Chapter Forty-One Sassy
forty-one SASSY
Sassy got out of Tom’s car and stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at the white-brick building with its black shutters and small burgundy awning. A hanging sign above welcomed them to Barberian’s Steak House, Est. 1959.
“I’ve seen this place so many times, and I’ve always wondered what it was like inside.”
“I’ve only been once,” Tom admitted, opening the front door for her. “With my parents, almost ten years ago. It was their forty-fifth wedding anniversary. Harry Barberian was a friend of my dad’s. Now, there’s a man who knows how to cook. I think you’re gonna like this.”
She inhaled as they walked in, and her mouth watered with the promise of perfectly grilled beef, fresh fried onions, baked potatoes, and garlic. Caesar salad, maybe? She smiled up at Tom, pleased with herself. She’d told him a date demanded delicious food, and he had delivered. She had rewarded him by looking fabulous, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
She’d bought a pretty dress for the occasion, mindful of Marion’s three Cs: Keep it classy, comfortable, and complementary. Knowing it would match her eyes perfectly, Sassy had chosen an emerald-green dress with black polka dots, cap sleeves, and a matching belt, cut just above her knees. Earlier that afternoon, she’d rolled up her long chestnut hair then teased out every curl and tied half of it back so the big curls crowded around her shoulders. She decided to have a little fun with her makeup, too. Except for at the fundraising concert, Tom had mostly seen her face au naturel, so she picked up a copy of Vogue to copy the latest style. She started with white eyeshadow, brushed all the way to the edge of her eyebrows, then she blended a line of brown around the little dip that outlined her eye, since she’d read that made women’s eyes look deeper set and bigger. She painted a careful black line at the base of her top and bottom lashes, extending into a gentle cat’s eye, then she stuck on a set of false eyelashes she’d picked up at Eaton’s. Lots of mascara to bind it all together, a smack of lipstick, and she was, well, she was spectacular, if she did say so herself.
The ma?tre d’ showed them to a corner table with a perfectly white tablecloth and a little candle burning in the centre. The silverware practically sparkled, picking up the candlelight. As Tom pushed in her chair, she smiled up at him from under her lashes. Gosh, he was handsome.
“I’m so glad you don’t dress like that every day,” he said, shocking her.
“What? You don’t like it?”
That little curl at the side of his mouth lifted. “I’d never get any work done.”
Reassured, she laid her napkin on her lap. That’s how she felt about him, too. Despite all the time they’d spent together, she wasn’t the least bit tired of him. He was reading her better, too, knowing when to give and take when it came to her temper, and she was settling down, adjusting to proper behaviour in the workplace and out.
Settling down . She gazed across the table at him, wondering. She’d sworn she’d never get married. But that was a long time ago, before she’d grown up. Before he’d come along.
“I know you like white wine,” Tom said, “but this place has the greatest wine cellar, and considering it’s a steak house—”
“Red it is,” she said, beaming up at the waiter. “You pick, Tom.”
After the bottle arrived and the wine was poured into the glasses, Tom lifted his and looked directly at her.
“Here’s to you,” he said. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”
They both took a sip, never looking away.
“And you look dashing.” She tipped her head to the side and eyed him coyly. “I have a question. Aren’t I a little young for you? I mean, you’re, like… old.”
“I like the immaturity,” he said, straight-faced. “Keeps me young.”
Trying to hide her smile, she sipped her wine and appreciated the flavours playing on her tongue.
“What do you think?”
“It’s very good. I don’t know red very well. Tell me what I’m supposed to taste.”
“It’s a pinot noir. Great with steak. Can you taste a little sweetness? A little cherry or raspberry?”
“Hmm. I think so.” She tasted it again. “And there’s something kind of… earthy?”
“Excellent palate, Sassy. I’m impressed.”
They placed their orders—both of them medium rare—then sat back and regarded each other.
“What should we talk about?” she asked.
“Lots going on. Depends where we want to start.”
“Marion’s in Vietnam,” she said, pulling an expression of disbelief. “Seems like a good starting point.”
They spoke of many things over dinner, and though there were moments where they both paused to reflect, most of the night was filled with engaging conversation and building with a growing intimacy. When dinner was done, he wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin.
“Let’s talk houses,” Tom said, sitting back in his chair. He was relaxed from the wine and the meal, his gaze soft with satisfaction.
Sassy sat back as well. “Ah. Business talk. What about them?”
“Tell me about the market right now. I love listening to how your mind works.”
She glowed with the compliment. “Let’s see. The average home price in this city is about twenty-four thousand dollars, and it’s going up. I know you recently sold a three-storey in Moore Park for forty-two thousand. Congratulations.”
He smiled and sipped, enjoying their second bottle. “You noticed. The buyers are in their early forties. They’ve moved around a lot, and they wanted something bigger this time. Their last place was in Cabbagetown. What do you think of the choice?”
“Dad always said the biggest consideration when you’re buying a home is the neighbourhood. I’d say this was a step up for them. Lots of room for grandchildren.” She felt a little tug on her heart and dropped her chin. “I think I’m going to keep Dad’s house,” she said softly. “It needs to be there for Joey when he’s back.”
“I think that’s a practical move.” He grinned. “Did you hear that? I just called you practical.”
She laughed. “But… oh, you’re going to think I’m silly.”
“Probably. Try me.”
She exhaled. “I don’t want to leave my apartment. I love it there. I love everyone on my floor, pretty much,” she mused. “How can I leave the Romanos, the Levins, the Moores? I can’t imagine not having them around whenever I need a cup of sugar or a new plant, or just company. And what am I supposed to do about Marion? I can’t live miles away from her. Then there’s Mr. Snoop, the guy who always has to see who’s coming out of the elevator. I definitely need him in my life.”
“Another thing I remember your dad saying was that you should never make a major decision, like buying a house, when you’re emotional. It’s like buying groceries when you’re hungry. You can easily make the wrong decision. You don’t have to rush, Sassy. Take your time.” He paused. “I do hope you won’t quit working just because you’re independently wealthy now. Travel around the world, hit all the coolest spots, never come back…”
“I’m not going to quit. I’m going to let you teach me, and I’m going to teach you, too.”
His smile warmed. “Yeah? I bet you have a lot to teach.”
“Practical, remember?”
“I do. My practical Sassy.”
Mine.
“Besides,” she said, folding her napkin and setting it aside. “I don’t think I want to travel around the world. Not yet, anyway, and not by myself. Maybe someday, I’ll do it with you.”