Phyllis Halldorson - A Man Worth Marrying

She was saved from having to respond to him by their server, who brought the soup course. By silent but mutual consent, they dropped the subject. They chatted about other things: the food, the weather. Finally she was able to bring the conversation around to his personal history.

“Are you a local boy, Gray?” she asked. “Do your parents live here?”

He sipped the delicious beef-and-barley soup they’d both ordered. “Well, yes and no. I was born and raised here until I left to go to the University of California at Berkeley. After I got my degree, I worked out there for several years, until Dad had a massive heart attack and nearly died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Eve said, thinking of her own beloved father. “Did he—that is, is he all right?”

Gray smiled appreciatively. “Yes, but he had to retire as vice-president of the bank, and he can no longer survive the severe winters here, so he and Mom moved to the Rio Grande Valley in southern Texas. There, all he has to do is sit in his orange grove and pick the fruit off his trees.”

Again they were interrupted, this time by the busboy who cleared the empty soup bowls from their table. He was followed shortly by the server with their salads, and by the time they got to the entrée they were more relaxed and at ease with one another—enough so that they were finally able to discuss the subject that had brought them together.

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