Page 36 of Little Etheldreda Riding Hood

He takes my hand and leads me to his dining table. Waving his arm in a grand gesture as if he’s a magician that’s just pulled a rabbit out of his hat, he motions toward the table. “Tonight, we eat,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “at the table.”

“Oooo, you even cleaned off all the mail for me,” I tease. The once cluttered surface is now empty of everything that lived there before. He has two places set and candles ready to be lit.

“Okay, I’ll give you this one. This is kinda date-like.”

He grins. “See? Give me a second and I’ll have dinner on the table.”

I huff a laugh as he pulls out a chair for me. I sit while he disappears into the kitchen. Dolly takes it as her cue to jump in my lap and I spend the next few minutes rubbing her back as black fur sheds all over my lap. I guess spring is coming, despite the weather. She curls up in a ball and closes her eyes until Zach comes in with salad on small plates.

“My mama had these plates when I was growing up,” I say, taking the thin white plate with blue designs along the outer edges.

He chuckles. “Yeah, when I moved out, I got all the mismatched plates and Mama bought new ones. I hope Caesar salad is acceptable?”

“One of my absolute favorites.”

He grabs Dolly off my lap, who nips at him, and puts her in the room with her babies, shutting her in.

“I would rush into a burning building for her, but I did not spend half the afternoon working on dinner for her to con you out of half of it.”

I laugh and dig into my plate. He brings out steaks and sautéed broccoli next, followed by a dessert of lemon meringue pie. “You bake?” I ask, totally impressed.

“Okay, I have to come clean. I made dinner, but I talked my mama into making the pie. She makes the best lemon meringue pie in the state.”

“In the state?” I ask.

“She won an award at the state fair when I was little for it.”

“You made your mother make an award winning pie for our date? Was she annoyed?”

“There’s five of us boys…making a pie is the least annoying thing she has to deal with.”

“Five?”

“Yes, we’re all fifteen months apart, except for Zane…He was a…happy surprise, as Mama calls him.”

“Holy God, your poor mother.”

Zach laughs, “Yeah, the day I realized what that meant was awkward.”

That makes me laugh. We eat dessert, then, despite his protests, I help him with the dishes.

“Okay, so meal, check. What is this shared experience?”

He takes a bottle of wine from the fridge. “I know you’re not much of a drinker, but Randy ordered this for the bar, and it’s amazing. I thought it’d work well with our next activity.”

In the living room, he pushes the coffee table to the side and sets the bottle and glasses down on top. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

He comes back into the room with a plastic shopping bag from a craft store and starts taking out paints, brushes, and canvases. He sits down next to the table, so I join him, awkwardly, pulling my legs underneath me. “What’s this?”

“Well, there really aren’t any date night activities that don’t require a drive into the city, so I thought we’d do our own version here.”

“But what are we doing?”

“You know,” he says, “that thing ladies do with their girlfriends and drag their husbands to. They paint and drink wine.”

I snicker. “A sip and paint?”

“Yes. Sorry, I was working on short notice.”

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