Across from him, Cora found her voice, leaned forward and quietly said, “Well, I might have…”
And then stopped, but Paolo couldn’t help her finish the sentence – he had no idea what went in the blanks this time.
“I…don’t really know what to say. I mean yeah Benjamin Lafitte is my father but…I’m not legitimate,” Cora finally said, splaying out her fingers in a motion that indicated smoothing something over. Paolo had no idea what that was supposed to mean.
“Him and me we…don’t really get along, so if you’re thinking I can influence any of your business dealings…”
“I’m not,” Paolo filled in, quickly, wanting it laid out in plain view.
“Good, because apart from about half my DNA, we don’t have much in common,” Cora said, sounding calm, but with eyes firmly fixed on her hands.
Paolo let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. She had confided in him of her own free will and let him know her deepest fear. Being used for advantage with her father. He wondered how she felt about just generally being used to exact revenge on that bastard. Well…they would soon find out.
“Okay, I’m okay with that.” He said truthfully, feeling pretty proud. That’d gone well.
Now that it was over and done with, Paolo was willing to move on, talk about the benefit and how gorgeous she’d looked in her gown. Also the surprise he had in store for her for the dinner he’d purchased.
Except, Cora smiled at him, nodded slightly, and asked,
“… And you?”
“Excuse me?“
“You ask me a lot of questions about me. But what about you?”
He had missed a turn in this conversation, somehow. He stared at Cora for a long time. He became aware of his hand with his fork halfway to his mouth and put it down with a clink on his mostly empty plate. “What about me what?”
Paolo watched the bronze glow suffuse her skin, highlighting the prairie sunset tinge perfectly.
“Are you… I mean, who are you? Who is Paolo Agnelli?”
He stared at Cora in incomprehension.
“Well, Cora, I’m Italian”
“I kinda got that, Paolo.”
“And most of my family resides there apart from my sister. I run the family business and I’m looking into ways to expand into America. I’m very single, no kids, no ex-wife. Just a mother, a sister, a brother and a deadbeat dad,” Paolo could practically see her heart melting from where he sat at the last statement. She could relate to absentee fathers. She leaned in, covering his hand with hers.
Cora was about to say something more, but then suddenly Chandler was by their table, clearing off their empty plates. Paolo wondered if he had heard anything. It didn’t seem like it, he smiled at them, asked them if they wanted desserts, coffee.
Hell no, Paolo just wanted to take this conversation somewhere else.
Standing up he put down a couple of twenty-dollar bills on the table, leaving a tip big enough for Chandler to suddenly shift his attention from Cora to him, and walked around to push Cora’s chair back, gesturing for her to lead the way out. Cora stood up immediately, and stepped away from the table.
They walked out in silence, but as soon as the restaurant door closed behind them, Paolo turned to face Cora.
“Look, Cora, I appreciate you coming out with me tonight. I’d like to do it again if you’re interested.”
“Sure I’m interested; I thought I’d made that pretty clear. The question is, what are you interested in? Me or my name?” All of a sudden Cora looked pale and unhappy. Damn, he hadn’t meant to dredge up sad memories, but it was just… Something was off with this conversation, and Paolo couldn’t really figure out what. He started off down the street towards the corvette, longing to be lulled in the calming routine of being behind the wheel.
“Paolo. Wait. I’m sorry. I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s just…”
And finally Paolo was able to pinpoint what was so weird about this conversation.
“Cora, I told you I’m not. Don’t tell me you are arguing the point.”
“Actually Paolo, you…”
One look at Paolo’s face and Cora cut herself off. They reached the car and Paolo unlocked it. They got inside and buckled up in silence.
And then Cora surprised him by saying, “Paolo, I’m sorry.”
The teacher was sitting up straight, hands on his thighs, eyes fixed on something straight ahead, looking tight-lipped and forlorn.
“I didn’t mean to be, ah, niggling… Only, it would seem that I have been laboring under a misapprehension. I thought that you, that we…” She trailed off, seeming at a loss for words, which was as un-Cora like as Paolo had come to know. Cora straightened up even further in her seat, and cast a visibly nervous glance at Paolo. “I was hoping that your dinner invitation this evening carried with it some implications that I see now were entirely imagined on my part. Obviously I haven’t made my, ah, advances clear enough to you.”
Paolo had already opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, when all of a sudden he got it: Cora thought he wasn’t interested in her? That she was the one making moves on him? Paolo almost laughed. Cora smiling at him, wide and warm.
Oh.
“Indeed,” Cora replied, so he must have said that out loud.
Paolo started up the car with clumsy fingers, waiting a while before saying anything. He got himself settled into the calming routine of driving, handling the wheel, checking the mirrors. Turning onto Michigan Avenue, he wondered briefly where he was supposed to go, deciding to just drive straight ahead for now.
“So what you’re saying is, you were putting the moves on me?”
Paolo looked at Cora out of the corner of his eye and saw her go through the entire catalog of nervous ticks: Sigh, sharp intake of breath, thumb across eyebrow, a sliver of tongue darting out to the corner of his mouth.
“Yes, I believe so, Paolo.” Cora was looking more and more miserable by the minute. He turned his eyes back to the road, saw the turn-off, indicated a left turn and made it, nice and smooth.