“I’m so happy to be out tonight,” she said, and her fingers brushed mine as if she’d started to take my hand and then thought better of it.
“I’m glad,” I told her. “And your energy is infectious.”
She beamed at me. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been out to dinner. I came to Vermont to hide out at my grandma’s house, but I’m not really much of a recluse, I guess.”
“No,” I said. “You’re a social butterfly. Always have been, always will be.”
“You know what? You and I have never gone out to dinner together before,” she said. “That’s kind of hard to believe.”
“We’d never shared a drink together until this month either,” I reminded her. She’d been my best friend and my first love, but we’d been kids at the time. We’d never known each other as adults, and despite the challenge to my libido, I was glad we were getting the chance now. I stopped in front of the restaurant. “Here we are.”
“Do you want to sit outside?” Phoebe asked, eyeing the outdoor patio, which was contained behind a wooden fence and decorated with a variety of hanging plants and strings of white lights. “It’s so pretty.”
“It sounds perfect,” I told her. Fresh air was my natural element, after all.
The hostess led us to a small table in the back corner of the patio. We didn’t have a good view of Church Street from here, but it was quiet, maybe even romantic…not that we were going for romantic tonight. A pink paper lantern hung above our table, and ivy ran down the brick wall beside it.
“I love it already,” Phoebe said as she sank into the chair opposite me.
I was trying hard not to notice the way the breeze played through her hair as she reached for her menu. “Hope the food’s as good as the ambience.”
“I do too,” she said.
I turned my attention to my own menu, perusing my options. The mushroom ravioli looked good, but it also sounded heavier than I was in the mood for tonight. Our waiter approached the table and introduced himself. Phoebe and I each ordered a beer and a plate of goat cheese with fruit and crackers as an appetizer to share.
“Oh my God,” she said with a happy sigh as she continued to peruse the menu. “All this stuff is local? And it sounds so good. How have you not been here before?”
I shrugged. “I guess I don’t go out to dinner that often.”
“Well, I might drag you into town for a few more dinners before I leave, then,” Phoebe said. “Because I love exploring new places, and you’re basically the only person I know here.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
The waiter returned with our beer and cheese plate. Phoebe ordered a pork chop with various spring vegetables, and I got a seared steak salad. Once he’d gone, she gave me a thoughtful look.
“I have to say, I’m surprised you aren’t a vegetarian, or a vegan even, being such an animal lover.”
“I’m too pragmatic, I guess,” I told her. “I don’t have a problem with humanely sourced meat, but I do try to make sure everything I eat is locally and humanely raised.”
“I respect that,” she said. “I buy mostly organic myself, although local isn’t as practical in Boston as it is here.”
“No judgment from me. We all do what we can.”
“Okay, I’m going in,” she said, eyeing the cheese plate. She picked up a cracker, spread some goat cheese and raspberry sauce on it, and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she gave an appreciative moan. “Mm, Taylor, you have to try this,” she said once she’d swallowed.
I swallowed too, my throat gone dry as I watched her eat. I picked up my beer and took a hearty drink before fixing a cracker for myself. Flavor exploded across my tongue, the tangy cheese perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the fruit. “You’re not wrong. This is amazing.”
“If all the restaurants in Burlington are as good as this one, we’re going to have go out to dinner a bunch of times,” she said, loading up another cracker.
That sounded a lot like we were dating, but I supposed friends could go to dinner too. I wasn’t going to press her on it, not while we were having such a nice evening together. “Oh yeah, who’s going to watch your puppies?”
She looked up. “They’ll get more self-sufficient, right?”
“They will for a little while, but then they take a step backward when they get big enough to eat and poop on their own.”
Phoebe’s nose wrinkled. “Let’s not talk about poop at dinner.”
I laughed. “Fair.”
