When it was our turn, Simon ordered for both of us. Two steaks, cheese, onions, mushrooms, with both sweet and hot peppers on the side. And the funniest thing happened. When he ordered? This accent came out of nowhere. I’d never heard it before. Not New York or New Jersey; this was very specific. As I listened to everyone around me, they all had it. Some thicker than others, and Simon’s was fairly light, but it had definitely popped up. Huh.
Grabbing a handful of napkins, he spied a family leaving one of the tables and was able to nab it. Leaving me with the table, he went back up for the sandwiches. I’d seen Simon order from a man with ten baskets of spring rolls on his head in Saigon. I’d seen him order sausages from a giant woman in an apron in Salzburg. And nowhere had I ever seen him more at home than he was in this sandwich shop in suburban Philadelphia.
With a wide grin, he returned to the table. He showed me how to spread out the paper to catch the drips, added salt and pepper, then how to hold it so it didn’t spill out over the sides. Then he bit down, and pure bliss came over his face. And he made a sound I’d only ever heard him make once. And he was very happy when he made it.
? ? ?
“Simon Parker?” a voice said from behind, and he turned with a mouthful of cheesesteak. He quickly swallowed, and stood. An older woman with a sleek silver chignon and a strand of pearls that could choke a horse was looking at him in amazement.
“Mrs. White?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.
“Oh my goodness, it is you! I never thought we’d see you around here again!” She pulled him into a hug. “Where in the world have you been? Last I heard, you were off to Stanford.”
“Yes, ma’am, and I’m still out on the West Coast—San Francisco, actually. How are you, how’s the family?”
“Oh fine, fine! Todd’s with the firm now and practicing corporate law. He’s married, with their first little one on the way, and Kitty just got married last summer, and— You must be here for the reunion; I just can’t believe it’s you!” she said again, hugging him tight. He rocked forward on his feet, off balance, while I looked on, grinning.
She spied me over his shoulder, and looked me up and down with shrewd interest. “And who might this be, Simon?”
He ran his hand through his hair nervously again. “This is Caroline Reynolds. Caroline, this was our neighbor from next door, Mrs. White.” He patted me on the shoulder so hard that I almost took a nosedive into what remained of my cheesesteak. Which was basically just a grease stain.
I reached a hand out to her. “Mrs. White, it’s lovely to meet you. You must be the one to go to for stories about how much trouble Simon used to get into, am I right?”
“I remember everything, Caroline—my mind is like a steel trap,” she said, tapping her temple. “But tonight I forgot to remind Arthur to grab the chicken out of the freezer, so it’s hoagies in the TV room,” she said, waving at the counter man who was holding up two torpedo-looking bundles.
Looking at Simon carefully, she patted him on the cheek. “Simon, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. You’ll stop by while you’re in town? I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Well, Mrs. White, I’m not sure if we’ll have time since the reunion is tomorrow night, and before that I was going to show Caroline around a bit more. We’re leaving on Sunday, so—”
“Lunch.”
“Lunch?” he asked.
“Lunch tomorrow. You have to eat, right?”
He nodded. I smiled. I liked her.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you at twelve.” She nodded, settling the matter. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Arthur you’re coming over tomorrow; he’ll be so pleased!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he agreed.
“I’ve got to run, see you then!” she called over her shoulder, heading out into the night.
“She’s great,” I remarked, watching as Simon balled up the remaining papers and napkins and threw them into the wastebasket.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“That was good,” I said, patting my stomach.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“So what now?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at the sudden change. The nerves were back.
“What? Oh, um, let’s head to the hotel, get checked in? Yep, let’s do that,” he said, ushering me out of the shop.
We walked silently to the car in the lightly falling snow. This trip was a big deal for him, and I’d just realized what lunch meant: he was going to be next door to the house he grew up in. For the first time in ten years.
He reached for my hand, and into his it went.
? ? ?
I took a few minutes to clear out my in-box when we got back to the hotel. I was trying really hard to leave the office behind, so I limited it to a few moments here and there, answering only the questions I couldn’t put off until Monday. Then I took a shower, wanting to get rid of the airplane and the cheesesteak smell, both of which lingered. Still damp, I padded out to the bedroom in my towel with another on my head, finding Simon lying on the bed. Hands clasped behind his head, he was staring at the ceiling.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Hey, how was your shower?”
“Fantastic, they’ve got one of those rain showers? You should take one before bed.”
“I might.”
Silence fell once more, and I crossed to the bed, sitting down beside him.