She hit my arm and I pretended to be in pain. It was great to feel like I was in second grade again.
For a time, Palm Springs was known as a place for the newly wed and the nearly dead, but nowadays the oasis in the desert is home to a diverse population. As we entered the city I followed the directions I had been given and surprised myself by not getting lost.
Before decamping from the car, I opened some windows and poured some water. “I hope you don’t mind,” I said to Lisbet, taking the box of dog biscuits from her and pulling out two more to give to Sirius.
“Are you planning on holding that over me?”
“For a long, long time,” I said.
Instead of objecting, she smiled.
The Europa Restaurant was located in the middle of the Villa Royale Inn. Fountains gurgled and planters spilled over with flowers. Trellised bougainvillea was everywhere. Overhead, the night sky was thick with stars that looked almost close enough to touch, and in the distance the shadow of Mount San Jacinto appeared as an impressive backdrop to the property. As we walked by a pool with glimmering lights, it almost felt as if we were in some villa in the Mediterranean.
At our approach the hostess looked up from her stand, and for just an instant her welcoming smile faltered at the double whammy of my scarred and bruised face before regaining its full wattage. She asked whether we had reservations, and I said, “Yes, Donner, party of two.”
Lisbet nudged me, and I gave my real name. The hostess rewarded my honesty by seating us near a glowing fireplace. For once, I didn’t worry about fire. The heat from the fire offered comforting warmth, and in Lisbet’s company I could forget all the bad things that had happened to me in the past twenty-four hours.
I ordered the rack of lamb with the tapenade of dates, and Lisbet had the salmon in parchment with wild mushrooms drizzled with creme fraiche and sprinkled with dill. The food was wonderful, but even if I’d been served MRE rations, I would have been mightily pleased. This wasn’t a date where I was going through the motions and was out with someone because I was supposed to be getting on with my life; I was where I wanted to be and Lisbet seemed to be enjoying my company as much as I was hers.
Our server came around, and although there wasn’t much left on our plates, both of us asked for a doggy bag. “I told Sirius that he’d be getting a treat tonight. That usually means a stop at In-N-Out Burger and a Flying Dutchman cooked rare.”
“I’m no stranger to In-N-Out,” she said, “but I’m not familiar with a Flying Dutchman.”
“It’s two meat patties and two slices of cheese with no bun, but you won’t find it on the In-N-Out menu. They have a secret menu, even though I think half of southern California is in on the secret. All the employees know the code words. They never blink when I order my burgers animal style, which means I want the patties cooked in mustard.”
“How come I don’t know about this secret menu?”
“You haven’t been hanging around with the right people.”
“Or the wrong people?”
“I resemble that remark.”
The warmth from the fire made me too comfortable; my grin turned into a yawn. “Excuse me,” I said.
“After what happened to you last night, you probably shouldn’t even be out.”
“After what happened to me last night, this is the best medicine I can think of.”
“Any leads on those men that attacked you?”
I opened my mouth to tell her about my morning in the Bay Area but then decided not to talk about it. Ellis Haines wasn’t going to spoil my evening. I shook my head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” I said.
Her face told me she knew I was being evasive. “Someone once told me that when you’re in the presence of a real friend, you can think aloud.”
“It’s hard enough for me to think in silence.”
Lisbet offered only a hint of a smile, prompting me to say, “I think there’s a lot of truth in that saying. I used to think aloud with my wife.”
“What was her name?”
“I never settled on just one. In the course of a minute I could call her Jenny, Jen, or Jennifer.”
“Do you mind my asking how she died?”
“I don’t mind, even though most people think the answer is anticlimactic. She died of the flu.”
In a voice that was little more than a whisper, I repeated an old rhyme: “I had a little bird and its name was Enza, I opened the window and in flew Enza.” In a normal voice I continued, “Out of the mouths of babes, you know. That rhyme was popular with children during the Spanish influenza pandemic. There was a ghoulish quality to those words, because around the world forty million people were dying from the flu, and they weren’t mostly the old and young but healthy adults between the ages of twenty and forty.
“We’ve forgotten that, of course. People usually do a double take when I tell them my wife died of complications from the flu. Nowadays, the flu isn’t supposed to be fatal to a healthy and athletic twenty-nine-year-old woman. It was probably that thinking which killed Jen. Even though she was sick, she kept pushing herself. Instead of bed rest and fluids, she dragged herself into work. She downplayed her symptoms. What she called a chest cold was actually pneumonia; what she described as a little fever turned out to be a dangerously high temperature. I shouldn’t have let her keep reassuring me that she was all right when I knew she was sick, and I shouldn’t have let her keep working. By the time I talked her into going to the hospital, her system was already in meltdown.”
“I am sorry.”
There was a moment of contemplative silence, but it was broken by the server who swooped in to ask, “Can I interest the two of you in some dessert tonight?”
Lisbet was about to decline the offer, but I said, “When it comes to dessert, my mom always quotes Erma Bombeck: ‘Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic that waved off the dessert cart.’”
Because Lisbet didn’t look quite won over, I added, “What happened to those thirty-two sweet teeth you told me about?”
“I suppose it is only right to remember the Titanic,” Lisbet said. She turned to the waitress and asked, “What do you suggest?”
“The chocolate mousse is heavenly.”
There was a meeting of raised eyebrows, and then I said, “Heaven can’t wait. We’ll take two mice.”
Later, as the two of us were searching with our spoons for any speck of mousse that we might have missed, I said, “I’m doing this for Sirius, you know. Chocolate is not good for dogs, so the mousse can’t be part of his doggy bag.”
“No sacrifice too big,” Lisbet said, patting her hips. “But I am thinking that you really should get him that Flying Dutchman.”
“I might even get him a three by three.”
“Is that more secret menu talk?”
I nodded. “Three meat patties, three slices of cheese.”
“Do you order with some kind of Masonic handshake?”
“That’s not necessary, but they’ll give you free fries if you drive up to the takeout window in a Shriners car and shake your fez in the prescribed manner.”
“Who could resist a man in a fez?”
“It’s the tassel.”
“Be still my heart.”
The waitress brought the check and our doggy bags. Lisbet said, “Can I…,” and I raised a hand.
“You cannot.”
“Next time is my treat, then.”
I liked the sound of the words “next time.”
She asked, “If I give you my doggy bag, can you be trusted to pass on the salmon to Sirius?”
“Scout’s honor,” I said, holding up my index and middle fingers in a V sign, “but I should mention that I was never a Scout.”
“Sirius will tell me whether you made good on your promise or not.”
“The salmon’s a bribe, I think. You’re trying to get him to forgive you for eating his dog biscuits.”