’ll hurry and nab you one.”
He left her standing at the rail with her shawl billowing and her mind on his wedding. She was also thinking about her own life and the part of her future that mattered most to her family.
When he returned with her milkshake, she thanked him, took a sip and said, “I want to get married and have kids someday. I promised my mom that I would never repeat our family history.”
“What history?”
“Of unwed mothers. My mom was a single mother and so was her mother. It’s not a very romantic legacy. Women raising children by themselves.”
He frowned. “Why weren’t the dads involved?”
“I was the product of a one-night stand so I have no idea who my father is. That was the only time Mom had ever done anything like that, and she’s ashamed of her behavior, even until this day.” Dana drank more of her milkshake, taking comfort in the chocolate. “She loves me and she’s been a good parent, but there was still shame attached to my birth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My grandmother’s story is worse. She slept with a married man and that’s how she got pregnant with my mom. She had a reputation for being a loose woman in her day, but it wasn’t true. He’d seduced her into believing that he would leave his wife for her, and she paid the ultimate price when he spurned her afterward and refused to claim the baby. So you can see why they’re pinning their hopes on me to have children