Sooner or Later by Elizabeth Adler

Cassidy. Dressing up, a good restaurant, a bottle of wine. Somehow it didn’t seem to fit. Still, as she climbed wearily into the canopied bed, it wasn’t a bad image to fall asleep with.
    Closing her eyes, she recalled the clean jut of his jaw, the deep blue of his eyes and the way they had changed from anger to amusement when he’d recognized her. She told herself, yawning, he probably still thought of her as the freckle-faced kid he’d taught to surf all those years ago. And she fell asleep with the memories of those days filling her dreams, when life was fun and easy, and Miss Lottie was still her old self, and the sun seemed to shine perpetually on them.
    The next morning, she couldn’t get that image out of her mind: a bunch of laughing kids at the beach and big handsome Danny Boy, the heartthrob of the coast, fishing them out of the waves when they wiped out. All that afternoon, while she was working, he lurked in the back of her mind. Finally, when it got to evening, she said the hell with it, picked up the phone and called him.
    “Hi,” she said. “It’s the surfer girl who rear-ended you.”
    Dan’s eyebrows shot up and a pleased smile curled the edges of his mouth. “You again,” he said, shoving the mutt off the chair for the tenth time. And for the tenth time it climbed back up again and sat there, tongue lolling.He stared at it, exasperated. That darned dog had a mind of its own. It also had a barrel-body perched on long skinny legs, a long plumed tail and shaggy, molting black and tan fur. It looked like a moth-eaten fur cushion, but it also had a face exactly like the dog in
Babe
, and right now he could swear it was grinning at him. Suddenly, it gave a mischievous woof, wagged its plumed tail and sent everything crashing from the table.
    Ellie held the phone from her ear, then asked, astonished, “Was that a dog?”
    It barked again and Dan said, “Meet my new friend, Pancho. I couldn’t stand watching the sunset alone.”
    “That bad, huh?” Ellie was smiling.
    “That bad,” he agreed hopefully.
    “I was just thinking, the cafe is closed on Mondays. I usually drive up to see my grandmother. Why don’t we have dinner? It doesn’t have to be fancy, a barbecue on the beach would be fine.”
    Dan laughed. “You’re talking to a city slicker here, I don’t think I ever saw a barbecue in Times Square, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with one anymore.”
    “Then I’ll just have to teach you, Danny Boy. You can’t be a Californian and not know how to sling a steak onto the grill. Don’t worry, I’ll bring the fixings, you chill the wine.”
    “At least I know something about that.”
    “You’d better,” she said, mockingly. “Around seven then, Monday?”
    He gave her the address and said sincerely, “I’m looking forward to it, Ellie.”
    “Me too.” She kept her voice deliberately cool. “See you tomorrow, Danny Boy. Around seven.”
    He waited for her to disconnect, then poured a glass of Cakebread chardonnay. Leaning on the deck rail, he watched the sky turn midnight blue, until the ocean finallyblended into the horizon. He hoped one day he would make a wine as good as the one he was drinking, and wondered where he could buy a barbecue tomorrow. Life felt pretty good.
    “You really did it!” Maya, who’d been eavesdropping again, appeared at Ellie’s elbow. “I’ll lend you my new Versace. Bright red and clinging. It’ll look great with your hair.”
    “What are you doing, buying Versace? You can’t afford it.”
    “Don’t you know it’s the Sales, woman. They’re on everywhere. You want it? It’s yours.”
    “I’m bringing steaks, he’s barbecuing them. Not exactly a Versace kind of night. But thanks anyway, I know your intentions were entirely dishonorable.”
    “I just want you to have fun.” There was a wistful edge to Maya’s voice, and Ellie could see she really meant it.
    A little wellspring of excitement bubbled inside her, like champagne.