The D word

My workload became crazy today. My favorite person to do work for—Henry—was in my office most of the day talking to me about a new project he wants to launch. He needs help putting together the proposal that is needed by the end of the month. It’s large, complicated and will require the input and cooperation of about eight people, some from outside our organization. I’ll have to work weekends if I’m going to help him and stay on top of my regular workload. Fortunately, I don’t mind working extra hours when it’s for Henry. We work so well together, it’s always a pleasure. Plus, he makes me laugh. And since Christmas he also comes with puppy pictures (he gave his wife a yellow lab).

Before all that happened...

First thing, Eve appeared in my doorway. I was just hanging up my coat. “Good morning!” I chirped. I walked around the desk and Eve made herself comfortable in the guest chair. “What have you got going on today?” I asked.

“Not a lot. Did you and Blaine stay long at [Sports Bar]?” OK, then. Right to it.

“Hey,” I said with exaggerated concern, “how was Izzy when you got home? Did she make it all three hours OK?”

“Why, yes. Yes, she did. And thank you for asking.” She laughed.

“No ulterior motive for inviting Blaine, huh?”

“None.” A canary-eating grin betrayed her.

“We didn’t stay long. Finished our beer is all.” That was true. I was having fun making her work for it, but I was also deciding whether sharing would complicate matters. It probably would, but not saying something at this stage would too. “We might get together Saturday at a winery if Blaine can get a reservation for a tasting.”

Eve’s arms shot into the air, the sign of a touchdown. “I knew it! I knew you two needed to meet.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t get carried away. It isn’t a date.”

“What do you mean it isn’t a date?”

“We’re just...doing something.”

“Together?”

“Of course.”

“With anyone else accompanying you?”

I wasn’t going to bother answering that, but she rolled her hand to mean out loud, please. “No.”

As if she were breaking a hard truth to me, she said, “That’s a date.”

It isn’t.

After lunch my cell phone buzzed with an incoming call. Henry had just gotten back to my office to continue the morning meeting but he was still unpacking his laptop. I asked if he minded me taking the call. He offered to step out but all I wanted to do was ask Blaine if I could call him back.

“Sure,” Blaine said. “I did get reservations for the afternoon. I’ll give you the details later.”

It was 4:00 when I was able to call him back. The winery is about a 40 minute drive from the edge of the city. Automatically, I calculated the 80 minutes we’ll have to fill with conversation. Before I could say anything, he offered, “We can stay closer to the city if you prefer.”

“I trust your choice, and I’ve never minded a road trip.”

Once the details were worked out, he said, “It’s a date.”

It isn’t.