He glanced at his watch before calling the young waitress to the table. “Seems I’ve been stood up.” He requested another glass of red.

The young woman returned with a glass of wine filled nearly to overflowing. “On the house,” she said as she placed it before him.

He lowered his eyes. “You’re too kind.”

She pointed to the yellow rose on his table and asked, “For her?”

He smiled. “It’s a bit old-fashioned, I know, but I’m a romantic.”

“I wouldn’t feel too bad,” she said, nodding toward the empty seat. “People get hung up for all kinds of reasons.”

“I half expected it,” he said with a sigh. “We’ve only met online. Who knows? She might have come in here, seen me, and decided to leave.”

The waitress handed him a menu. “Might as well eat.” She cleared the place setting across from him with a few swift moves. “You’ve got to be hungry, right?”

“I always thought eating alone in a restaurant was pretty pathetic. Don’t you?”

“No,” she replied. “It shows self-confidence.” She pushed thick, black-rimmed eyeglasses higher up her nose. “How about some lentil soup or a small salad to start?”

“Actually, soup sounds good.”

His eyes followed her as she threaded a path through the crowded restaurant with the fluid elegance of a dancer—lithe, yet erect. When she started back to the table, he dropped his head and let his shoulders slump.

She set the bowl of steaming hot soup in front of him and handed him a spoon. As his hand grazed hers, he noticed several star-shaped tattoos on her forearm, which seemed to him incongruous. She projected such innocence and freshness, as though she’d come from someplace in the heartland, like Bloomington, Indiana; Youngstown, Ohio; or Normal, Illinois. “What else would you like?” she asked.

You, he thought. “The veal,” he said.

“Good choice,” she replied.

As she turned to leave, the man raised his hand. “May I ask you a question?”

The waitress paused.

“What kind of a person stands someone up?”

The young woman rocked slightly as she ran her hands over her tightly pulled hair. “I don’t know. I’d never go out with someone I hadn’t met.”

“But if you did, and you saw me, would you leave without even speaking to me? I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” he said. “It’s just that...”

“I’m sure you’re a nice guy,” the waitress replied. “You shouldn’t let it get to you. These things happen.”

The man held up the yellow rose. “I’d like you to have this.”

She looked at him quizzically before accepting his gift. “I’ll check on your veal.”

“You’re sweet,” he said.

She blushed. “It’s my job,” she mumbled before heading toward the kitchen.

The man ate his dinner slowly. The veal was tender and the creamy gravy delicious. He used bread to sop up the last bits.

When the waitress returned, she complimented him on his appetite. “Guess you got over your shyness about eating alone.”

He smiled slightly while placing his napkin back onto his lap.

“You had no trouble cleaning your plate!”

“I was pretending to have dinner with you,” he replied.

She dismissed his comment with a shy wave of her hand. “No, really,” he said.

She smirked. “So, will we be having coffee and dessert?”

His face fell. “You’re laughing at me.”

She chuckled, in spite of her attempts at restraint. “No, I’m not. Really.”

He lowered his eyes and folded his hands as if in prayer.

“Sorry,” she said and touched his shoulder lightly. “I’m easily embarrassed.” She collected herself. “What else would you like?”

“For you to have dinner with me sometime—for real.”

She glanced at him over the top of her glasses. “I never go out with customers.”

He exhaled and tilted his head to the side. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

She smiled as she put his check on the table. “I don’t.”