Bob at the Plaza Read Free Page A

sighed, snuggling into my seat.
    “Snowmeggedon. That’s what the weather broadcasters are calling this,” David said as he set the truck in gear and backed out to the pitch-black road.
    “It feels like it will never end. I’ve never seen snow like this before.”
    “Well, you wouldn’t in Nashville, would you?” David grinned to himself even as he kept an alert eye out for patches of black ice.
    I’d never seen nights as dark as these winter evenings in the country. Miles from any town, barren of streetlights or sidewalks, stars glistened with an energy I’d never imagined. David drove into the black night guided solely by the truck’s powerful headlights.
    “Smart aleck.” I smacked him playfully on his arm. “Don’t forget I’ve lived in Chicago and New Jersey and Connecticut, too. But I’ve never seen snow like this.”
    “I don’t think you feel the weather so much when you live in a town.” David slowed before navigating an icy curve in the road, then accelerated. “In a city, the plows clear the roads, and you have public transit and sidewalks. Out here you’re mostly on your own.”
    “Yeah, I guess.”
    After fine-tuning the amount of air blasting from the heating vents, David asked, “So how’s your work going? You finishing up those entries you told me about?”
    “With luck, I’ll have the first one in the mail tomorrow. I’ll be glad to kiss that sucker goodbye.”
    “I thought you liked doing them?” he asked in a surprised voice.
    “Oh, I do, and I sure love having the paycheck, but they’re long, very detailed projects. Working on those submissions can wear you out. Especially when you pile this never-ending snow on top of them. Speaking of snow, Stan came over this morning to help me with my daily shoveling.”
    “He’s a good neighbor.” David nodded in silent approval. “How’s he doing without Mary?”
    “He misses her so much. He came in for some coffee after shoveling and he told me how he gets up in the middle of the night and plays solitaire.”
    “I know it’s rough.” David became quiet for a minute as we drove through the dark night, probably remembering the months after he’d lost Beth, his young wife, to ovarian cancer. He paused for a moment at the one traffic light between my house and town, then proceeded through the empty intersection. “Too bad I don’t know any older single women I could introduce him to.”
    “I think it’s too early for that. But Stan did say he’d go to the Spring Concert with us, so that’s a good sign.”
    “Yeah, I suppose.”
    After a ten-minute stretch driving along the dark shores of the frozen lake, David steered into the pizzeria’s brightly lit parking lot, dodging the worst potholes and bouncing over ice-filled ridges. Once out of the truck, we skated over slick patches, clutching each other, and then burst into the warm, crowded dining room. My glasses immediately fogged up, so I grabbed David’s coat to follow his lead.
    “Hey, there’s Bev and Gino,” David said, pausing inside the door and scanning the busy room. “You want to join them?”
    “Sure, sounds great.” Peering over the top of my glasses, I could vaguely make out colorful blobs that might be Bev and Gino sitting in a booth in the corner. Gino waved us over. Still clutching David’s coat, I followed him through the aisles of the bright pizzeria, crowded with dangling coats and kids playing with trucks under the tables.
    Bev was the first friend I’d made after moving to the lake, not counting Bob, of course. We’d met tasting wines at Royal Egret, a well-known Crooked Lake winery. Since Gino grew grapes, he received a sizable industry discount, which Bev shared with me. We’d been fast friends ever since. Together Bev and I had explored several local wineries in the fall, and she invited David and me to sing in Avondale’s Community Chorus. Slim, gray-haired retirees, Bev and Gino enjoyed grandkids, wine, and singing—in that