away. You apparently enjoy picking on me, but please know that I’m a fragile being with sensitive feelings.”
“And an awful mustache.” Claire couldn’t help but poke at him some. It was too much fun.
“Ouch.” He covered his mustache as if she was about to attack it.
Claire burst into laughter. “You know I’m kidding.”
“I’m glad knocking me down lifts you up.” She could tell by his smile that he was having fun too. He handled being tormented well, almost welcomed it.
“I’m only teasing,” she promised. “Please forgive me. But what is this mustache thing anyway? Some sort of statement piece?”
“I guess you could call it that. David bought a bike; I grew this. Same thing.”
Another shared smile.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Whitaker asked.
“I can see the appeal for other men your age. If you’re looking for a girlfriend, you might want to rethink it.”
Whitaker smiled the smile of a man who’d spent a long time thinking about relationships and had endured the pain of lost love. “Most certainly not looking for a girlfriend. Maybe the mustache is my deterrent. Like how a single woman wears a ring.”
Claire glanced at the rings and felt her shoulders slump. For an instant, she felt a defensive anger, almost rage, bubble up, but thankfully she caught it just in time and held her tongue.
Whitaker followed her eyes to her finger. “Oh gosh. I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed. “I feel like a jerk. I was talking about women in general—”
Claire took in a long breath. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”
Miguel appeared, saving the couple from any further awkwardness. He uncorked the bottle and offered Whitaker the first taste. He sniffed and nodded. “That’ll do, my friend.”
Once Miguel left the table, Whitaker apologized again, and then raised his glass to Claire. “To David.”
She clinked his glass with hers. “To David.”
They both drank to her husband and the gift he’d left.
After enjoying a sniff and sip but not making too much of a spectacle like some wine snobs, Whitaker said, “I’ll try not to put my foot in my mouth again, though we may have to explore some uncomfortable spots. I don’t know that I have the chops that I used to, but I’ll tell you this. I will pour my heart into this project and treat it exactly like it’s my own.”
The reality of David’s book coming to life suddenly struck her, and she felt like crying and leaping for joy at the same time. Claire took another small sip and set her wineglass down. “I know you will.”
Whitaker jumped right back into the guts of Claire’s life. “How was your marriage?”
Claire tensed and felt almost combative as the area between her eyebrows tightened. “What kind of question is that? This story has nothing to do with our marriage.”
Whitaker put up both his hands apologetically. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Seeing the kindness and gentleness in his eyes, she knew he truly meant no harm. Claire took another long breath and shook it off. Apparently his mouth didn’t come with a filter. She could either accept working with him and all his peculiarities or get up now and walk away.
No, Claire had to trust her instincts, the ones that had led her to him in the first place. And in doing so, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t prying; he was helping.
“No, it’s fine,” she finally said. “I don’t mean to be defensive. Our marriage was great, like better than ever. We’d already passed our rough spots and were in a strong place. We were having a lot of fun.”
Taking a welcome divergence, Whitaker asked, “Any idea where he drummed up this story? Saving a boy in a group home. Orlando. Sarasota. It’s an impressive premise, the whole idea of a sad and lonely man finding purpose in helping a young man who deserves a lift up in life.”
“Yeah, it’s beautiful. And, yes, I do feel like he wrote the book as some sort of cathartic exercise.” By now Claire knew the answer all too well, having exhausted the idea that this book was how David had experienced being a father.
“You alluded to it earlier,” Whitaker said. “Please elaborate.”
More laughter came from the other table, and Claire was tempted to turn around and tell them to keep it down.
Claire crossed her right leg over her left and folded her arms. “David always wanted to be a dad. It was his dream for so long,