Cafe Romance (19 page)

“We will fax you over an agreement for the purchase within the hour. Get it notarized and expressed mailed to us.”

“I’ll have my attorney look over the agreement before I write that check, okay.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Douglass. It is a pleasure doing business with you, although you do drive a hard bargain.”

Kurt chuckled. “Not as hard a bargain as you.”

With that said, he hung up the phone.

T
he following day, Yvette found herself in Kurt’s company again at the
Café
.  Both had worked up just as much an appetite for seeing one another as they had worked up for eating. The newness of their relationship still carried with it an air of anxiousness, right up to the point where they greeted one another. After that, they would experience a sense of relief, then calm. It was one hell of a roller coaster ride, to say the least.

Today's special lunch cuisine was French and the restaurant was booked solid. No problem for Kurt, reserving a table for two. Yvette always handled that from her end. Seated, the two picked up their conversation almost where they ended it several days before. This time around, Yvette remembered to ask him why he and his wife never divorced.

Kurt shrugged, letting his eyes move over her lovely face, and said, "Funny you should ask that. But I have thought about it many times. I imagine I wanted to make sure we had given the subject matter and ourselves some time and a lot of thought before actually going through with it." For a moment, Kurt thought he had detected a trace of protest in her tone as she reminded him that it had been almost a year since he and his wife had parted ways.

A pregnant pause took hold as she wondered if a year was more than enough time for two people to decide on divorcing, but his logic was the kind she could understand, so she left it at that. Changing subjects, she asked him about his ten-speed bike and his car, a car she has never seen him drive. This time she stressed for more details.

“It’s an older model car,” he began. “And it’s being completely restored. I’ve been assured as recently as yesterday, that I should have it back by month's end.”

“By month’s end,” she mouthed softly.

“Yes,” he replied. Then more playfully, he informed her that his bike was a European twenty-one speed, not a ten-speed.

She laughed, saying, "Well, excusseee me!”

“No reason to,” he answered with a wide grin.

Yvette wagged her head. “So, I guess your car is a European make, too?”

“No, it’s American made,” Kurt answered. “When it’s ready, I’ll reveal it to you, okay? It’ll be like seeing it for the first time at the dealership. New! And I’ll make sure you are my very first passenger.”

“I’m sure you will,” she said, beaming.

“I will,” he assured her, as he disarmed her with his boyish smile.

C
hapter 12

Y
vette knew a chance meeting was always possible. In many ways, it was outright inevitable. But she wasn’t counting on it happening today. She told herself that she could handle this.

Kurt had arrived at the
Café
and a tad earlier than usual. As a result, he happened upon her and her want to-be-love interest, Antwan, standing outside the restaurant talking.

Dismounting his bike, Kurt chained it to the nearest utility pole and approached the two sporting a warm smile while serving up a friendly greeting.

Feeling a little awkward, she introduced the two men to one another. Other than a slightly sarcastic and antagonistic comment by Antwan about Kurt needing to upgrade to a car, a real means of transportation, the two potential paramours said very little to one another after their introductions. Antwan departed shortly afterwards. And in her car!

What was that all about, Kurt fumed inside.

Now alone with him, she quickly reminded him that Antwan was just a close friend who simply dropped by to pick up her car to take home to perform maintenance work on it. With that understanding, the two went inside the restaurant to enjoy a quiet lunch.

“So you two go way back, huh?” Kurt asked, after cutting a piece of veal.

“You can say that,” she paused to say, then returned to chewing her Sea Bass, which had been cooked Cantonese Style.

“Is he married?”

“Antwan? Some time ago but not now. I don’t think he or his former wife was ready for marriage.”

“Oh,” Kurt nodded.

“Why did you ask?”

“I was just wondering.

Yvette scooped a spoonful of seasoned vegetables and gaze Kurt’s way but said nothing.

“So you two go out occasionally?”

“Only occasionally,” she answered, knowing he was justified in his probing line of questioning.

“What line of work is he into? I mean, is he an auto mechanic?”

“He knows a lot about cars, but he works for the electric company. He’s ambitious and wants to go into business for himself sometime this year.”

“What type of business?”

“He wants to bring back the tailor shops that used to be so prominent in the fifties and sixties.”

“Sounds interesting,” he murmured.

“Interesting that you asked.”

“Just curious, that’s all,” he came back.

“Are you sure that’s all,” Yvette said with a nervous grin.

“I’m sure.”

“Again, he’s just a friend, Kurt. Nothing more.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” he said, using her line of questioning on her.

Though she failed to respond, her lips parted with uncertainty.

Later in the day, she revisited the moment and with great interest, especially the moment the two pursuers shook hands. Though both had been all smiles, there was an air of competitive uneasiness between them, she had sensed. In a way, it felt kind of good, the attention she was getting. Nothing like a little friendly rivalry, she thought.

Whether it was by design or just plain coincidence, she noticed an increase in Antwan's phone calls and in his visits to her condo after his introduction to Kurt a week earlier. There was also an increase in his requests to take her out. “Men! Always competing with one another," she quipped.

As Juanita once told her, “Hell! It’s always about size and who was first with them. They want to see whose arm is bigger and whose penis is longer or who scored first.”

She didn’t bring this up with Kurt, but she noticed that whenever she mentioned Antwan's name, he would become withdrawn and less talkative. Was it envy, insecurity, or just unwarranted concern on his part, she pondered?

N
early three weeks had passed since their first encounter at the
Café
and finally Yvette was going to get a chance to visit Kurt’s place, she mused, as she bathed herself then shampooed her hair. If it wasn’t for the fact that he ate lunch at the
Café
on a regular basis, she doubted they could have sustained a friendship at all, when you add to the mix, her work schedule and evening aerobics classes and doctorate course work on the weekends. Drying herself off, she threw on a robe and began the long arduous process of whipping her hair into shape. Afterwards, she dressed.

The two were scheduled to have lunch at his place first, and then visit the local outlet mall. There was a book-signing scheduled there involving one of her favorite authors and she had invited Kurt to come along. 

Busy too, Kurt could not wait to impress Yvette with his newly discovered cooking skills. He wanted everything to be just right. After all, lunch had become an important ritual for them. Both had made it a point to meet for lunch at least three days out of the week at the
Café
, other times at neighboring eateries. Though the two were not seriously involved, according to them, their lunch dates were with such frequency that one could easily conclude, erroneously, that they were indeed just that - seriously involved. Only on two occasions did she cancel out due to other arrangements she had made with Antwan. As a matter of prudence, she had made it a point to tell him that Antwan often invited her out for lunch. This did not seem to bother Kurt. Not at first.

I
t was a warm and pleasant day to visit a new friend and bond, Yvette felt. It was a day filled with the promise of great expectation. And she couldn’t wait to get that rare glimpse inside the world Kurt lived in. Her mother had told her on numerous occasions that there was much that could be learned about a man, not necessarily in the type of house he lived in, but in his upkeep of it.
A slob was a slob, whether the slob was a pauper or royalty, man or woman,
mother always said.

Yvette drove the outer city route, according to the directions Kurt had provided her with, and was thankful for his preciseness and detailed annotations. The people she knew were not usually known for giving good directions. Her guy was an exception.

Pulling up into the RV resort, and in less time than she thought it would take, she drove around slowly until she came upon the lot she was looking for, parked her Corvette, and removed herself gracefully from it. Scanning the area, she took into view the long bus-style motorhome parked before her, which had the word
Moonbeam
scripted across the side in large blue print, just as he had told her. A small satellite dish sat on top. It was not what she had expected, which was the typical 26-foot travel-camper with the overhead cabin extension. And this was not your typical run-of-the-mill RV Park she thought she'd find, either.

To her surprise, the lots at this resort were immaculately cut and beautifully landscaped, just like the landscaping you’d find at an upscale vacation resort. There were tall oak and magnolia trees, tropical foliage, and sago and pigmy date palms about the area. Less than a hundred feet from the enclave of sleek looking motorhomes was a thick forest of eldarica and eastern white pine on several slopping hills. It was a splendid and scenic sight. Even the air seemed refreshing and charged, just like the atmosphere after an electrical storm.

Walking over to the door, she rang the buzzer and awaited Kurt's appearance. The door opened wide and the two greeted each other as if they were long lost friends and had not seen one another in years.

Sporting a radiant smile, Kurt invited her inside of his house on wheels. Once inside her mouth dropped, as she stopped in her tracks. “Oh man, this is awesome, Kurt!” she exclaimed.

She had never ventured inside a modern day RV before. As she could see, Kurt’s motorhome was more spacious and luxurious and modern than she could have ever imagined. The place was definitely built for comfort and pleasure. Stepping aboard a luxury yacht for the very first time would produce the same elation she was feeling. No, this was no seagoing yacht but its quality and luxury was in no way diminished.

Kurt noticed her wonderment and offered her a grand tour. She jumped at the chance to see the rest of the RV.

There was the built-in 28" flat-screen color television at the front, above and to the right of the driver’s cockpit area, modern kitchen appliances, including a microwave oven and coffee maker, oak grain cabinets, a luxurious and spacious ceramic-tiled bathroom, with a combination bathtub and shower, a combination washer/dryer, a 15"
Sony
hi-definition television in the bedroom with a combination DVD/VCR player, and a 60 watt stereo system in the master bedroom. A built-in computer station was positioned nearby.

Taking her outside the RV, he showed her a pull out, top-of-the-line 80 watts audio/video entertainment system that featured a 22" HD television, which had been custom-built inside one of the storage compartments beneath the motorhome. It was used for picnics and other outdoor entertainment. This marvel on wheels also featured the latest
Garmin
global satellite positioning technology that was available on the market.

Like a little boy showing off his new toys, Kurt was happy to have her browse around and ask question upon question about his motorhome and its operation. After the tour they settled on the soft leather sofa.

“Man, this place is beyond what I’d ever imagined,” she said with a broad smile. “So, what are you? A former rock star or what?”

“Naah...just managed my money well and made a few good investments that’s all.”

“That’s right, you did tell me that you sold your home.”

“That’s right,” he answered, though not quite 100% true. He and Leslie had sold the house, but it was with his lotto winnings that he bought his RV.

“Man, I think I could live out of something like this.”

“It has its advantages, I must say,” Kurt replied.

“Whose photo is that?” she asked walking over to a coffee table.

“That’s my beloved grandmother. She lives up in Jersey. Over here is a photo of my deceased mother and father. It’s the only photo I have of them together.”

“And who are these cute little girls and whom I presume is their father?” she asked about the next 10” by 12” photo. “You know, he looks familiar.”

“They’re my nieces and that’s their father, my brother Arthur Davenport,” he answered. “He may look familiar if you watch the news shows. He’s a United States Senator out of Pennsylvania. He’s always on the political talk shows.”

“You’re kidding me!” she exclaimed. “You have a brother who is a US Senator.”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “Matter-of-fact, many high ranking government officials have ordinary brothers and sisters like myself.”

“I never think of it that way.”

Turning on the stereo to some soft jazz, he treated her to the delicious lunch he had prepared. She loved it and told him so.

After placing the dishes in the dishwasher, it was off to the mall to attend the book signing. On the way back, they stopped in a major video store to rent a movie. They also picked up two soft frozen Icees and a bag of microwave popcorn at a local convenient store. After all, what’s a movie without freshly cooked popcorn? 

The two watched a romantic comedy called
“Serendipity”
starring John Cusack. It was about two people engaged to other people who have a chance encounter in New York, part ways late that evening, then spend the next ten years trying to find one another.