Beautiful Pt. 01

"Do you see them much?"

"I try to get up there a few weekends a year. They live in Asheville, it's about four hours away."

"I know. Dad has a cabin north of Weaverville. Spent a lot of vacations there."

She glanced over at me, a smirk on her face. "Never really pegged you for a woodsy, mountain girl."

"I have layers, not that anyone cares." I shook myself. Stop belittling yourself, stupid. Damn. Okay, change subjects before she scolds you. "Mom would have much rather had a beach house. A lot more prestigious than a cabin in the woods. Mom really cares about that stuff."

"Did she come from the upper crust?"

"Actually just on the outside. My dad did, old money. Not as much now as there was, but Mom, she went to a fancy prep school on a scholarship, always watching the kids with better lives, in her opinion anyway."

"So your mom literally married your dad for his money? Please tell me that's not true."

I laughed. "Maybe a little. But Dad, he's absolutely enamored with her, always has been. But he doesn't let her walk on him. At least, not much. And Mom, she's fiercely protective of him and the family. I mean, he's given her everything she's ever wanted. Social standing and consequence, Mom's on all the committees. She's in a book club with the governor's wife, for crying out loud. Her opinion matters, which it didn't when she was young. Social mountaineering."

"Gotcha. So what was your role in all that growing up?"

"Head cheerleader, homecoming court, then Duke. Had to join Delta Alpha Chi, the sorority mom couldn't get into when she went to school. Majored in English."

Sandy laughed and shook her head. "Is that code for 'Mrs.'?

"Basically. But the joke was on her, I really love English and literature, and my sorority was great."

We pulled up to the front of the restaurant, and I grinned and blushed. "I've just been talking about me the whole way, haven't I? I'm sorry."

Sandy looked at me with a little half smile that made my heart flip in my chest. "You think I mind? Come on, let's go see if our table is ready." She climbed out of her Cherokee and as she walked around the Jeep I took a moment to check my makeup in the visor mirror. For some reason I never once thought she wasn't coming to open my door, which she did.

I put my hand in hers as I climbed down, feeling that zing as I touched her. As we walked in I could feel her presence next to me, and I kept having to stop myself from glancing over at her. Whenever I did, she met my gaze with a happy, kind smile that made my insides go gooey.

There were a number of people waiting, but Sandy made her way confidently up to the hostess. "Dalton, reservation for two?" The petite brunette behind the counter looked down at her book.

"Yes, ma'am, let me go see if your table is ready." She disappeared for a moment before returning with a smile. "Follow me."

She led us to the back of the dining room and up a short flight of stairs to a rooftop terrace. The tables scattered about had blue tops and white chairs, with a vine covered pergola overhead lit by soft orange lights.

The supporting pillars were wrapped with more shining bulbs, and the whole area seemed to me like a fairyland.

"Wow." My mouth hung slightly open as I looked around, taking in the scene.

"Nice, isn't it? This is one of my favorite spots in the city."

I felt almost giggly, like a schoolgirl on her first real date. "I love it. It's very romantic."

Sandra's grin widened, making me blush. "It is. I'm glad you like it. Wait 'till you try the food." We sat right next to the railing, overlooking the street below. Our server arrived only a moment later, tall and clean cut with a winning smile. He flashed it at both of us before asking us what we'd be drinking.

"Do you know what you want?"

I shook my head. "An actual wine list? Real cocktails? I'm overwhelmed. I have no idea."

"Do you mind then?" She nodded her head towards our waiter.

"I'm in your hands." Ooh, it gave me a little thrill to say that.

She looked up at him. "We'd like an order of Dolmades and two Greek Mules."

"Right away."

I chuckled nervously. "Do I want to know what a Greek Mule is?"

"Just a cocktail, vodka, lemon, lime, ginger beer, I love it. It's my favorite drink here." She sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm only going to be able to have one of them. I still have to drive." She leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief. "You can have as many as you want."

I grinned and shook my head, taking a sip of my water. "No way. Three drink max for me." I made myself look her in the eye, feeling the heat that always came with that. "Why, you trying to get me drunk?"

Her face didn't deny it, and she sat back. "I'd just like to see you relaxed, enjoying yourself."

"I am."

Sandy's smile widened, softening her strong features. God, she was stunning. I was only able to pull my eyes away when our waiter dropped off our drinks. They came in little metal jugs, with a sprig of thyme, filled with ice and a translucent liquid.

"Okay, so try this."

It was amazing, the spicy ginger playing against the fig vodka and the lemon lime and baklava syrup. I guess, anyway. I mean, I couldn't have told you what baklava tasted like, anyway. It was yummy though, a perfect compliment to a warm, autumn North Carolina evening.

I made myself look at the menu, everything looking amazing. "Any recommendations?"

"Actually, if you want we can do the Grecian Grill for two, try a bunch of different things. It's what I ordered the first time my friend Jeanine brought me here."

I found it on the menu, and it did look amazing, a variety of meats with vegetables, potatoes, salad and bread.

"Mmm." I nodded my assent. "That sounds perfect."

"Alright." Sandy signaled our waiter and put in our order. As soon as he withdrew she looked back across the table, that confident, sassy smile spread across her features. "So you're a carnivore like me, then?"

I blushed. "Guilty as charged. There aren't a whole lot of foods I don't like, as you can probably tell." I almost managed to not say it, and I knew I was going to get that look. "Sorry."

"Who's in your head when you do that?"

"What?"

"When you put yourself down about your weight. Whose voice are you hearing?"

A ton of thoughts raced through my head. I could lie and say it was mine, I could deny that it was anyone at all, but I decided on the truth. My eyes went down, shame burning in my heart. "My mother. It's always my mother."

Sandy nodded. "I know what you mean."

I gave her a bemused look. I couldn't believe she'd ever struggled with her weight.

"No, I'm serious. Have I ever shown you a picture of my sister?"

I shook my head. "Huh-uh."

She pulled out her phone and tapped on it for a second before handing it to me. On the screen was a shot of Sandy standing next to a slightly shorter blonde. I had no problem believing they were related, they had the same general facial structure, and the same lovely green eyes, but where Sandy's face was longer and angled, her sister's was softer and more rounded. The same was true of her figure, which was much closer to an hourglass than Sandy's much straighter frame.

"Is she older or younger?" I handed the phone back.

"Older. Three years. Everyone always expected me to be like her, but I wasn't. She was always so elegant, pretty dresses, prettier manners. I was all knees and elbows, rough around the edges.. But I wanted to be like her, so much."

"Was she an athlete?"

"Yeah, but she preferred gymnastics and dance. She was a cheerleader like you. She was on the homecoming court when I was a Freshman. My mom took me with when we went to buy her dress." She looked down at her phone. "She looked so beautiful. I was never like her."

The longing and regret in her voice made my heart break, and I couldn't help reaching out and taking her hand. "I think you're beautiful."

Her fingers tightened in mine as a shy smile crept across her striking features. "No, you don't, but thanks for saying it."

Before I could protest my sincerity our appetizer arrived, and Sandy's eyes brightened as the dolmades were set on our table. "Okay, here, try this." She picked one up, dipped it in the sauce and held it out. My heart was suddenly in my throat as I leaned forward and bit into the grape leaf wrap she was holding. The filling was a creamy, savory rice concoction, and it was delicious.

I put my hand up to my mouth, sighing in pleasure as the flavor washed over me. When I opened my eyes Sandy was grinning at me. "Good, huh?"

"Oh, yeah! It's amazing." I leaned forward for another bite, and Sandy gave it to me. Something about the look in her eyes made me blush. "What?"

"Nothing. I just love seeing you smile."

I shook my head. "Now you're the one that's fibbing."

Sandy laughed. "So you admit you were lying!"

"Huh-uh, that's not what I meant." I wagged a finger at her, making her giggle. She shook her head at me and popped the rest of the dolmades into her mouth, and I made myself look away. Eventually I turned my face back towards hers, and her soft smile made my heart race, but also put me at ease, which was the oddest feeling. I returned her smile, and her eyes brightened instantly. Maybe it was true.

The rest of our meal arrived, giving us something else to talk about as we made our way through the various offerings of meat and sides. I think my favorite was the lamb chop, though the shrimp ran a close second.

I dropped an empty shrimp tail onto my plate and sat back, taking a sip of my wine. "So, what's your favorite type of food?"

"Italian. I remember one time a girlfriend and I snuck away from the team and had this amazing meal overlooking the Mediterranean. It was chicken and fish in this white wine sauce with the most amazing fresh pasta and veggies."

It all sounded delicious, but the word that really stuck out to me was 'girlfriend.' I couldn't tell if she meant a romantic partner or a platonic friend, and something told me she was reading my reaction to it.

"That sounds amazing."

"It was. The most amazing meal of my life. But I also love spicy, so I love Thai and Creole/Cajun. They do spicy better than anyone. How about you?"

"Me? I love seafood, any kind, pretty much. When I was a kid we went down and toured the Keys, and we had conches in this little restaurant there. I don't even remember what it was called. It was so good. Mom didn't like it, but the rest of us loved it."

"Your mom doesn't like seafood?"

I shrugged. "If it's prepared by a French chef and served in a fancy or trendy restaurant she likes it just fine. Open air from a roadside shack, not so much."

"She sounds like a piece of work.

I sighed. "She just sees everything through that one lens: How does this make our family look? Does it increase or decrease our social standing?" I took another drink from my wine glass, my eyes staring back into the past. "I remember when I made the varsity cheer squad my Freshman year. She was so proud of me. It was the first time I'd ever done anything that really mattered to her, and the look of approval on her face, God, I'd have done anything to keep it."

"I'm surprised she didn't have you in private school."

I shook my head. "Nope. My Grandpa, Dad's dad, always campaigned on a strong public school platform. He spent over a decade in the state legislature, and did two terms in Congress."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was eyeing a Senate run when he had his first heart attack. That, combined with Grandma getting sick, well, his heart just wasn't in it anymore." I felt the sting of that day return, when my dad had sat a fifteen-year old girl down and told her that her grandmother had Alzheimer's, and was going to slowly forget everyone she loved. I took a breath and pushed it away. "So how about you? What was your family like?"

"We were pretty normal, like a Rockwell painting normal. My dad was in corporate sales, wore a suit and tie and went off to a huge downtown office building every day. My mom taught social studies to sixth graders and coached the middle school cheer squad. They were the all American couple. They met at North Carolina, where my dad was a Tight End and Mom was on the dance team."

"All-American couple, huh? So was it like in the books? Perfect, on the outside and a nightmare at home?"

Sandy chuckled. "No, I had a wonderful childhood. Dad and Mom were always completely supportive of everything I wanted to do. Even if Mom was disappointed I wasn't prettier."

"So why did you become a doctor?"

She cocked her head to the side, grinning. "That's different."

"What do you mean?"

"Most people ask about my athletic career first. I mean, I've literally saved lives, but people are more impressed that I was good at whacking a ball around with a stick."

"I guess I'm not normal."

Her grin was warm as her eyes danced. "You really aren't, huh?" She closed her eyes, and I knew she was doing what I'd done just moments ago, looking back into the past. "My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer when I was a senior in high school. He beat it back for a while, long enough to see me win a national championship, and long enough for me to see him, Mr. Tarheel, wearing an Old Dominion hat."

I could see the tear form in her eye. "When I was a senior in college it came back, and there was no stopping it the second time. I graduated and was playing full time for the national team. I was in Europe when my mom called. I didn't get home in time to see him. I'd considered becoming a doctor after I was done playing. I guess that cinched it."

"But you kept playing?"

Sandy nodded, her eyes sad. "Yeah. Dad always said he couldn't wait to see me in the Olympics. I made that happen for him, even if he had to watch from heaven, but when I came home I went straight to medical school."

"Okay, so no more sad questions. How did you get involved in Field Hockey?"

"I invented it."

Her face was so serious that it took me a moment to process that she had to be kidding, and when my first giggle broke free she joined me just after. "No, seriously, I did. I would take a broom, and whack a ball around when I was a kid. I'd make my Mom or Dad stand in the doorway at the end of the hall, and I'd try to swat the ball past them." She shrugged and took another swig of her water.

"When I was seven Dad took me to Chapel Hill, bought me a North Carolina hat, and took me to my first Field Hockey game. I remember almost every minute. Afterwards dad asked me if I wanted to try and play, and two weeks later I was on a team, holding my first stick. By the end of the season I was the best player in the league."

"You were probably the best player on every team you've ever been on."

"Until I got to the national team, yeah, pretty much." Sandy sat back, with an inscrutable smile on her face. "Y'know, you're really easy to talk to, Melanie."

Blood rushed to my cheeks and I ducked my head. "No, I'm not."

"You are. I don't usually tell people about my dad. Not this soon."

"Well, you should mention that to my children. They never tell me anything." That comment made her smile, and I let myself sink into her eyes for a moment. Maybe a moment too long, as I realized she was doing the same, just looking into my eyes, and for a second the energy and connection between us was a palpable thing. So much so that I started to panic. Something told me she could see through me, that she knew how attracted to her I was.

I pulled my eyes down and away, cursing at myself for being so careless. Get a grip, Mel. There is no way someone like her wants a fat old cow like you in that way. All you're going to do is embarrass and out yourself. Keep it together.

"Melanie? Are you okay?"

I forced a smile back onto my face. "Yeah, I'm fine. What time does your friend start playing?"

Sandy glanced down at the elegant gold watch she was wearing. "Ooh, I let the time get away from me a little." I took the time she spent signaling for our check to try to get my breathing and pulse under control. I had a horrible, unbidden nightmare present itself in my brain, of Coach Dalton telling the other parents that I had come on to her. I can't say that would make me more of an outcast among the parents, but still, I don't know how my family would react.

"Melanie? Ready to go?"

"Oh!" I shook myself out of my reverie. "Did you pay already? What do I owe you?"

"Don't worry, I got it. I asked you to come, after all."

"But you said I could pay next time."

She gave me a little half smile. "I agreed you could get the next lunch." She leaned back and thumbed toward the table. "This is dinner."

I returned her grin. "You're trying to get by on a technicality? Shame on you." Oh, my god! What was I doing? I was flirting again!

"Sorry." She leaned ever so slightly forward. "So as punishment, when we get to the wine house can I buy you a drink?"

"You could probably talk me into that." God, my head was swimming.

Her hand came up and touched my arm at the elbow. "Good. Come on."

The wine house was only a few minutes away. Just like before, Sandy came around to open my door.

She reached out a hand to help me down from her SUV, and I didn't even think before sliding my palm against hers. It fit perfectly, so warm, and I felt like a princess descending from her carriage.

There were several people milling around near the back entrance, puffing on cigarettes, and as we walked towards them I realized I hadn't let go of Sandy's hand. I did so with alacrity, creating a few feet between us. Her smile slipped for just a moment, eyes glancing down.

My brain tried to process, but I wasn't able to do so before we approached the door. Several of those present greeted Sandy with friendly 'hellos'. As she responded in kind I just smiled and tried to disappear behind her. It's kind of instinctual, I guess. My husband was always the outgoing one. I generally just moved in his shadow, socially speaking.

As we headed inside I asked her if she came here a lot.

Sandy shrugged her shoulders. "A fair amount." She looked back over her shoulder towards the door we'd just come in. "I recognize them, but I don't know their names, or I'd have introduced you. And I can't stand cigarette smoke. My friends will be inside."

She wasn't wrong, and as soon as we exited the little hallway into the main room of the wine house several people from one of the tables called out to her, including a handsome, older woman who stood up in greeting. She had long, brown hair that was fading rapidly to silver, wearing a peasant's blouse and flowing green skirt.

"Sandra!"

"Jeannie!" They took each other's hands and kissed on the cheek, but Sandy immediately separated and stood next to me. "Jeannie, this is Melanie Pierson. Melanie, this is Jeanine Bonderman. Bryan, my friend playing tonight, this is his wife."

"It's a pleasure." I held out my hand.

She took it with both of hers. "The pleasure's mine, Melanie, I'm sure." She gave Sandy a significant look, and the Coach's cheeks reddened.

Sandy broke the moment as quickly as she could. "So is Bryan backstage?"

Jeanine nodded. "Yeah go on, I'm sure he'd want to see you."

"Melanie, I'm going to leave you in Jeannie's capable hands. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

Sandy headed off toward a small door next to the corner stage, and Jeanine motioned toward a chair, which I took.

"So you're the reason I didn't get my spanakopita tonight." She was smirking at me, obviously not actually angry.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged, still grinning knowingly at me, which made me want to blush. "My husband likes time to himself before he performs, to focus, meditate, so I usually go out with a girlfriend for dinner before his shows. Sandra and I had reservations for Taverna Agora, on the terrace, until Friday afternoon, when she calls me in a tizzy, begging me to let her take someone else instead."