The River House was everything it was described as. The main dining room was luxurious, with mirrored walls and sconces that were made to look like torches flickering. There were at least thirty tables, all dressed with fresh flowers and soft white tablecloths. The place settings had gold trim, and all the silverware and napkins had the restaurant’s icon, a seagull with the edge of one wing shaped into a fork.
I don’t know if we made the sort of impression my father described when he and my mother had walked in here on their anniversary, but I did see that we drew the attention of most of the people at tables and some waiters and busboys. Kane was wearing a dark green dinner jacket and a light green tie. It brought out the green in his eyes. Because we were so young compared with the other couples there, I was sure we would attract some attention anyway. The waiter pulled out the seat for me and even unfolded my napkin for me to place on my lap.
“We’ll have a bottle of Evian, please,” Kane said. “Flat. Or do you like carbonated?” he asked me.
“No, flat’s fine.”
When the waiter left, I leaned toward him. Everyone around us seemed to be listening in.
“You really do look beautiful, Kristin. I was too frightened to look at you long with your father hovering.”
“Stop making him sound so scary.”
“He’s not scary. Well, maybe a little. You’re right, though. If I had a daughter who looked like you, I’d be armed when boys came around.”
“You’re going to make me conceited.”
“You should be.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” I paused. “And that’s no reflex response.”
“A what?”
“You know, compliment for compliment.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.”
“Of course, all the girls think you are conceited,” I added, and he smiled and gave me his Kane Hill shrug.
“Right now, the only girl’s opinion that matters is yours.”
The bottle of water was brought to us and the busboy poured it into our glasses. The waiter handed us menus, and my eyes went quickly to the lobster fra diavolo. It was fifty-five dollars. The least expensive entrée on the menu was thirty-eight, and that was a vegetarian dish.
“Don’t worry about cost,” Kane said. “I saved up all the loose change in the house.”
“What?”
He laughed. “My father loves telling this story about himself and two of his friends struggling to pay for college, and one day one of them had the brilliant idea to search under the backseat of his father’s car. They found enough change for the three of them to go to dinner. In those days, it was less than twenty dollars for the three. He tells me a story like that once a week, if not twice. I know he’s making up half of them. He’s terrified that I might take money for granted.”
“Well, he’s right to worry about it.”
“I don’t. One thing’s for certain. I’ll never take you for granted.”
“I think that’s a compliment.”
He smiled, shrugged, and looked at the menu. “The fra diavolo is to die for,” he said.
It was truly one of the most special nights out I had ever had. My father and I went to restaurants, and I had gone to them
with friends, but it was usually fast-food types, and the experience wasn’t unusual. My father had taken me out to eat, but it was different going to an especially good restaurant with my father. He was as attentive to me as he could be, and he was more relaxed and talked freely about his youth, his family, and my mother when we were out together, but this was so different, and not only because it was a very expensive, high-end place. I did feel more grown-up sitting there with Kane.
Because of his father’s wealth and position in the community and his mother’s upbringing especially, he had been schooled in dinner etiquette as a prince might be. He wasn’t pedantic or condescending, but he instructed me about the extra silverware, the proper way to do this and that, never making any of it sound stupid or silly, the way I was sure my friends and most of the other boys would. Despite his casualness, he seemed to harbor a respect for all things elegant.
It was at that moment, when he was talking about how he was trained to sit and dine properly, that I compared him to Christopher. I had made a real discovery this evening. Yes, I thought, Kane wasn’t just another pretty face. He really was more mature than his friends. Maybe, just maybe, he was someone who could be trusted.
“You look like you’re drifting away,” he said at one point.
“No, I hear you. You make me think about other things.”