Unknown Diners

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lorne and Catherine did a quick circuit of the tables and bade farewell to those whose eyes they caught, then they left. It was pouring rain when they reached the lobby and looked outside. Lorne pulled out his phone, glanced at the time, 1652, and opened the weather radar. "The rear end of the front is over Bowen, it'll be half an hour before the system has passed over."

"We could do the passage to the SkyTrain."

"Then there's a block and a half walk, nearly two, in the downpour from Roundhouse to the boat." He looked at his blazer.

"Same to my place." She looked at her suit.

"We could take a cab, or we could stay on the train to Marine Drive, get off and head back. That'll consume a good half hour. I love people watching."

"You too? I love it. Draw my characters from people watching."

"Another option — we could head up to the restaurant here. We barely managed a nibble at the buffet."

"I've often wondered why people stand there eating, rather than moving back to make room for others."

"Yeah, selfish — maybe only unthinking. Restaurant?"

"I read a great review of the place several months ago." She smiled at him as she led him to the escalator. "The Unknown Diner had glowing comments on it. Crazy, I never guessed."

The dining room was nearly empty as they were shown to a window table overlooking the harbour and were told it would be a few minutes before dinner service began. "Appears we're ahead of the early-dining tourists."

"It'll soon start filling, it's just coming up to seventeen hundred. Many of these hotel restaurants get two full sittings of tourists before Vancouver comes out to dine," he said as they examined the room.

They watched the rain pelt against the windows, driven by the blusters. She pointed out over his shoulder. "There's the line of bright now starting to show through the rain."

He turned to look. "The clear behind the front. It'll be a good evening for sailing. I've a far finer sport in mind, though."

Catherine squeezed his hand, and he turned back to look at her, listening to her dusky voice. "He turned to look at her, watching her mouth move as she looked longingly at him. She crossed her legs and squeezed — no relief. She lowered a hand and pressed, then more firmly, wishing it was his hand."

Lorne shifted in his chair and rearranged himself. "You'll rip the front out of my trousers if you keep doing that." He shuffled his chair around from opposite her to facing out the window and leaned across to lay a light kiss on her lips and a hand on her thigh under the drape of the tablecloth. "Is this better?"

"Getting there." Catherine placed her hand on his and slowly moved it up and across her thigh as she slouched farther in her chair, spread her legs and tilted her hips. "Just a little pressure, Lorne. Connection. Ease the buzz. Oh, God!"

He leaned forward farther in his chair and pretended to be pointing at something on the waterfront as he pressed his other hand on her mound. "Better now?"

"I always get so horny when my fertile time approaches." She pulled her mouth back into a dimpled smile. "So fucking hot for you right now."

"We can forget about eating here. Head back now. Grab a cab."

"No, it's fine. Your hand — the connection with you. The rush has eased now. Need to keep my mind off... Let's talk about sailing plans for tomorrow, to Gibsons, dinner at Molly's."

"They — what was her name — Barbara was going to email you a reminder."

Catherine reached for her phone from her waist pouch. "I've left it switched off the past few days. I'm sure there's a million emails and texts." She pressed Lorne's hand into her mound, then eased it and guided it down her thigh. "I'm fine now."

They both straightened up, then leaned in to brush lips. Her phone finally cycled on, and she scrolled through her inbox. "Nothing, that's strange, she seemed competent... Stupid me. Been away from this too long. The email on my reviewer card is a web-based one for greater anonymity."

She browsed to the site, logged in and quickly found the email. "After all the fluff, it confirms 2030 Tuesday 20 June, table for two." She did a quick thanking reply, pushing Send as the waiter approached with menus and a wine list.

Lorne clicked off his phone as he arrived, and in response to the question about drinks, he pointed to the wine list. "We'll be quick, give us a minute, two at the most."

They opened the menus and scanned the daily sheet. "How about sharing a selection of entrées and a half carafe of wine?"

They quickly chose five seafood starters and a half litre of the WaveCrest Pinot Gris, then closed the menus and wine list. The waiter saw the signal, returned to the table, and Lorne gave him the order, telling him they wanted them simultaneously to share.

Partway through writing the order, the waiter shook his pen. "I'll have to get another. This one's dead."

"Here use this." Lorne pulled a pen from his blazer's pocket.

"La Luce. That's the new place on Broadway. You from there?"

"No, it's one of their promotional giveaways. You keep it, I've far too many pens, and I'm constantly being given more."

As soon as the waiter had gone, Lorne said, "I was checking the forecasts. The winds behind the front will decrease overnight, becoming near still by noon. We could leave early to take advantage of what breezes remain."

"What's early?"

"Eight should be early enough. It's only twenty miles the shortest route. Mid-morning the dying circulation winds will be replaced by the increasing anabatic winds as the day warms."

"Anabatic, what's that?"

"The winds caused by the rising air over the land as it warms. The cooler air over the water moves inland to replace the risen air, giving us what are commonly called sea breezes."

"Yeah, I know the sea breezes and also the land breezes in the evening. I'm sure you have a technical name for those." She giggled. "You really don't like motoring, do you?"

"Yeah, katabatic." He grinned. "We could motor there in two and a half hours but where's the challenge? The enjoyment?"

"How long will it take us sailing the whole way?"

"With an eight o'clock start, we'd have twelve hours. We'd use four or five of them if we took the short way, across the south of Bowen."

"And the long way?"

"If we ghost up Howe Sound with the sea breezes until early afternoon and then reach across and run back down the west side of Gambier as the squamish begins, it'll take six to eight hours. It's beautiful. Have you been through there?"

"No, my first time is tomorrow." She smiled at him, tilted her head and sighed. "You're a dream. Do you know that?"

"I thought you were the dream. My dozen year dream."

"Yes, okay, I've one starry-eyed dreamer. You have millions of my readers who idolise thirty-two versions of you as their strong, gentle, loving dream hunk."

"Thirty-two? You've cloned me? Maybe Cynthia would want..."

The waiter arrived with the carafe and poured. "The plates should be only another few minutes."

"Cynthia has all thirty-two clones of you. She's the only one who knows you're my model."

"You told her?"

"Didn't have to. She guessed it soon after she learned I write women's fiction, and I had signed one of my early books for her. God, that has to be eight or nine years ago."