Tables for Two

By Layne and Atonia

Arriving in Coff's right around 9:00, Libby drove to the square where she and March had arranged to meet.  As she parked her little Toyota and got out, she looked around at the shops.  There were some nice ones here.  Maybe a little too nice.  She wasn't sure about the prices.  She did love window shopping, though, so she could do that, if nothing else.
 

There weren't very many people in the square yet this morning, so Libby wandered around and looked in a few windows as she waited for March.  It was while she looking at furniture in one of the windows that she heard footsteps behind her.  In a moment, she saw March's reflection in the window next to her own.
 

“They are a nice looking couple eh?” March smiled at their reflection, “good morning Libby how are you?” He touched lightly in the
middle of her back.

Good morning."  Libby turned around smiling.  "It's good to see  you."

He really did look good in the morning, she thought to herself.  She hadn't seen a time of day yet when he didn't look good.

"I'm great." She answered his question.  "How about you?  Did you have to work late last night?"

“Not to late I’m home by 10:30 I get up this morning and go for a run on the beach and I am happy because I am with you,” he flashed a brilliant smile thinking she looked delicious in the morning.

“Do you like this shop Libby? I must tell you I am not a great shopper, I need something I buy it the first shop I come to.”

She laughed.  "In that case, we should get along really well!  I've never really understood people who can spend all day just wandering

from store to store.  I end up buying whatever I came for in a hurry.  Then, if I have any time left over, I spend it in the bookstores!"

Libby was amazed to find that she and March seemed to really have things in common.  She'd accepted his invitation to dinner the other night simply because she didn't want to just hang around by herself thinking about Dan and what might have been.  She'd thought she and March would just spend a pleasant evening talking and that would be it.

But March was a very attractive man, and she found herself really liking him.  To her surprise, she was actually looking forward to just wandering in and out of a few shops with him.

Looking at the furniture shop they were standing next to, she said, "Well, I need a dining table, so I guess we could start looking here."

March opened the door and followed her in. He was a little out of his element here having never shopped for furniture in his life. He’d been lucky that way whether on his own or with a woman his apartments were always furnished by someone else. He ran a hand through his dark hair and looked around a little lost.

“Where do we start?” he wondered aloud. “Libby, help!”

Libby couldn't help laughing.  He'd always seemed so self-confident, so sure of himself.  Now, he looked like a kid with a homework assignment he had no idea how to complete.  She just had to kid him a little about it.

"You mean, you're a chef?  You cook for people for a living?  Your life is food?  But you never paid any attention to the tables people sit at when they eat it?"  Libby put a comical expression on her face, hoping he would know that she was kidding.

March tried to suppress a smile, “they buy my food not my tables eh? But there are many tables here some very large for dinner parties and some very small for intimate meals for two.” He glanced around the thought of an intimate dinner for two very appealing right now.

“I’m afraid you must choose you know I have not seen your flat so I don’t know how much space you have.” March looked down a row of tables all brand new all smelling new and the thought struck him that he did know something about tables and were he to buy one it would not be new.

“A lot of life goes on around a table it is an important piece of furniture,” he said suddenly serious and then he smiled at Libby.

"See?  You do know something about tables," she told him.  Then, she got serious too.  "Well, my flat isn't going to be seeing any large dinner parties, I'm afraid.  Intimate meals for two?  Maybe."  She dropped her eyes, feeling a little uncomfortable discussing that with him.

"I don't know, though-"  Libby was looking at some of the smaller tables.  "You're right.  A lot of life goes on around a table.  Maybe I need one that's already seen a little life.  We could try an antique shop, or maybe a secondhand shop?  What do you think of that?"

“You read my mind eh? I was just thinking that. I know a place it’s not far but we have to drive. I go there with Andy when he chooses a few pieces for the restaurant dining room. It is very large place I can take you there if you’d like me to?”

"That sounds great!" she told him, enthusiastically.  "My car's right outside."  Libby was really starting to enjoy herself now.  And surprised to find that she was having fun.

As March directed her to the store he studied her profile as she drove, she was very different from the women he was used to and he felt at ease with her there was no pressure to be something he was not.

“You know Libby when I live in Paris I spent many hours at the flea markets, I don’t buy much eh maybe a few small items but I like to wander about and see what is for sale. I found I like things that have a history it is a mystery is it not who owned them, how they used them, where they kept them. I bought a men’s toiletry set once; silver backed brushes and many things I don’t know what they were used for. It was said to belong to a famous writer and I think maybe his creativity will pass to me. It is a silly thing I know but still.” He shrugged.

"It's not silly!" Libby protested.  "I do that kind of thing too.  I'm always buying books secondhand, and I always check to see if there are names written in them.  I'll sit and wonder who read them before, and whether or not they liked the story.  And I love flea markets myself!"

It seemed to be yet another thing they had in common.  That list was getting longer.  Libby found she was smiling happily at March, enjoying talking with him and getting to know him more than she had thought she would. 

"Besides," she told him.  "Maybe his creativity did pass on to you.  Only you express it with cooking rather than with writing?"

“This thing I do with cooking is creative yes but I think it is in me to do this, I grew up in a kitchen so I know food. This I am confident with I know what I can do. Someday I would like to write a book about cooking but I am not there yet…someday maybe.” March looked at her and thought she understood a bit about him and he liked her very much.

"I'd like to write a book someday too," Libby confessed.  "Definitely not about cooking though!  More of an historical novel."

“I think you will do this someday when you are ready ah look we are here there is parking behind the building.” March directed her around to the rear of the large warehouse.

Parking her car, Libby let March lead her into the warehouse.  The huge space was wall to wall with furniture, appliances and various other things for sale.

"I hope you know where to start looking in here," Libby teased March.  "Otherwise, we'll have to take lunch with us, 'cause it could take us days to look at everything in here!"

March laughed, “maybe we never come out eh? Andy took me towards the back, I think on the left there are dining tables because he looked at chairs.” March stretched up looking over the aisles and settled on one. Taking her hand he led her down the aisle toward a selection of tables, chairs, buffets and china cabinets. The chairs seemed to be piled one on top of another but the tables were readily visible.

“Here we are table department,” he smiled and bowed with a flourish.

Libby looked around in awe.  "I've never seen so many tables in one place," she told March.  "I haven't even figured out what kind I really need!"

"Well, I guess-  Let's see.  Nothing too big, or it won't fit in my flat..."  She looked at March questioningly.  "Got any suggestions?"

March was also a little overwhelmed by the assortment of tables of every size and description. He walked through them running his hand over the wood, checking for sturdiness and looking underneath to make sure the patina on the surface was real. He stopped at a couple of tables and looked them over thoroughly. He showed Libby what to look for and to make sure nothing had been repaired with glue.

“You know Libby for me I like this one, it is a rectangle but you see you can pull it out and it can be made larger. I don’t know how much room you have but it could be pushed against a wall. I also like this round one it is small and for two people it would work but for four I don’t know. I think you have to make that decision but the wood is good and they are sturdy.

Libby looked over the two tables.  "I've always liked round tables.  Besides, I don't have that much room.  And I doubt there'll ever be more than two eating at my apartment anyway."

She looked at March thoughtfully for a moment, wondering about inviting him over for dinner once the apartment was all set up.  It'd be a nice thing to do, especially after he'd helped her shop today.  On the other hand, Libby didn't consider herself much of a cook. 

Did she really want to invite a chef to dinner at her own place?  What would she serve him?  Macaroni and cheese?  Maybe she could invite him over and feed him takeout?  At that thought, Libby couldn't help bursting into laughter, which only got louder when she saw March looking quizzically at her.

“What?” he asked, her mirth catching him with a smile beginning on his lips.

Looking at him with an embarrassed little grin, she said, "I was just thinking about the possibility of inviting you for dinner once I actually have a table and chairs.   Then, I remembered that I'm a really lousy cook, and I might have to give you takeout for dinner!"

Libby was still laughing and red in the face.  It was a terrible thing to have to admit to a chef!

March smiled with her, was she inviting him? “Fortunately for you I can cook so if you invite me I will do the honors. Not everyone cooks,” he shrugged in that Italian way he has, “you buy the food and I will prepare it.”

"Deal," Libby told him, relieved.  "And now that it seems I've chosen this table, I'd better get on to picking out some chairs, so we can look for your stuff and still manage to have some lunch!"

While Libby was choosing chairs March wandered an aisle over to see what they had that might fit on his balcony. While he liked the wrought iron pieces he knew they would not hold up by the ocean. He spotted a wicker set painted black, two chairs and the table had a glass top. He looked around for Libby to get her opinion. He was thinking it would be nice, dinner for two on his balcony overlooking the sea, ah but would she go for it?

Having found four chairs to match the table she had chosen, Libby searched for March.  She found him looking at balcony furniture--a nice black wicker set.  It looked elegant.  Watching him for a moment, Libby felt a little down.  He looked elegant too.  The set matched him. 

What am I doing here with him?  I'm not elegant.  I don't fit.  I'm just a plain old American tomboy who chatters too much and is accident-prone.  He needs someone elegant-just like him.  At that moment, he turned and looked at her, smiling.

"What?" she asked him, puzzled by the look in his eyes.

“I too have found a table for two but I have a problem, I have no one to share it with. If they will deliver right away, Libby would you allow me to make a quick lunch for you at my home? It’s very near here.”

His home?  Libby was a little startled.  She'd expected them to have lunch, but in a restaurant, where there were lots of other people.  She wasn't too sure about his apartment.  But she put on a game face and smiled.

"Sure.  I'd love to see it.  But I'm gonna start feeling guilty with you cooking for me all the time."

“Ah never feel guilty when a chef cooks. It is only a salad with chicken that I bring home last night. But the bread I make early this morning.,” He saw the startled look in her eyes, “It will be quick and easy and we can break in my new table and chairs,” he turned once again and looked at them and then back at her.

“Do not worry,” he said softly, “I am domesticated,” a crooked little smile.

"I'm sure you are," Libby answered him, just as softly.