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Chapter Six
Lake
The Porsche was just as obnoxious as I’d expected. It wasn’t just yellow. It was YELLOW. Like a sunflower on wheels. At least traveling inside it, I hadn’t had to look at it. However, to my surprise, the Porsche’s owner, Glenn, was nice. And not nice in a boring way, but genuinely good-company nice.
I watched him as he toyed with the stem of his wineglass while we waited for dessert, something obviously on his mind. “I didn’t think you’d agree to go out with me,” he eventually blurted.
“Oh?”
“I know you prefer…” He gave an embarrassed little smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Erm... younger men.”
“I’m assuming Verity told you that?” It was typical of Verity to set me up on a date and then unwittingly sabotage it before it got off the ground.
“She said you don’t always have the best luck with men, that you could do with someone more mature, more… grounded.”
I made a noise that was neither confirmation nor denial.
“I’d definitely describe myself as grounded,” Glenn said. “But I can’t make myself younger, I’m afraid. Unless I have plastic surgery. Although I suppose that’s not making yourself younger, it’s just making yourself look younger.”
“You don’t need to have plastic surgery.” He didn’t. No word of a lie there. His hair going slightly gray at the temples was the only real telltale sign of him being older than I was. He could definitely pass for mid-thirties rather than his mid-forties.
Glenn smiled and held his glass up in a toast. “Glad to hear it. I’ll ring the plastic surgeon tomorrow and cancel the procedures.”
I laughed. “Procedures, plural?”
“Oh, yes!” His eyes twinkled attractively. “Face lift. Lip fillers. New teeth. Brazilian butt lift, of course.”
I choked on my drink. “Of course. Although, is it still a Brazilian butt lift if you don’t go to Brazil for it?”
Glenn tipped his head to one side to think about it. “That’s a question for the ages, isn’t it? I should probably find out before I get one. Imagine how embarrassing it will be if I don’t know what to call it?”
“Are you planning on talking about it a lot?”
“All the time. Got to get your money’s worth out of these things. I wonder if my trousers will still fit or if I’ll have to get a whole new wardrobe?” He sobered before I could offer a response. “Of course, the actual issue is my occupation. Men tend to run a mile when they find out what I do.”
“The world needs undertakers,” I said earnestly. “Without you, we’d be tripping over bodies.”
“It doesn’t bother you then?”
His expression might have been carefully neutral, but his stillness gave away how important he considered the answer. For that reason, I wanted to be honest. “I’m a historian. I spend most of my day researching, writing, or talking about people who are long dead. I’m fine with death.” Glenn’s slow nod made me want to bring a bit of levity back to the conversation. “As long as you don’t bring your work home.”
His lips twitched. “They’re silent. They just sit there.”
I shook my head. “It might be the twisted sense of humor that makes men run a mile.”
“But not you?”
“I might have a slightly twisted sense of humor myself.” We paused the conversation as the waiter arrived with dessert: ice cream for me and tiramisu for Glenn. If we shared a kiss at the end of the date, it would make him taste of coffee. The thought made me want to test out that theory. “Of course, it could also be the car that makes men run away.”
Glenn clasped a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “What’s wrong with my car?”
“The color.”
He sat up straighter in his chair, the tiramisu as yet untouched. “Do you know what color my life is?”
I frowned at the question, never having considered a person’s life as having a color. Thankfully, Glenn helped me out before I had to hazard a guess. “Black. The hearse is black. The mourners wear black for ninety-five percent of funerals. My suit is black because it’s expected as a show of respect. You could perhaps throw in a bit of white, if you include lilies and candles.”
He sat back in his chair. “So sometimes I crave color in my life. And when I saw that car, it fit the bill perfectly. Don’t get me wrong. I love my job and I’m good at it. But that car makes me smile every time I see it, because it’s just so goddamn bright and cheerful. It probably sounds bizarre.”
