She hurried off, and Lineberry slowly went through the screens on the iPad with the aid of a pair of reading specs pulled from his jacket pocket. “Do you have a preference? Italian, French, Spanish, Argentinian, perhaps Napa or Sonoma?”
“So long as it’s wet, I’m good to go.”
Lineberry chuckled and made his selection, inputting it on the electronic device.
He put away his glasses and sat back as Wendy came over and handed them their menus.
“Your wine will be up shortly. Would you like it decanted?”
“For this one, yes. It needs to breathe a bit.”
“Yes sir.”
She brought two stemmed wineglasses and some warm fresh bread and dipping oils, and then rushed off again.
“She seems a little nervous around you,” noted Pine.
He shrugged. “I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m some high-maintenance ass who thinks way too much of himself.”
“I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if you were.”
“I treat people like I want to be treated. With respect.”
“I’m sure my parents appreciated that.”
He took a bit of bread and dipped it into the oil. “I would like to think they did,” he said thoughtfully.
“This is a beautiful little private space. Do you usually eat in this alcove?”
“I like the privacy,” he said simply.
“Do the curtains close?” Pine said, and then wondered why she had asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had occasion to find out.”
“What was it like finding my dad’s body?”
This so caught the man off guard that he choked a bit on his bread. He swallowed some water and cleared his throat.
Pine said, “Okay, sorry, that was the worst segue ever.”
“No…it’s fine. It’s perfectly understandable for you to be curious.”
He sat back and wiped his fingers with his napkin. “It was horrible, Lee, if you want to know the truth. I’d never seen a dead body before. Not like that. And I hope to God I never do again.”
“I’m sure.”
“I guess in your line of work you see many…deceased people.”
“I do, yes, unfortunately.”
“Does it ever get any easier?”
Pine thought back to the body of Frankie Gomez. “Not necessarily, no.”
“Well, that might actually be a good thing. I mean, if you get desensitized to something like that, well, I don’t think that’s a good development personally.”
“I would agree with that.”
He looked at her keenly. “I didn’t mention this before, but you look quite lovely. I mean, very beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
He looked away, obviously uncomfortable with his comments. “I…hesitate sometimes to say that anymore to a woman. I mean, there are so many men who push the bounds.…Well, I’m sure you see that a lot in your work. Isn’t the FBI still very much a male world?”
“Yes. But things are slowly changing for the better. And we should never get to the point where a person can’t respectfully compliment another person.”
“Agreed,” he said, his smile returning.
“Which is why I’ll tell you that you look very distinguished.”
He smiled resignedly. “That’s a good word, distinguished. It must be my white hair.”
“Men get distinguished. Women just get older.”
“Another unfairness in life.”
When the wine came and was poured out, they clinked glasses. Pine took a tentative sip.
“Wow, that has a pop.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure that’s a correct wine term.”
“It is correct if that’s how you perceive it. And just so you know, I’ve used that description before myself.”
“What wine is it?”
“An Amarone, from Verona in Italy. The process for this grape entails special harvesting and drying methods. That brings the tannins and flavor intensity to the finished wine.” He smiled self-consciously. “And that concludes my little lecture on wine.”
“No, it’s fascinating. I wish I knew more about it.”
“Just wait a bit as this wine oxygenates and opens more. You’ll get an even bigger pop!”
They ordered, and their courses were delivered in an unhurried manner. The owner came to check on them twice, and no bill was presented at the end.
Pine said, “So do you get free meals here or what?”
“I have an account. It just streamlines things.”
“Okay.”
“If you’re ever in Atlanta and need somewhere to crash, I have a little place here, in Buckhead. Please feel free to stay there.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Pine said, averting her gaze from his.
“I’m not just saying that. I would be honored.”
Pine didn’t say anything for a few seconds as she composed the question she had wanted to ask all evening.
“When was the last time you saw my mother?”
He took a drink of his wine and wiped his lips with his napkin. He positioned the salt and pepper shakers just so in