Chapter 14
DELPHINE
Idrove us out of Willet Cove, away from Harbor Avenue and the last of the evening crowd wandering between the shops and restaurants. Soft, slanted sunlight gilded the tops of the cypress trees and laid bright stripes across the road.
The picnic basket was already on the back seat, along with a small cooler and the quilt I’d folded over the top.
Temperatures on the coast could turn chilly once the sun went down.
I’d packed more food than two people needed.
Fried chicken from the deli in town, potato salad, salted chocolate chunk cookies, a wedge of sharp cheese, green apples, strawberries, and a bottle of red Vance had recommended.
I glanced over to find Dorian smiling. “What?” I asked.
“It’s fun to be swept away by a beautiful woman to an unknown location. Will it be dangerous?”
“There’s only one dangerous element to this evening, and that’s you,” I said.
He lifted his hands. “What do you mean? I’m completely harmless.”
I smiled and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “As you charm me once again.”
“I’m just a gentle bookstore owner. Not all that charming.”
“You are. Trust me.”
“I never thought of myself that way, but I’ll take it.”
“You’re sneakily charming. Funny too.”
“Why, thank you. You’re also funny.”
“Not charming?”
“More like mesmerizing.” He rested his cheek against the leather seat, watching me with an expression I could only describe as hungry.
How long ago had I seen that in a man’s eyes?
Since the early days with Jon. He used to want me like that.
Until he didn’t any longer. Or couldn’t.
He’d been sick, I reminded myself. It was not me. A man could like me. A healthy man.
This one certainly seemed to. And God help me, it felt intoxicating.
“Mesmerizing. Like in a creepy, hypnotic way?” A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth. I could still flirt. Wasn’t that a discovery?
He laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just smart and gorgeous and interesting.”
“Let’s go with that.”
A few minutes later, I turned onto a two-lane road just north of town. The pavement narrowed, bordered by overgrown eucalyptus, Monterey pines, and scrub that smelled sharp and dusty in the cooling air. At the end of the road, beyond a freshly painted fence, the old sign came into view.
THE STARLITE DRIVE-IN
The letters were white against deep blue, surrounded by small painted stars. Below it, the marquee read:
GRAND REOPENING JUNE 29TH
“That’s tomorrow.” Dorian leaned forward slightly. “I heard rumors this was reopening. You have no idea how many nights I spent here in high school.”
“Yeah?”
“I thought this place was closed forever.”
“Twenty or so years. I was on the committee to get it reopened.”
“What made you do that?” Dorian asked.
“I love drive-ins. And I thought Willet Cove needed it back.”
“I agree,” Dorian said. “Who owns it now?”
“You won’t believe this. The great grandson of the original owner raised his hand. He had the money for restorations. We promised community support. With the funds we raised, we can sponsor free movie nights or charge five dollars a car.”
“That’s what it was in the old days. We used to stuff six of us in my old Chevy.”
I laughed. “Those are the stories we heard over and over from the locals. Which is why I felt so passionately that we had to make it happen.”
“Nothing creates community like a local drive-in,” Dorian said. “But if it doesn’t open until tomorrow night, then how are we getting in?”
“I made special arrangements. Tonight’s the trial run for the management team. They asked a few of us to be their beta customers.”
I slowed near the ticket booth, a small white structure with blue trim. The new owner’s son greeted us and let us in through the gate and into the lot.
A gravel field sloped gently toward the huge white screen at the far end, newly repaired and painted.
The old speaker posts stood in neat rows, their metal boxes restored until they gleamed.
The concession stand had been revived with striped awnings, warm bulbs, and trim painted the same deep blue as the sign.
“You should have seen what it looked like when we first started the project,” I said. “Fence was broken. Weeds waist-high. The concession building’s roof had collapsed and had to be replaced.”
“It looks better than it ever did,” Dorian said. “You guys killed it.”
“We’re pretty proud. And thank you.” I backed into the spot, planning to open the back of my SUV so we could watch from there. I had blankets and pillows for us. “I thought we could watch from the back.”
“A definite upgrade from my old Chevy and a bunch of stinky guys,” Dorian said.
We got out and climbed into the back. Dorian was only an inch or two taller than me and slim.
Regardless, he made the space seem small and intimate.
Sitting with our backs against the seat, legs crossed, our knees only inches apart, felt like we were in a bed.
I hadn’t really thought that part through. But we were here now. No backing out.
“This has got to be the best second date ever planned,” Dorian said. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome. And don’t worry, I brought dinner. No bad hot dogs for us.”
From the basket, I pulled out all the food and spread it all out on the blanket. Lastly, I filled two stemless glasses with red wine, from a bottle of red I’d been saving for a special occasion.
“I hope you won’t find this date redundant,” I said. “But our picnic was so much fun, I thought we should do it again.”
“I’m more than a little excited about that chicken,” Dorian said. “My mom used to make the best.”
“This is from the deli, but it’s good. And they have good potato salad.”
“I love potato salad,” Dorian said.
“Are you just saying that?”
“I would never joke about picnic food.”
We filled our plates. While we ate, Dorian shared stories about his adventures here as a boy and then a teen. “Had my first kiss right here,” he said. “Sheila Camp.”
“Really? How old were you?”
“Fifteen. She was sixteen. Total cougar.”
I laughed as I tore off a piece of chicken from the breast I’d chosen. “Was it a successful kiss?”
“I’m not sure one would describe it that way, no. She kind of kissed with her mouth clamped shut. There was no getting in there. Kind of like a closed clam shell. I would have needed a special tool to pry it open.”
“So you just pressed your mouths against each other? I don’t know if that counts.”
“It was lip to lip contact,” Dorian said. “Which meant it counted to my buddies and me.”
I stacked a piece of cheese onto an apple slice and handed it to him. “Try this.”
He popped it in his mouth. “Excellent pairing.”
“Like us?”
“Ms. Delacroix, are you flirting with me?”
“I’m just hoping to get one of those clam shell kisses later.”
He chuckled, and leaned closer. “I could give you one now, if you don’t mind the taste of lingering cheddar.”
“I guess that would be okay.”
He kissed me, and there was no need for any additional effort on his part. My lips opened just fine. And I kissed him back, as if I’d been born to do so. He did taste of cheddar, and I didn’t mind at all.
“I’d say you’ve improved since the clam shell kiss,” I said.
“Let’s hope so.” He leaned back, peering at me in the dim light. “What about you? First kiss?”
“Well, technically it was when I was thirteen, but that was an accident.”
“Accident?”
“I didn’t know what happened in the closet,” I said.
“Wait? What?” His tone turned to concern. “Did someone force you?”
“Not exactly forced, no. It was a game of truth or dare. Melanie Smith’s thirteenth birthday party.
There were boys there, obviously. It was Robert Sykes’ turn and he chose a dare, which was to take the girl of his choice into the closet.
He chose me. Which kind of thrilled me a little.
I was beyond nerdy at that age. Bad haircut.
Braces on my teeth. Not exactly the popular girl type.
And like I said, I had no idea what it meant if you and a boy were sent into the closet.
So there I was, standing in the dark—couldn’t see a thing—and all of the sudden I feel this wet mouth on mine and his tongue trying to poke its way through.
Unlike your first, I didn’t know to keep my mouth closed and he got in there.
He tasted like cherry soda, which wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
Regardless, I screamed and practically knocked him over as I burst through the door.
Everyone was still in the circle, only now they were staring at me. ”
“You poor thing. Were you all right?”
The concern in his tone touched me. “I was fine. Mad and embarrassed, but I shrugged it off like it was nothing. The way kids do. But I went home after that. I had to walk because my mother was always drunk by eight.”
“Was it far?”
“No, just a mile to the trailer park where we lived. Melanie lived in town, two blocks from the middle school.”
“Where was this?” Dorian asked.
“A small, rural town not far from Fresno,” I said. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there. That was all I thought about in those days. I got a scholarship to art school in San Francisco. I left and never went back.”
“Did your town have a drive-in?”
“No drive-in. Maybe that’s why I find them so romantic.”
He was quiet for a moment. I could almost hear his mind putting all of this together. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“Thank you. I’m tough, that’s all.”
“It took grit to get out of there, especially given your mother. When did you know art was your passion?”