Billy reached across the table and took her hand. “This is Lindy, the woman I mentioned earlier.”
“Ah yes,” Dan said, his gaze welcoming, revealing a bit of intrigue, as if he knew something she didn’t. “It’s a pleasure, Lindy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, and again, thank you for finding us a table for tonight.”
“My joy, sweet lady.”
Billy leaned forward, pressing his midsection against the table. In a stage whisper, he said, “I didn’t tell him about your letter to Santa.”
“What’s this about a letter?” Dan pried.
“What would you recommend off the menu?” Lindy asked, gently kicking Billy under the table.
“Ouch,” he cried, pretending she’d mortally wounded him. “It’s nothing,” he told his friend, and then added in another stage whisper, “I’ll tell you later.”
Dan laughed and turned his attention to Lindy. “I highly recommend the rouladen and the sp?tzle with purple cabbage. It’s one of our signature dishes. You can’t go wrong.”
“I’ve heard of sp?tzle, but not rouladen.”
“It’s thinly sliced beef, layered with bacon and sliced onion, and then rolled around a thick slice of pickle. Trust me, Lindy, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have.”
Lindy did well to have taken Dan’s word, as the dinner was everything she’d hoped it would be. They lingered over a dessert called donauwelle. Dan explained that it was basically pound cake flavored with vanilla. Then the top was filled with cherries, a thick layer of buttercream, along with a thin covering of chocolate ganache. Every bite was pure heaven. The meal was finished with a cup of decaf coffee.
Dan escorted them to the door once they were ready to leave and handed them their coats. He took Lindy’s hand and kissed it. “Meeting you was a delight,” he said.
“Hey, buddy,” Billy teased, “that’s my girl.”
His girl! Lindy couldn’t have hidden her smile if she’d tried.
“The French side of his family comes out every now and again,” Billy said, as he placed his arm around Lindy’s waist and steered her out the back entrance, where he’d parked the truck.
Billy helped her inside, then walked around the front. Once inside, he started the engine and let it warm up enough to clear the frost off the windshield.
“I had the most marvelous day,” Lindy told him, and it was the truth. Every aspect of their afternoon and evening had been simply wonderful. Even seeing Brian with Celeste hadn’t hampered her time. This day would be one she long treasured.
“I don’t want it to end,” Billy said.
“I don’t, either.”
“Good. Let’s stop off at the Wine Press. There’s a special ice wine I’d like you to taste. It’s a favorite of mine, and I think you’ll enjoy it, too.”
Ice wine would be a treat. The grapes could be harvested only in climates where temperatures dropped to below freezing. The grapes were kept on the vine to sweeten until the first frost of the season. They were then handpicked, generally in the dark of night, after the grapes had frozen. The excessively sweet wine wasn’t to everyone’s taste. Lindy happened to like it. The bottles were narrow and thin, and often expensive, due to the labor costs.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“It’ll give me a chance to check in with the night manager, too. It might be my day off, but I make a habit of checking in at some point during the day.”
The responsibility of being an owner/operator must weigh heavily on Billy. It told her he didn’t likely have time for a relationship, not with him working six days a week. Even on his day off, he ran interference. The restaurant was constantly on his mind, as it should be. Billy understood this could be only a holiday romance. She was of the same mind.
Even though it was after eight, the restaurant was busy; every seat at the bar was taken. Billy secured a table and left Lindy while he went to check in with the manager. When he returned, he had the bottle of ice wine and two special glasses that resembled miniature wineglasses.
He sat next to her and poured them each a small amount. “A little goes a long way with ice wine,” he said. Again, the wine was one from Washington State. Only northern climates had the necessary temperatures cold enough to produce ice wine.
“The Toronto area has some wonderful ice wines as well,” he said, as he gently clinked his glass against hers.