The four older guys were sitting in a booth at their favorite bar, almost empty early on a rainy Tuesday evening. They were talking about their kids, the prospects for the Giants this year and how life had treated them. None of these were new themes.
Max heaved a sigh. "I can't tell you how happy I am not to travel any more! God! There was a time I woke up in Dallas and had no idea that is where I was! Thank God, they left a morning paper under the door.
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, Bonnie and Clyde said it best. 'Life on the run ain't no fun'."
Lou raised his scotch glass. "Yeah boys, but there were times, right?"
All four nodded. Sam and Harry smiled and nodded very slowly. Harry sighed and shook his head.
"So?" Max asked. "Why the smile. What is flitting across your so called brain?"
Harry waved his hand at Max. "Fahget about it. It was a long time ago."
By now the other three were all looking at Harry. After all, a new story? Something to make this early evening go faster? C'mon Harry!
Sam, who was sitting next to Harry gave him a friendly poke in the ribs. "So, tell us already. What made you smile. It's not one of your more common acts."
Harry sighed again and stared above their heads. "Well, okay. But only because it's raining outside and I'm not leaving until it stops. "Harry settled a little deeper in the corner of the booth. Sally the waitress came by and they all signaled for one more.
Harry continued to look over the heads of the two friends across from him. The murmurs in the room faded from his conscienseness. He had the picture in his mind as if it had happened yesterday instead of thirty odd years ago.
At the time, Harry worked for a furniture company. This particular promotion required him to travel through a number of medium to small markets and set up mattress sales at various hotels and promote them as one-day specials on hotel grade mattresses. Once he had the deal set up, the trucks would come in, his sales crew would arrive, the locals would flood in, mattresses would be sold and once the sale was set, Harry was on his way to the next town.
Harry was in his thirties and while not a tall man, and a bit balding, he was an attractive guy. Well built, with piercing hazel eyes and a ready smile, Harry was the picture of a salesman.
Harry was married, three kids and happy. He was not happy to be on the road, but hell, make the most of it, right? So, the sale in Charlotte was set. He was staying at the Westin which was nice, with a fine restaurant, a comfy bar and a good bed.
Harry, as usual, had dinner sent up by room service. As he ate his steak and potatoes, he got his paper work done and went downstairs to the business center to FAX it to the home office.
He laboriously fed the paper work into the machine and waited. As he did he glanced across the lobby at the Grill Room. It was not crowded. As the last copy ground away and the machine beeped at him to let him know it had done its duty, he took the papers, clipped them together and put them in his little portfolio which he carried everywhere.
He thought to himself, "well, one little brandy and I can probably call it a night." He had a ten o'clock flight to Atlanta and home in the morning. He strolled across the lobby and up to the bar. He ordered a Courvoisier and looked around the Grill Room. It was a richly paneled room with heavy chairs, large oak tables and excellent food.
"What would have been so bad to eat a little later and do it here?" Harry sighed to himself. Second thoughts bugged him. As his eyes swept over the restaurant, he spotted two ladies having dinner alone at a corner table. They were late forties to early fifties. An easy ten years older than Harry. As he stared at their animated conversation he noticed they each had a glass of white wine in front of them. The silver ware was still neatly set on the table. They had not started dinner as yet and since the menus were still in front of both of them, obviously they had not ordered as yet, either.
Harry to this day does not know what came over him, but he was suddenly walking boldly through the room, up to the table and standing there smiling. Both ladies, somewhat startled, looked up at this younger man, smiling and standing there with a snifter of brandy in his hand and a leather portfolio under his arm.
"Ladies," Harry had this mellifluous voice that could be commanding at a sales meeting and seductive under the right circumstances. "I hope I'm not intruding. But you look so lovely sitting here and were so animated in your conversation. I wonder if I might join you with my brandy?"
As he spoke Harry looked at both of them. The one on his left was a little bit overweight, but she carried it well, wearing a light blue dress and a strand of pearls around her neck. The neckline of the dress showed some cleavage to a generous pair of breasts.
The lady to his right was the older of the two, an easy fifty. She was rail thin, but elegant looking with a tight black sheath dress, diamond earrings and a bracelet to match. He saw that they both wore wedding bands. The skinny, elegant one also had a diamond engagement ring to match the wedding band.
The younger, heavier of the two smiled. He saw the lines around her eyes crinkle. Obviously she was used to smiling. Her teeth flashed very white against the dark red lipstick on her full lips. "Well, aren't you the charmer! Are you with the hotel?"
It was Harry's turn to laugh. "No m'am," he chuckled as he sat. "I'm your proverbial traveling salesman. Have you ladies eaten dinner yet?"
The thin one spoke up. "Just about to. What did you say your name was?"
"Harry. Harry Shepard." That was close enough to his real last name so he could remember it.
She spoke again. There was an elegance to her voice. "Well, Mr. Shepard, what would you recommend?"
Harry sat and took the menu from her. Just then, the tall, Middle Eastern looking waiter arrived tableside. "Ready to order?"
Harry smiled up at him. "What are the specials for tonight?"
The waiter rattled off some fish and some steak specials, the older of the two chose a trout the younger a veal risotto. Harry went for a cup of coffee.
Before the waiter left, Harry picked up the wine list from the table and ordered a bottle of a light California Chardonnay. As he handed the menus and wine list to the waiter he turned back to the two ladies. "Ladies, thank you so much for brightening my evening. Of course, dinner is on me."
The elegant one said, "Mr. Shepard, no need for that. You are not even eating!"
"It's Harry, dear lady and I ate already, with no idea that this lovely surprise was waiting for me. Please. It is my pleasure."
The younger one, on his left, held out her hand. "Muriel. Muriel Blanchard."
He took the hand, very small and delicate for a larger woman like this and kissed it gently. "Charmed." He turned to the other one.
"Grace. Grace Dempsey." She too held out her hand and he kissed it as well. It was larger, stronger but very soft.
The waiter arrived with the Chardonnay and poured a smidgen for Harry to taste. It was excellent. The waiter poured all the way around. Harry asked questions politely and found that Muriel and Grace lived in Memphis and had come to Charlotte for a regional meeting of a non-profit on which they served as State board members in Tennessee.
Grace had two boys, one a senior at Notre Dame, the other a sophomore at LSU. Muriel had a boy and a girl, both in high school. Grace's husband owned a Ford dealership, Muriel's an insurance agency.
The bottle was empty before dinner was finished. Harry was telling them tales of visiting Costa Rica, Mexico and his hobby of photography. He told them of going deep into jungles and taking pictures of rare birds and high mountains. Most of it was true.
Half way through the second bottle of Chardonnay, they were laughing uproariously at stories of Harry's time as a disc jockey in Philadelphia, at Muriel's stories of as she said, "believe it or not a cheer leader about twenty pounds and many years ago."
