They walked the few blocks to Grill 23, where Lorenzo ate once a month when he needed meat, which he guiltily loved, though he otherwise kept his diet to chicken, eggs, tofu, and fish for protein.
“Very nice to see you again, Dr. Santini,” said Mateo, the maître d’. “Good evening, miss. May I store those bags for you?”
“Thank you,” Lorenzo said, handing them over. Mateo then led them to a table overlooking the street, handed them the wine list and menus, and told them to enjoy their dinners.
“You’re a regular here, I take it?” Winnie asked, opening the menu. Her eyes widened. Hazel, he noted. Greenish-grayish-goldish. “Oof,” she said softly. Yes. The prices were steep, but the food was well worth it.
“I’m paying, of course. This is a business dinner.” He already knew what he was having—tomahawk dry-aged steak, baked potato (hold the sour cream and butter) and Brussels sprouts (hold the parmesan). A glass of California cabernet sauvignon.
When the waiter came by, Winnie ordered the roast chicken and a glass of pinot grigio, which made Lorenzo cringe inside. It was more like grape juice than actual wine.
“You can order whatever you want,” he said as the waiter left.
“I did,” she said.
“Both of those things are the least expensive things on the menu.”
“I like roast chicken.”
He remembered how much Lark had loved to order when she’d been his companion the summer his sister got married. Granted, she’d been a starving resident then, but she’d also enjoyed running up the tab.
“Are you close with your sisters?” he asked.
“I am. And Robbie, too. He and I shared a room for years. Are you close with yours?”
He considered the question. “Somewhat. Sofia and I get along easily. She’s closest in age to me. Isabella is a nurse, so we have some professional things in common.” Not many, he thought, still irked years later that Izzy hadn’t accepted his offer to pay for medical school. “Dante and I are getting closer, now that he’s settled down. He comes by from time to time.”
“That’s nice.” She sipped some water and looked at the flowers on the table, touching one petal.
What was nice, he thought, was having a conversation with someone who wasn’t digging for more answers. Another difference from Lark.
“Do you have a partner, Winnie?” he asked. “Someone who minds you leaving for days at a time?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t.” Her cheeks flushed again, a less pretty shade this time, indicating that her sympathetic nervous system had been triggered more dramatically than when he’d complimented her in the store. The vasodilation released erythrocytes subcutaneously on the face, which had more capillary loops than anywhere else in the body. Such increased blood flow would aid in a fight-or-flight situation.
Interesting.
“I did have someone,” she said abruptly. “We broke up.”
“Recently?”
“Yes.”
He paused. This was his brother’s wife’s sister, so he supposed he should say something kind. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“God, no.”
Again, appreciation flared. The server arrived with their wine, and Winnie took a healthy slug.
Over dinner, Lorenzo outlined what he wanted her to do at the conference, which was essentially make sure that everything ran smoothly. “People tend to want my time,” he said. “I don’t have a lot to give.”
“Be your Rottweiler. Got it.”
He almost smiled. “Yes. Also, I never trust the technical staff at these things,” he said. “Do you know how to connect a PowerPoint presentation to a screen?”
“I do,” she said.
“And how do you know that?”
