The Pieces We Keep(41)

She shook her head at him. “You do realize this is a pitiful approach, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a shrug. “But if it made you smile, it was worth coming off like a heel.”

Vivian would have taken this for the continuation of a practiced pickup if not for the sincerity in his voice, the kind gleam in his greenish-brown eyes. Maybe he didn’t deserve the coldest of shoulders. Besides, they were seated at separate tables, affording a buffer of comfort.

“Food sure is great here, don’t you think?” He lifted the Danish from his small plate and took a generous bite.

“I enjoy it.”

“So, Vivian,” he said, after swallowing, “you from this area?” The pastry had stamped him with a yellow mustache that flitted when he spoke. “Or are you just in the Big Apple visiting?”

She tried to keep a straight face, yet found it impossible. “You have ... some crumbs. Right here.” She brushed her own lip to illustrate.

He snatched his napkin and cleaned off the flakes. “Better?”

She nodded.

His eyes lowered, as if shielded by embarrassment. She was only trying to help but somehow wound up the one who felt like a heel. And now she was stuck, forced to soften a conversation she had hoped to avert.

“I ... take it you’re stationed in the area,” she said.

“Just across the river, at Fort Dix.” He wiped his chin to be thorough and wadded the napkin. “Lucked out actually. I’m from Michigan-that’s where my whole family is, back in Flint-but I got some friends from around here. It was nice to already know people in such a big city.”

“Sure. I know how that can be.”

He crossed his legs, confidence returning. Beneath his dark, close-cropped hair, he had a pleasing oval face and the kind of smile any dentist would gladly take credit for.

“You know,” he said, “my buddy Walt and I, we were planning to hit the town Friday. Maybe go to the USO over by Times Square. His girl, Carol, is wild about swing bands.”

“Oh?” She knew of the place, mainly from her roommate, who welcomed any opportunity to dance. Vivian had yet to go, despite Luanne’s urgings; an evening of laundering socks had more appeal than a hall packed with servicemen in heat.

“How ’bout it?” he asked.

“How about ... ?”

“Golly, you sure don’t make it easy on a guy, do ya?” he teased. “About going out with me? Making it a double date?”

How dim-witted of her. Of course. A date.

They were strangers, though.

As she mulled it over, a flutter formed in her stomach. She barely recognized the sensation. Could she really accept? He seemed like a keen fellow. Luanne might even be willing to come, for both safety and decency.

Vivian straightened in her chair, invigorated by the offer, just as Isaak’s image barged into her thoughts, and with it a feeling of betrayal.

“I—I can’t.”

“All right,” Ian said. “Then how about Saturday?”

She shook her head.

“Sunday?”

“I’d love to, but ... I’m engaged.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize.” Ian glanced toward her hands resting on the table. Too late she recalled the absence of a ring. She curled her fingers under, yet already it was clear: He viewed the decline as a brush-off.

“Well, I’d say he’s one lucky man.”

She sought a way to explain. The engagement wasn’t formal, but a promise had been made, without expiration.

Ian rose from his chair. “Guess I better shove off. Hate to sit around goldbricking all day.” He gave her a smaller version of his perfect white smile and tossed a crinkled dollar next to his plate. “It was real nice talking to you, Vivian.”

“Likewise.”

When he started away, she focused on her magazine to avoid watching him leave.

Her beloved sanctuary suddenly felt isolated rather than secluded.

“Bonjour, chérie.” The manager of the cafe seemed to magically appear. He wore his signature gray vest, loose on his aging frame, and a pin-striped bow tie. “You are enjoying your coffee, yes?”

“It’s splendid. Thank you, Mr. Bisset.”

He began to clear the soldier’s table, his usual waitress out with a cold. “You have the day off, I see.”

With the way she was feeling, she wished that were so. “Not today,” she said, before it dawned on her why he would assume as much. She glanced at her watch. “Oh, criminy! I’ll never make the bus.” With operators to deliver to two other locations, the chartered bus waited for no single person.

Vivian gathered her belongings and jumped to her feet before remembering she hadn’t paid. She fumbled through her purse for change.