Doreen Malek - Daddy's Choice

He nodded, scribbling. “White or red chowder?” he said.

Carol looked at Tay.

“Red,” he advised. “And I’ll have the same. With the baby vegetables and a bottle of the house chablis.”

The waiter disappeared and Tay selected a breadstick from the basket on the table.

“Do you often forget to eat all day?” he asked Carol, biting into the stick, which snapped under the assault of his teeth.

“Not often. It’s a bad idea when you have low blood sugar. Everything tends to get a little hazy around the edges.”

“I could never forget to eat,” he said, smiling. “My stomach always reminds me.”

“It happens only when I get really preoccupied. I passed out during exams once, right after civil procedure. The instructor was mortified, he thought I had fainted because I was afraid I’d failed the test. I had to tell him that I’d been studying so hard I’d skipped breakfast and lunch.”

“I guess I should be flattered that I’m as much of a distraction as a civil procedure exam,” Tay said lazily.

Carol met his eyes, then looked away.

“What is civil procedure, anyway?”

“Torture. Sheer, maddening torture. It’s all confusing cases and decisions about who can bring a case, where it should be brought, if it has enough merit to be heard, on and on and on. It’s the Waterloo of the first year of law school and everybody dreads it.”

“I’ll bet you got an A,” he said, polishing off his breadstick.

Carol glanced at him, startled.

“Did you?” he said.

She sighed. “Yes.”

He chuckled, the low, throaty sound drifting across the table toward her as the waiter brought their appetizers.

Carol picked up her spoon and Tay watched her reaction as she tasted the soup.

“Very good,” she said.

“Not too spicy?”

“No, it’s fine.”

They ate in silence for a while, and when Carol’s bowl was almost empty he said, “Feeling better?”

“Much.”

“I think you need someone to take care of you,” he said quietly.

“I’m doing just fine,” Carol replied firmly. “Lots of people skip meals, it doesn’t mean they need a keeper.”

He let that pass, pouring them both a glass of wine when the waiter brought the bottle.

“I hope you like this, it’s actually much better than some of the big label stuff,” he said, saluting her with the glass.

Carol sipped hers obediently and nodded.

“Did you spend all your summers down here when you were a kid?” Tay asked, watching her.

“From the time my father bought the house, yes.”

“I don’t remember you,” he said, as if he should.

“A few years is an unbridgeable gulf between kids,” Carol replied.

“But not between adults,” he observed.

The busboy cleared the table and shortly afterward the waiter brought the main course. Tay speared a tiny carrot with a tine of his fork and said, “How do they get these things so small? Are they shrunken or something?”

“Beats me. They must grow that way, like Bonsai trees. The fish is delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe this experience will encourage you to eat regularly. I can’t have you passing out on the sidewalk in front of my construction crew.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that story,” Carol muttered, and he chuckled.

Carol stared at him, riveted in spite of herself, then took another sip of her wine.

“Do you like living at the seashore all year ‘round?” she asked.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, I should think it might be dismal in the winter—gray ocean, gray skies, empty beaches.”

“Spoken like a true summer person,” he said dryly. “Actually, the beach in winter is very nice.”

“If you’re an Eskimo.”

“If you like peace and quiet, as you supposedly do.”

Carol paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. He had scored a point off her without even trying.

“I only meant that the image of a deserted and windswept beach is a lonely one,” Carol said quietly.

“For landscape artists, maybe. But I like the isolation, it helps me to think. When the tourists flood in over the Memorial Day weekend I always want to head for the hills. At least Strathmere is off the beaten path, I could never stand living in one of the big towns that turn into a Mardi Gras every summer.”

“Don’t like the Ferris wheels and coin toss booths, eh?”

“I avoid all amusement parks,” he said. “Have you ever noticed that people do things on vacation they would never do at home?”

“You mean toting around the boardwalk souvenirs, the funny hats and the giant blue teddy bears?” Carol asked.

“And who are the merrymakers? Drunken teenagers in wrecked cars and middle-aged tire salesmen in hula skirts,” he said.

Carol giggled. “You don’t paint a very pretty picture of the summer visitors. I was one of them, you know.”

“I’m sure you weren’t one of the worst. You had a home here and stayed the whole season. The worst of them blow in for a week or two, stay soused the entire time, then leave a trail of litter behind on the beach and a trail of beer cans on the way out of town.”

The waiter approached and said, “Is everything all right?”

“You can take this, I’m done,” Carol said.

“Do you want anything else?” Tay asked.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Coffee, dessert?” the waiter said.

“Just coffee for me,” Carol replied.

Tay nodded in agreement. Carol felt as if she were on a date, with Tay directing the action, even though their meeting had been a coincidence.

“Do you like what you do?” Carol asked as Tay picked up the bottle and tipped it to top off her glass.

Carol covered it. “I have to drive,” she said.

He replaced the bottle in its stand. “Construction?” he said.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I like working with my hands, and it’s very satisfying to see the completed job and know I was responsible for it. I can drive up any street in Strathmere and see how my efforts have improved or redone the old houses, in some cases even saved them from collapsing.”

“I see.”

“Do you feel that way about the law?”

She hesitated before answering. “The law is malleable. It can be a force for good, but it can also be used in negative ways.”

“I guess that means you have to be careful.”

“Yes, it does. You have to be careful about what type of law you practice and which cases you choose.”

Their coffee came, and they sipped it as Tay asked, “Does that mean you won’t be representing any Mafia dons?”

Carol smiled. “It seems unlikely.”

“Embezzling bankers?”

“They can usually afford the experienced, high-priced practitioners. That’s not me.”

“Deserting husbands, deadbeat dads, Wall Street tax evaders?” he suggested.

“I can see you have the same impression of lawyers as you do of summer visitors,” Carol said, laughing.

He shrugged. “Your profession hasn’t been getting very good press for a long time.”

“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean all lawyers are creeps.”

“You certainly don’t look like a creep,” he said mildly.

Carol glanced toward the entrance of the dining room and saw that a line had formed there. She also noticed that the waiter was hovering anxiously.

“I really have enjoyed this, Tay, but I have to go,” Carol said, putting down her cup. “Could you call for the check and then—”

“The check is mine,” he said, interrupting her firmly. “I’ll see you out to your car.”

He settled the bill and they left the restaurant, the soft evening air embracing them as they emerged into it.

“Nice night,” Tay observed, taking Carol’s arm to guide her across the street.