by Waldorfia Tomosky
Friday Night (Continued)
So there I was, standing in the middle of an elegant hotel lobby, meeting a famous editor who was interested in my work.
He stretched out his right hand to me. Of course I responded. As we took each other’s right hands he gently folded his left hand so that my right hand was totally surrounded. It wasn’t threatening. It was gentle and seemed to imply friendship.
This initial mannerism re-enforced my original opinion of him when I first saw him enter the lobby; strong yet sensitive.
The handshake was friendlier than I anticipated but attempted not to notice.
We exchanged small talk about my flight into Boston and if the hotel was satisfactory.
He then said “What am I thinking of? My apologies. You are probably starving. The airlines do not offer much in the line of food these days.”
Without waiting for my answer he arose from the hotel sofa we had been sitting on and offered his hand to help me up. It was a nice but unnecessary gesture. He then offered his arm so that I felt more comfortable walking into the hotel dining room. This area was as richly decorated as the lobby and he made an excellent escort. I felt like a princess.
The Maître d’ greeted him by name and asked “The usual seating sir?”
“Yes Richard” answered my escort.
We were led to a very nice and secluded table that overlooked the Battery Wharf and North Bay. It was a perfect setting.
My escort spoke first. “This is my favorite spot in Boston. It is inspiring to think of what history has left for us in this bay.”
I answered courteously but truthfully.
“It would have been devastating if I ever found out that I bypassed this scene and never knew about it.”
“You have good insight” he responded; quickly adding “I visited Greece when I was a young man and walked around the bay and seawall of Piraeus. It was a nice visit but a shame that I never knew until later that Socrates’ dialogues commenced there. I don’t know if I could have ever departed Greece had I known that.”
A waiter appeared as if from nowhere. He, like the Maître d’, addressed my escort by name. It was apparent that he was a good customer. My escort quietly told the waiter to give us a few minutes.
“Of course sir” answered the waiter. He disappeared as magically as he had appeared.
“The hotel specializes in Portuguese food” my escort said. “It is a result of the Portuguese people that make up a lot of the old families that settled on Cape Cod and in Rhode Island. Their food is delicious. May I order some for you?”
I responded positively without hesitation. I do love variety.