Free Breakfast in Stilettos by Liz Kingswood Page A

up my sacrifice to meter maidenhood, I made my way into the building elevator.
    To my surprise David answered the door. “Oh, hello, Emily dear. Do come in.” He had obviously worked late as he was still dressed in full lawyer regalia. He gave me his gracious host gesture and once I was inside offered to take my coat. “Frank has the telephone glued to his ear.” He replied to my questing look around the apartment. “Would you like a glass of something? I just opened a 2001 Chateauneuf-du-Pape .”
    Out of habit, I translated the name out loud. “Pope’s New Castle?” I hadn’t eaten, but I nodded, knowing it would go straight to my head.
    David picked up the bottle and looked at the label. “Is that what it means? It’s actually a very good wine region in the Rhône Valley. I get these bottles from the wine club but half the time don’t pay any attention to the history.” He poured a generous measure. “Tell me how you like it.”
    I took the glass and made my way into in the living room, stopping in front of the massive picture window with its fabulous view. The black velvet water of Puget Sound sparkled with the reflection of stars and city lights. Two ghostly ferries passed each other in the distance.
    The view engendered a pang of emptiness. So many wonderful memories of Frank and me were buried under a weight of anger and resentment.
    David joined me at the window. He had a glass of his own and was tugging absently at his tie, looking sad. “A fabulous view, isn’t it?”
    I knew David had lost his partner to AIDS a couple of years ago, which was why Frank had moved in. It was David’s second loss. His first great love had died many years earlier of the same disease. And though David seemed to take these tragedies in stride, I could never escape the sense that only a thin veneer of gloss covered a yawning cavern of grief. No one should have to endure losing two lovers like that. Whenever I was alone with him I was afraid I’d say something stupid and crack the veneer. Who knew what might surface?
    Frank said I was silly for being so worried, that David was a rock. But I didn’t buy it. Frank wasn’t known for his insights, just his insensitivity.
    I felt a mixture of relief and dread as Frank hollered from down the hall. “I’ll be right there.” Apparently he had heard me come in. A moment later he stepped out of the hall, tossing an old phone book at the dining room table, where it landed with a heavy thud. Frank was never self-consciousness about the noise he made. In fact, he moved within a swirling wave of sight, smell and sound. I always felt a bit dizzy in his wake.
    David left my side and smacked Frank on the shoulder as he passed. “Manners, dear boy. It was good seeing you again, Emily.” Then he disappeared into the master suite on the other end of the apartment.
    Frank was, as usual, freshly showered and tousled. He held out his arms, gesturing me to hug him. “Shouldn’t I get something for those flowers?”
    I set down my wine and hugged him back, looking for some hint of that familiar, relaxed comradery we used to share. The kind of hug you could exhale into and release your innermost anything. But it wasn’t there, not really. Nor did I sense that he was looking for it. Maybe he didn’t even know such a hug existed.
    I released him, picking up my wine glass again and sitting down at the dining room table, feeling disappointed and all too aware of the growing pangs of hunger. “Sal was livid with you, you know. She’d have you arrested if she could.”
    “I half expected her to throw them away before you got home.” He poured himself a glass of wine.
    “Oh come on, a woman doesn’t throw away roses. Even if sent by the Devil himself.”
    He nodded as he sat down across from me and held up his glass. “True.”
    We toasted each other with a quiet clink of crystal. Frank was one of those men who understood the relationship between the female and floral kingdoms.
    “I