He gently touched her hand. Momentarily, he became transfixed by the contrast—his large and hers small. “I was beginning to wonder if you were standing me up.” His grin hinted toward levity. “But since I could see you across the room, I hoped I might still have a chance at friendly conversation.” Claire’s exhale and upturned lips told him she was relieved. Was it because he was still waiting or merely that her shift was complete? “Perhaps we could have a glass of wine, and you could enjoy sitting instead of standing.”
“I believe that would be very nice.” Anthony poured the wine and noticed Claire’s expression relax. The transformation occurring before him was from bartender into the real Claire Nichols. He watched as she took the glass, placed her lips on the rim, closed her eyes, and relished the thick red liquid on her tongue. Anthony fought the urge to think too much about her actions.
“So what’s a classy girl like you doing waiting on stooges like us?” Anthony’s rich voice refocused Claire’s attention. Her eyes twinkled with emerald lights as she turned to face him.
“Why, Anthony, I do believe that self-deprecating statement was a compliment to me in a way.” Her tone held that Southern accent that was far from her native Indiana cadence. He only arched his eyebrows, waiting patiently for an answer. Claire shook her head and fell into his charm. “I’m an out-of-work meteorologist. My news station was bought about a year ago. In their infinite wisdom, they decided I was no longer needed, so this,” she said as she glided her free hand open above the table “is my new glamorous life. Don’t knock it. It pays my student loans as well as multiple other bills.”
His laughter was deep and nonjudgmental. “Wouldn’t you rather be doing the weather thing than this?”
“Of course, but honestly, this isn’t so bad. I have some great friends here. There is always something going on, and I meet nice people like you.” Claire took another sip of the wine and leaned a little closer. “So that’s my story in a nutshell. Sir, it is your turn. You said you are here on business. What kind of business do you do?’
“I am actually involved in many businesses. I came to Atlanta for an acquisition, and some associates convinced me to come here to your esteemed establishment to try the world-famous fried green tomatoes.”
“Oh, they did. Did you?”
Anthony nodded. “Yes, I did.”
Claire’s snicker caused her to look down into her glass. “Did you like them?”
He likewise looked into his glass. “No, I don’t believe I am destined for Georgian cuisine.” Claire’s laugh made him look up. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because I think they are awful! Every time someone orders them, I want to whisper, ‘No, don’t do it.’ It is just that they are so . . .”
“Slimy?” They both said together and laughed. The conversation progressed effortlessly. She asked about his acquisition. Would his trip be successful? Anthony was honestly surprised at her depth and knowledge. It was a shame that her news station had not kept her on. She deserved so much better than tending bar. Of course, that was what he told her. They discussed her career opportunities. Since Anthony was involved in multiple endeavors, he offered the possibility of assistance with more profitable employment. Claire thanked him for his offer, but doubted his ability or desire to truly assist her.
“You know, your destiny could be as simple as an offer and a signature away.” He channeled every deal he ever made, which would be more than he could count or recall. Placing a napkin on the table, he drew her attention to the center design. “Just imagine if instead of the swirly lettering saying ‘Red Wing’ it was blocked and read ‘Weather Channel.’”
The bottle of cabernet sauvignon was almost empty. Claire closed her eyes and did as Anthony said, she imagined. Exhaling audibly, she said, “That would be wonderful. It would be the offer a meteorologist dreams about.”
Closing in on the deal, he said, “Well, Claire, if this napkin were that contract”—
he reached for a pen in his breast pocket and wrote at the top of the napkin “Job Contract”—“would you be willing to sign? Would you really give this all up for a job offer?”
She didn’t blink. “In a heartbeat!” Removing the pen from Anthony’s hand, she signed “Claire Nichols” next to the bar’s insignia.
About midnight, Claire thanked Anthony for the lovely company and explained that she was very tired from her long day and needed to get home. “I will be in town for a few more days. Perhaps I could call you for dinner? It isn’t proper to offer a lady alcohol and no food.”
“Thank you. I’m honored, but I believe I will chuck this up to my brush with an amazing gentleman and go on with my glamorous existence. I fear that the Weather Channel will not be contacting me anytime soon.”