WINNIE

“Tell me about your fiancé.”

It was almost three o’clock and we were sitting at an outdoor table at a restaurant on the River Walk, waiting for our meal.  We sat right by the water.  “Is that one of the questions?” I asked, referring to the list of questions in our information packet.

“No.  I’m just interested.”

“Well, his name is Shawn.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s about your height, but his hair is lighter.”  He probably weighed a little more than Philip, too.  Shawn wasn’t overweight, he just wasn’t as muscular and trim as Philip.

“What does he do for a living?”

“He owns a Tex Mex restaurant in town.”

“Which one?  Have I heard of it?”

“Probably not.  There’s just the one location.  It’s called Alamo Beans.”

Philip smiled, amused.  “Alamo Beans?”

I agreed that it was an amusing name, but sometimes quirky names worked for restaurants, making them memorable.  Besides, not everyone was lucky to be born with the last name of Nilsson and inherit a ton of five-star hotels.  Shawn was a self-made man, and I admired that.  I said, “It’s a vegetarian Tex Mex restaurant.  Absolutely no animal products.”

Philip raised one eyebrow.  “Is the food any good?”

I laughed.  I was beginning to see that Philip Nilsson liked to get to heart of a problem – cutting through the extraneous to find what was important.  I said, “Not particularly, but then, I’m not their target market.  Personally, I like lard in my refried beans, and I think meatless fajitas should be a crime.”

“Meatless fajitas?  How can that be?”

“Shawn replaces the meat with either beans or mushrooms.”

Philip said, “And no cheese?”

“No cheese.”

Phillip said dryly, “Then I think I will avoid Alamo Beans, unless you wish to go there tonight for dinner?”

“No,” I said.  I didn’t want to tell Shawn about my adventure until it was over, and I had won the two thousand dollars.

“How did you and Shawn meet?” Philip asked.

“I was at a party and friends introduced us.”

“Was it love at first sight?”

“No.  I don’t believe in that, do you?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, which I found odd.

I thought he might ask more follow-up questions, but then our waiter brought our food. A large porterhouse steak for Philip and a bowl of broccoli soup with a salad on the side for me.

Philip’s steak sizzled, and it smelled delicious.  I must have leaned forward to smell it, for he said, “Do you want to split this?”

“No, thank you,” I said quickly.  “I’ll eat my own food.”

“While you salivate over mine?”

I said, “You’re right.  I am envious.  I wish I could eat steak.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m marrying Shawn and he’s a devout vegetarian.”

“Does he insist that you avoid meat, too?”

“No, but he watches those animal rights videos, and it’s always uncomfortable when I eat meat and he doesn’t.  I decided it was best to eat the same way he did.  Simpler.”

Philip cut a large bite of steak, which required the temporary use of my right hand, and then speared the bite with his unused salad fork.  “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” he asked and offered it to me.

He was tempting me.  I wanted to eat steak, but I also knew that Shawn wouldn’t like it.  But Shawn wasn’t here.  And perhaps this was my last chance to eat steak, I rationalized.

“All right,” I said.  “Just one bite.”

That one bite was fantastic – hot and juicy – and I groaned a little as I ate it.  I’d forgotten how wonderful a fine cut of beef could be.

“That good, huh?” Philip teased.

I looked around and made sure no one else had heard me making noises while I ate.  My mother would be appalled.  Making noises was so unladylike.  I said, “That’s really good.”

Philip raised his free hand to get our waiter’s attention.  “Another steak, please,” he ordered.

“You don’t have to,” I protested, but when the waiter asked, “How do you want it cooked?” I succumbed and said, “Medium Rare.”

Philip smiled.

While we ate, we went through some of the questions on our list.  We talked about our childhoods.  We both had two siblings:  he had two bothers and was the middle son.  I had a younger brother and sister.  I went to public school in Red Oak, and he attended private school in London.

He also had nannies and got a new car for his sixteenth birthday.

I spoke enough Spanish to understand half of what I overheard in public, whereas he spoke Spanish and French fluently and had a smattering of Chinese.  “That’s impressive,” I said.

He shrugged.  “It’s business.”

“Did you always know that you wanted to work for the family business?” I asked.

“Yes.  I find it fascinating and satisfying.”

He was a lucky man.  He sounded a bit like Shawn, who was also dedicated to his business.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I never knew what I wanted, so I’ve done a lot of things.  I worked as a receptionist at a doctor’s office.  I worked in a pet supplies store.  I sold skin care products and make-up for a while until that company was bought out by another.”

“Did you ever go to college?”

“I took a few classes at the community college, but since I never knew what I wanted to study, there didn’t seem to be much point in it.  I read a lot though.  I’m always learning things.”  I asked him if he had gone to college.

“Columbia undergrad and Harvard MBA.”

That didn’t surprise me.

He asked, “What do you like best about working for Nilsson?”

“Right now, I like looking at the banquet halls, when everything is set up.  All the tables with their crisp tablecloths.  The napkins arranged just so.  The china gleaming.”

“You like the dinner parties.”

“I do.”

“Do you see yourself becoming the Banquet Coordinator down the line?”

“Maybe.”

He asked about my other interests and I told him that I had a YouTube channel where I talked about beautifying one’s life.

He asked what the name of the channel was.

“Pretty City Gal,” I said and then when he started to look it up on his phone, I said, “No.  Please.  Not yet.  I use my name there all the time, and I want you to guess it first.”

“All right,” he said and glanced briefly at his phone, which lay on the table, so he could use it one-handed.  “Willow?”

“No.”

“Winter?”

I laughed.  “No.  Is anyone really named Winter?”

He said, “Some women are named Summer.  Wanda?”

I was enjoying this.  “No.”

“Winona?”

“I think there’s only one Winona.”

“Wilhelmina.”

He was very good at this guessing game, which made me suspicious.  “Wait a second,” I said and reached across the table to look at his phone screen.  “You cheater! You looked up W girl names online.”

“I did,” he confessed.  “But I consider it research, not cheating.  Now, give me back my phone.”

I held his phone high, out of his reach with my left hand.  “Not until you guess my name.  Without help.”

He said, “Then we might spend the remainder of our time, sitting here, with you holding my phone.  Our presentation tomorrow is going to be very boring.  And your arm is going to get very tired.”

“I don’t care.”

He thought for a minute.  “Wallis?” he guessed.

“No.”

At that moment, a family sitting next to us got up to leave.  The tables were crowded and there was barely any room between the chairs.  The mom was carrying a car seat, and while maneuvering past me, she knocked my arm and Philip’s phone went flying.

It fell into the river water with a quiet plop.

“Oh no!” I cried, feeling terrible.  “Your phone.”

Philip stood and looked down in the dark water.  “It’s lost now,” he said matter-of-factly.  “And even if we could retrieve it, it would be ruined.”

I knew that.  I’d ruined a phone once when it went through the washing machine.  “I am so sorry,” I said, knowing that my apologies were inadequate.

The woman with the baby said she was sorry, too.  “Don’t worry about it,” Philip said graciously, and the young family went on their way.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

He said, “I’ll use your phone to call my assistant, and I’ll have a replacement at the hotel before dinner.  All my contact information is downloaded, so I haven’t lost anything.”

I was impressed.  I wish I had an assistant that would solve my problems so easily.

He continued.  “Until then, I suppose, I’ll be living off the grid.  Which is probably good for me.”

I watched as he returned to his seat and continued to eat, seemingly without a care.  I already knew that Philip Nilsson was nice guy, but this was amazing to me.  If I’d ruined Shawn’s phone, he wouldn’t forget the matter so easily.  But I supposed Philip losing an iPhone was like my losing a nickel.

Earlier that afternoon, after removing my pantyhose, we had each taken a bathroom break, which was horrendously embarrassing.  Even with our eyes closed and singing out loud, we could still hear each other.

If it weren’t for the two-thousand-dollar prize, I would have quit right then and there.

Philip, however, had been a perfect gentleman, not making any rude jokes, as my brother Howard would have, if he were in the same situation.

And now I’d lost his phone.

“My name’s Winnie,” I said bluntly.

“Winnie?”

“Winnie.  Like Winnie the Pooh, but I’m not a teddy bear.”

“You were named after a teddy bear?”

“No, actually, I was named after a pretty girl in a television show.  The Wonder Years.”

He smiled.  “I never heard of it.”

Perhaps he’d been in Europe at the time or had been too young to watch it.

He looked at me thoughtfully.  “Winnie.  It’s a cute name.  It suits you.  It’s better than W. J.”

For an instant I wondered if he was saying he thought I was cute, but I dismissed that thought.  I said, “When I was younger, I was teased mercilessly.  Either I was called Pooh Bear, or kids would make horse noises.”

He frowned, then said, “Ah.  Whinny.  I get it.”

“Exactly.”

“Children can be cruel.”

“Were you teased?”

“Some,” he said.  “I think every child has their griefs or difficulties.  It’s part of growing up.”

“What was yours?”

“Being the richest kid in the room.  Never knowing if someone liked me for myself.”

I like you, I thought, but didn’t say it.

We finished eating, and Philip took out his wallet to pay for the meal.  “It’s a good thing it was only my phone that ended up in the river.  Without my wallet, I’d have problems.”

“If you lost your wallet, I’d pay for lunch.”

He looked at me closely with an odd expression on his face.  “Thanks,” he said lightly.

He then borrowed my phone to call his assistant, but before he could make the call, there was an incoming call for me.

He handed me the phone and I looked at the caller ID.  It was my sister, Jenna.  I accepted the call, fully intending to tell her that I was busy, and I would talk to her later that night.

But instead of the inconsequential chit chat that we usually exchanged, she wailed, “Winnie!  My water broke!