Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 124, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 757 & 758, September/October 2004

He stood in line behind a construction worker who wanted cigarettes and a woman wearing too many clothes who smelled like urine, but he barely noticed them. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, eyes darting around the store. What else did he need? Dinner. He needed to make reservations, then call her for a date. Where? It had to be just right. Ambiance was more important than food. He got it. Geoffrey’s in Malibu, right on the water, small and intimate. On his cell phone, he dialed directory assistance, got connected, and made reservations for seven o’clock. Laura liked to eat early. God, this was fun.

Then he rang up Laura at work. She answered with that sleepy voice of hers. “Good afternoon. This is Laura.”

“How ’bout dinner?” He tried to sound sexy.

She hesitated a little before answering, but he didn’t make anything of it. She was probably preparing for a client. Then she said, “I would like that.”

“I’ll pick you up around six-thirty.” He couldn’t wait to see her.

The clerk, impatient for his money, glared at Scott with an expression that said he hated cell phones and hated the people who used them even more. Scott slipped the phone into his pocket, then paid for the champagne in cash. He was jazzed.

He had twenty minutes before he had to show a house in Brentwood. He dashed home to put the roses in water, cutting the ends at an angle like he’d seen his eldest sister Martha do.

He stopped. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t felt this stoked since he’d surfed the Banzai Pipeline in Oahu. That was awesome, but how many years ago was that — two? three? — way too long between mega-rushes. What had he been doing with his life?

His eyes drifted slowly around his apartment, a beige affair with Berber carpets and motel furniture left over from a fraternity brother who’d moved out. His surf board lay against one wall. He’d never gotten around to putting up pictures, not wanting to put up posters like a teenager, but also not wanting to take the time to figure out what else to hang.

He’d have to give all this up. He laughed at himself. Grow up, Scott! But was he doing the right thing? Was she the right girl?

Yes. The answer was clearer to him than anything in his entire life. Yes, he would ask her to marry him.

When Scott called Laura on the phone, she heard the excitement in his voice. She figured he’d gotten a job promotion, or a new motorcycle, or some other toy, or maybe one of the vacation bonuses that his job doled out to motivate their salespeople. She didn’t ask. She wasn’t even curious. She knew he liked to tell her such things in person, drawing out the telling like a ringmaster holding the spotlight as the house lights go down.

She liked Scott. She liked his boyish energy. She liked being treated so well. Perhaps she even loved him.

She put on a short black dress with spaghetti straps that clearly revealed her breasts underneath. It felt like wearing nothing at all. When she told him, she wanted to be completely vulnerable. She wanted to feel his hurt, and she wanted to appear her most beautiful when she hurt him.

It was a small revenge for what he did to her in her dream.

As he entered the restaurant, Scott overtipped the valet, the doorman, and the maÎtre d’. He wanted everything to be perfect. He got a table on the terrace and ordered a fancy wine.

She looked so beautiful in that black dress that looked like a slip, her hair loosely piled on top of her head, her eyes blue as tropical water, her mouth red, her bony shoulders vulnerable and seductive, her only jewelry a single black pearl he’d brought back for her from Tahiti, its pear shape falling in the crevice between her breasts.

He wanted to give her the ring now so he could watch it on her long fingers as she lifted her wine goblet and ate dinner, but he knew you were supposed to wait until after the meal, down on one knee, before the waiter brings coffee and dessert, before you order champagne to celebrate.

They ate in silence. She ordered Chilean sea bass in mango sauce, he the rack of lamb.

As the waiter took away their plates, Scott felt his heart beating rapidly and sweat gathering inside his shirt collar. He didn’t quite know where to start. He’d prepared a short speech in his mind, something about coming of age, taking his place in the community, sharing his life with the perfect woman, but now it seemed so cliché. He wanted words that were more real, that told her how wonderful she made him feel.

Then she said, “Scott, I have something to tell you. Perhaps it isn’t the right time, but I don’t suppose it ever will feel like the right time.”

“Go on,” he said. After his initial surprise, it occurred to him that maybe Laura was pregnant. A bit of a shock, but what could be better? They’d start a family right away. That sure would make his mother happy. Or maybe she was going to propose to him. He loved how she continued to surprise him, her secrets, her little revelations. He waited as she paused, searching as she always did for the right words.