Carlotta sighed, looking at the empty tables in his restaurant as sheets of rain splashed against his windowpane. Tuesday night was a slow night, but he had a pretty good crowd. It had been a tough year, what with the governor shutting down the diners because of the virus. The only thriving business, Carlotta thought, was the cemetery across the street. A lot of good people had gone there, like Sam.
Carlotta’s eyes scanned his dining room lighting on the table with the “Reserved” sign waiting for one special lady he knew would be here. She would come and sit alone for the first time in 30 years.
Hearing the door chime, Carlotta turned and said, “Ah, Mrs. Martin,” greeting a middle-age lady wearing glasses with streaks of gray in her brown shoulder-length hair.
Brushing the rain off her coat. Sarah Martin gave Carlotta a weak smile and said, “Thank you. You are kind to have remembered.”
“I have your table ready.”
Nodding, Sarah followed him to the table where he seated her, laying her coat on an empty chair, “San Magee Red, as I recall.”
“You have a good memory, Mr. Carlotta,” Sarah said, fumbling her words.
“I know,” Carlotta said patting her shoulder. “Enjoy your wine.”
“I hope you take cards. I forgot to get cash. Sam always …”
“No problem,” Carlotta smiled waving to a waiter. “Michael will take care of you. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”
In a minute a young man with dark hair and pearly white teeth came up to the table carrying the bottle of wine and a single glass.
“I am Michael. It will be my pleasure to serve you.” He showed her the bottle. “Shall I uncork and pour?”
“No,” Sarah said. “I need another glass. One at the other setting.”
“As you wish,” Michael said, returning with another glass. He poured the ruby-red liquid into her glass.
“Wine for the other setting,” Sarah said looking at the empty glass.
Confused, Michael poured the wine into the second glass as Sarah said, like a prayer, “Halfway. Not too much, not too little, but enough.”
“Anything else?”
“No, Michael,” Sarah said looking at her glass. Her tears dropped on the white tablecloth.
“As you wish,” Michael retreated. Sarah did not see him leave. Instead, she watched a man in a gray suit with a red rose pinned to his lapel who said, “Is this seat taken?” Sarah knew him in an instant by his loving lips and his black-frame glasses hiding his gray eyes.
“Oh, Sam.”
“There’s my bride,” Sam said, sliding into the chair. “Pretty as a picture, fresh as a spring rain.”
“I hoped you’d come but …”
“Let’s not talk about that. We’ve only missed two of our wine dates in 30 years.”
“Yes,” Sarah said sipping her wine. “I remember them both. You were in the Navy, out in the Pacific, and the second when Katie came early. You scoundrel.”
Sam laughed as she scolded him. “You brought the wine to the hospital, and I couldn’t have any. You gave me grape juice,” Sarah said.
“Sarah, we had so much fun,” Sam said, raising his glass and looking at the wine. “Halfway. Not too much, not too little, but enough.” Sam sipped his wine, his gray eyes never leaving Sarah’s smile.
“I propose a toast: To the easiest woman in the world to love.”
“The man of my dreams,” Sarah said, raising her glass to touch Sam’s.
Sam put his hand over hers. “I’ll love you forever,” he said.
Michael approached Mr. Carlotta, who was enjoying his glass of claret.
“Mr. Carlotta,” Michael said, “what’s the story with two glasses?”
“Love story,” Carlotta said picking up his glass and swirling the dark red liquid around, letting the fragrance fill his nose and mind. “Sarah and Sam Martin were in love. They came in here 30 years ago and sat at the same table.
“Sam said, ‘I know car engines, but I don’t know wine.’ Same wine, same table, same gray suit with a red rose bud pinned in his lapel.” Carlotta took a sip of wine before continuing. “Sam taught auto repair down at the high school. Got so good at it that kids from four counties wanted to learn from Sam. Sarah taught math besides raising their three kids—two boys and Katie. Happy people until this April.”
“What happened?” Michael asked.
Another waiter came up to Michael. tapping him on his shoulder, “Table six needs their check,” he said.
“Go on,” Carlotta said. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”
Out in the dining room, Sarah laughed at one of Sam’s corny jokes. On the way back, Michael stopped beside Mrs. Martin and asked, “Need anything?”
“No,” she said shaking her head. “We’re fine.”
Puzzled by her reply, Michael noticed the wine bottle. She must really like the wine, he thought.
“Tell me the rest,” Michael said when he slid into a chair across from Carlotta.
“On Friday, the 15th of April, Sam visited the VA Hospital. Outside, a kid asked Sam for a light. Sam didn’t smoke but lit the kid’s cigarette. Two things happened. First, the kid coughed on Sam. The kid had the virus and gave it to Sam. Second, on the way home, Sam spotted a lady with a flat tire in the rain. He fixed it and got soaking wet. By Sunday, when Sarah returned home, Sam was sick. The ambulance came and whisked Sam off to the hospital. Ten days later, Sam’s gone. People from miles around came to the funeral. Buried him at St. Luke’s across the street.”
“I remember,” Michael said. “I thought they was burying the Pope.”
Out in the dining room, Sam looked at his watch, the half-empty bottle of wine, and Sarah. “I have to go,” he said.
“Sam, must you?” Sarah said, feeling the tears. “I’m lost. The boys have their lives. Katie doesn’t talk to me. She blames me. I need you.”
“No, my love,” Sam said getting up. “You are needed more than you know.” He picked up her hand and kissed it, smiling. “Your phone is ringing,” he said.
Sarah Martin slid her phone out of her purse and watched Sam head toward the door while answering her phone, “Hello.”
“Mommy!” Katie cried. “Help me. I’m in trouble.”
“Of course, Katie,” Sarah Martin threw on her coat heading out the door into the rain unaware that Michael was calling her name.
“Mr. Carlotta,” Michael said. “I thought the lady ran out without paying. This is weird.”
Carlotta asked while shaking his head, “What’s weird?”
“First, I poured two glasses.”
“So?”
Mr. Carlotta,” Michael said. “I cleared the table. On one glass, there’s lipstick. The other the glass is empty except for rose petals inside and a folded 50-dollar bill under it. Second, I didn’t see nobody sitting across from her, and the bottle is half gone.”
“Forget it,” Carlotta said looking across the street. “For 30 years, Sam paid with a 50-dollar bill under his glass and rose petals inside.”
Later, Carlotta watched a car’s headlights illuminating the cemetery’s white marble tombstones as raindrops spattered his window. Raising his glass, Carlotta smiled, saying, “Halfway, not too little, not too much, but love never dies.”
2024 Finalist Submission for Penned: Fiction