So Much For Lunch
Elise and Susan worked as title clerks at an auto dealership. Their office, located in a corner of the showroom floor, provided close contact with customers and the salesmen. In slack moments salesmen hung out around their counter telling jokes and stories. They routinely solved the daily newspaper crossword and word jumble puzzle through group effort and much laughter. At first Susan was uneasy working with the salesmen, they had such a bad reputation; sleazy folk, right next to the carnies and roadies of this world. She discovered those guys had the gift of glib, some left-brain anomaly that transforms into humor.
Elise, freckled nose and blond hair cut in a pageboy, had children around Susan’s age and had been married eons. She and Susan clicked right at the get-go. Elise moved out west from Memphis years before and still retained the air of a reticent and very proper Southern lady. She hated to draw attention to herself, particularly negative attention.
Her husband often confused their voices on the phone, he thought the two sounded so alike. Elise had a soft southern drawl and Susan’s hick-Oregonian accent just wasn’t far from Tennessee. That amused Susan.
She was easily amused, crazed by a mad crush on Richard Barrick, and functioned in a semi-euphoric state whenever he was near. Which was everyday as he was one of those salesguys loitering at the front counter. The world was brighter, music sweeter, the very air shimmered whenever Richard walked into her breathless view.
Tall with broad shoulders, he was a few years older than Susan’s 25, with wiry, curly blond hair, deep blue eyes, certainly not handsome in any traditional sense. He had a pasty complexion most of the year and a mushy nose. Ah, but he was gloriously witty and kept her laughing and laughing. Susan was a sucker for a funny man especially one with broad shoulders and a cute rear.
One day Richard’s friend, Paul Johnston, blew into town and invited Elise, Richard and Susan to lunch. Paul had some peripheral job in the car biz, Susan had no clue really to his actual role, but he reinforced her quirky car folk theory. He dressed impeccably in crisp shirts and fine suits, a dark haired man small in stature with one of the quickest minds she had ever encountered.
Paul took them to lunch at the posh restaurant at the top of the US bank tower. They boarded the elevator in high spirits, enjoying their outing and each other’s company. Elise, Richard, and Susan stood facing Paul, his back to the elevator door. He was consulting his day-planner when the elevator unexpectedly stopped. The door opened, a man walked in. Without missing a beat, Paul, looking into his little black book, intoned “Do you Richard, take this woman Elise, as your lawfully wedded wife?” Paul kept going, “To have and hold till death do you part.” Richard and Elise, shoulder to shoulder, played along. “I do” said Richard. “And do you Elise take Richard as your lawfully wedded husband” Paul went on. The startled passenger punched the elevator button and exited at the next floor. The four were laughing uproariously by the time the elevator door closed.
They were still laughing when they reached the restaurant, its light and airy ambiance whispering tranquil good taste. They approached the reservation desk where a subdued and lovely flower arrangement was displayed. The hostess wearing a summer suit, blond hair in an upsweep, was also subdued and lovely. She looked up, noticing their merriment with a hint of disdain, and asked if they had reservations. They didn’t. Paul glanced over the top of the desk at the reservation list, and picked a name. “Yes, we’re the Williams party,” he said. The hostess hadn’t noticed his action but her face had a wary expression as she led them to a linen-draped table. Elise looked uncomfortable but the rest were delighted with this turn of events.
They had a spectacular view of the cityscape through a nearby window. Drinks ordered, their conversation turned to an enthusiastic discussion of the menu, although Elise was getting quieter and quieter. They were ordering their meal when Susan noticed the hostess storming toward them, two bright red spots on her cheeks, her face set in a stern expression. “The real Williams party has arrived and you need to leave.” Elise’s cheeks flamed crimson with embarrassment at the indignity of being paraded past the other diners as the hostess marched them out of the restaurant. Paul, Richard and Susan however were unfazed.
They got their comeuppance: no time left for a proper lunch, they grabbed take-out at a nearby burger joint, a far cry from the grilled ahi they’d anticipated.
Elise, freckled nose and blond hair cut in a pageboy, had children around Susan’s age and had been married eons. She and Susan clicked right at the get-go. Elise moved out west from Memphis years before and still retained the air of a reticent and very proper Southern lady. She hated to draw attention to herself, particularly negative attention.
Her husband often confused their voices on the phone, he thought the two sounded so alike. Elise had a soft southern drawl and Susan’s hick-Oregonian accent just wasn’t far from Tennessee. That amused Susan.
She was easily amused, crazed by a mad crush on Richard Barrick, and functioned in a semi-euphoric state whenever he was near. Which was everyday as he was one of those salesguys loitering at the front counter. The world was brighter, music sweeter, the very air shimmered whenever Richard walked into her breathless view.
Tall with broad shoulders, he was a few years older than Susan’s 25, with wiry, curly blond hair, deep blue eyes, certainly not handsome in any traditional sense. He had a pasty complexion most of the year and a mushy nose. Ah, but he was gloriously witty and kept her laughing and laughing. Susan was a sucker for a funny man especially one with broad shoulders and a cute rear.
One day Richard’s friend, Paul Johnston, blew into town and invited Elise, Richard and Susan to lunch. Paul had some peripheral job in the car biz, Susan had no clue really to his actual role, but he reinforced her quirky car folk theory. He dressed impeccably in crisp shirts and fine suits, a dark haired man small in stature with one of the quickest minds she had ever encountered.
Paul took them to lunch at the posh restaurant at the top of the US bank tower. They boarded the elevator in high spirits, enjoying their outing and each other’s company. Elise, Richard, and Susan stood facing Paul, his back to the elevator door. He was consulting his day-planner when the elevator unexpectedly stopped. The door opened, a man walked in. Without missing a beat, Paul, looking into his little black book, intoned “Do you Richard, take this woman Elise, as your lawfully wedded wife?” Paul kept going, “To have and hold till death do you part.” Richard and Elise, shoulder to shoulder, played along. “I do” said Richard. “And do you Elise take Richard as your lawfully wedded husband” Paul went on. The startled passenger punched the elevator button and exited at the next floor. The four were laughing uproariously by the time the elevator door closed.
They were still laughing when they reached the restaurant, its light and airy ambiance whispering tranquil good taste. They approached the reservation desk where a subdued and lovely flower arrangement was displayed. The hostess wearing a summer suit, blond hair in an upsweep, was also subdued and lovely. She looked up, noticing their merriment with a hint of disdain, and asked if they had reservations. They didn’t. Paul glanced over the top of the desk at the reservation list, and picked a name. “Yes, we’re the Williams party,” he said. The hostess hadn’t noticed his action but her face had a wary expression as she led them to a linen-draped table. Elise looked uncomfortable but the rest were delighted with this turn of events.
They had a spectacular view of the cityscape through a nearby window. Drinks ordered, their conversation turned to an enthusiastic discussion of the menu, although Elise was getting quieter and quieter. They were ordering their meal when Susan noticed the hostess storming toward them, two bright red spots on her cheeks, her face set in a stern expression. “The real Williams party has arrived and you need to leave.” Elise’s cheeks flamed crimson with embarrassment at the indignity of being paraded past the other diners as the hostess marched them out of the restaurant. Paul, Richard and Susan however were unfazed.
They got their comeuppance: no time left for a proper lunch, they grabbed take-out at a nearby burger joint, a far cry from the grilled ahi they’d anticipated.
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