He drove them into the downtown area, pulling up to a valet outside the golden awning of the Atlanta Downtown Viscolli Grand Hotel. Valerie looked up and saw the rooftop restaurant. “I’ve read about this. How did you score reservations? Are you friends with the manager? Is this a Calla hookup?”
“No. The owner.”
“The owner? Of this place?”
As he opened her door, he said, “About a hundred years ago, I helped build it. It took a call to the owner and the table was ours.”
She laughed as they walked into the hotel lobby. Green Italian marble floors, black leather furniture, gleaming brass accents, and rich oriental rugs all screamed old-school elegance and sophistication. They walked straight to the elevators and a forest green uniformed attendant pressed the call button for them and held his keycard over a magnetic reader until it lit up green. “Twentieth floor, Mr. Dixon.”
When the doors shut, she looked at him with mirth. “Mr. Dixon, eh? How did he know your name?”
“I imagine he was told I’d be coming. We worked closely with the staff renovating the hotel and building the restaurant. It wouldn’t take much for them to know to look for me or recognize me when they saw me. That, and I think they have some clandestine system here with the valet and the concierge and whatnot.”
The elevator went straight to the top without stopping, probably as a result of the attendant swiping his card on the ground floor. They stepped into a foyer area outside the main doors of the restaurant. As they approached the reception desk, the blond man in a tuxedo looked up and smiled. “Mr. Dixon. Welcome back to the Viscolli. It’s our pleasure to serve you this evening. Your table is ready. Right this way, please.”
They walked through the crowded dining room to a table for two next to the window. TheMaître D’held the chair out for Valerie and handed her a menu. After informing them of their waiter’s name, he left to return to his post.
Valerie skimmed the menu, stealing glances at Brad who had set his down to watch her. Finally, she put her menu to the side and propped her chin in her hands. “I cannot even think about what I want to eat, imagining how good everything is going to be.”
“Good point. Let’s simplify.” He sat back in his chair. “Chicken or beef?”
“Hmmm. Beef.”
“Okay. Beef or fish?”
“Oh, beef. Definitely.”
He glanced briefly at the menu. “I’d recommend the fillet. It’s aged prime and so tender it will melt in your mouth. And the chef does some amazing things with sides. There’s this root vegetable tartan thing that looks like a work of art.”
She smiled coyly as she leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. Trying to sound like a Dickensian waif, she said, “Please, sir, I’ll leave the ordering to you. You clearly know the landscape. Do you bring all your special lady friends here to impress them?”
Brad frowned. “I’ve only ever had business dinners here.” His expression suddenly lightened. “You’re the first ‘special lady’ I’ve ever brought here.”
“Really?” Valerie’s tone of voice sounded more skeptical than perhaps she intended.
Brad set the menu down and captured her eyes. “You’re the only special lady I’ve ever wanted to impress, Valerie.”
Those words caused a flush to move from her chest, over her neck, and across her face. It took willpower not to fan herself.
They chatted comfortably in between service of bread, salads, dinner, and dessert. She let Brad handle ordering everything and enjoyed every bite. Even the coffee they had with dessert tasted rich and savory and gourmet to her tongue.
“I’m moving out tomorrow after church,” he announced after swallowing the last bite of a plum torte.
“Into the apartment building?”
“Yeah. Plumber hooked up the shower yesterday. I’ve had a crew clearing out and moving furniture in all week.”
“Do you need help moving?”
“No, but I’d love your company. We can get lunch after church and then head out. Everything’s already packed.”
The waiter approached. “Mr. Dixon, Mrs. Westcott would like you and your guest to enjoy a complimentary dinner tonight. If there is any way we can be of service, please feel at home and enjoy our hospitality. All the amenities of the Viscolli Grand are at your disposal. Please enjoy.”
His eyes widened slightly before he laughed. “Well, that is very generous of her. Please convey my thanks.”
The waiter didn’t reply, he just made a little bow and retreated.
Valerie leaned forward. “And exactly who is Mrs. Westcott? A special lady friend you neglected to mention, perhaps?”
