Apple Pie

He straightened his tie hopelessly, aware that his hair was unkempt and his pressed blue shirt had undergone several wrinkle-inducing changes and perhaps the odd paw-print upon his contact with a particularly unmannerly canine. His khakis, at least,had remained pristine, if slightly damp due to the neighbor’s sprinkler going off just as hehad gotten into his car. Trying to ascertain whether he looked presentable in his rearviewmirror was proving to be a challenge since it was distracting him from his driving.Finally, frustrated, he tore the tie off and shoved it into the glove compartment. He turneddown one street of beautifully manicured lawns and expensive flower gardens and droveup to another one. She

would

live in a mansion. He stared, a little dazed, at the largecolumns supporting the small triangular edifice over the porch, which then led to themain monstrosity. At just that moment the fountain in the midst of the half-circle drive began beautifully spouting water, out of the mouths of angels, he noticed. Shaking hishead mournfully, he pulled up, slipped on a pair of sunglasses as a last-second defensemechanism, and lowered the roof of his car.For her part, Amber had just handed her toddler, Don, off to her mother, who was pleased to babysit. Amber had put herself together beautifully; she wore a sleeveless silk-and-chiffon dress of gold and peach. Exquisite high-heeled pumps completed the look,which was complemented by an elegant chignon and thin gold hoop earrings. Hearing thecar arrive she rolled her eyes before heading to the door.“I

know

this is another one of Steve’s bad ideas,” she told her mother, reaching for her purse. It was a champagne color that matched the sash she had decided to take in caseit suddenly turned cold.“You know Steve just wants to help you,” her mother sweetly informed her,handing Don a toy truck.Amber took her keys off the ledge beside the door. “Yes, but he has a particularly bad way of doing it,” she said. “Blind dates are just…”Her voice trailed off as she stepped out the door. Her date’s shirt had beenembossed with a dog’s paw-print, aside from which it was wet. His sunglasses weredated, his hair totally askew, and she could see that his khakis sported a bit of dirt (thereason beige was never a good idea.) Amber took a look at herself, her carefully picked-out golden shoes and peach sheath dress, stifling hysterical laughter. Deciding there wasno time to go back and dress in more casual attire, she elegantly descended the steps andwalked toward the car. He, having recovered his senses enough to know that he ought toopen the door for a lady, clicked the automatic control button, resulting in the door nearlyhitting her in the waist. She sidestepped it and delicately stepped inside, noting a red flapof cloth protruding from the glove compartment. “Hello,” she informed him, smiling atthe sunglassed eyes, “I’m Amber.”“I’m a mess,” he said dolefully, and she couldn’t help laughing.“Well, mess, do you have a name?” she teased. “Steve told me yours but I can’tremember it offhand. I figure that I might as well be direct about it; it can’t get any moreawkward than this.”“Steve,” he told her, extending his hand and shaking hers.

© The Curious Jew“Yeah, what about him?” she asked, pleased by his grip. It was firm and pleasant;he took her hand but didn’t clench it as though he were attempting to initiate her intoFight Club.He coughed. “My name’s also Steve,” he told her, at which point she actuallylaughed aloud.“Well, that’s perfect,” she told him, shifting behind her for her seatbelt. “Whereto?” she inquired.“Oh.” Steve looked at her, or at least she hoped he did, unable to see his eyes beneath the sunglasses. “I had kind of wanted it to be a surprise,” he murmured.“Surprise away!” she agreeably told him, leaning back in her seat.

So much for my chignon,

she thought. He revved up the car and backed it out of the drive; she caughtthe edges of a grin forming as he looked at the angels in the fountain.“It’s so overdone, isn’t it?” she asked him and noted that he looked slightlyrelieved to hear her commenting.“A bit,” he said, retreating to safe territory. “It’s just…unusual. I mean, I’ve seengargoyles before- the University of Chicago is full of those- but angelic fonts of water area first.”“Yeah, it’s my mother’s house,” she informed him.“Thank

God

,” she distinctly heard him say.“Excuse me?” she said, offended.He looked at her, perplexed. “Oh! Just that I made that turn.” He motioned andonly then did she realize they had just careened downhill through a light that had turnedred precisely as they dashed underneath it. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

A poor listener,

she checked off and sighed. “Honestly? I hate the whole blinddate thing,” she told him.“Oh, me too,” he answered her, almost as though he were grateful to her for stating it first.

I wish he would take his glasses off,

she thought.

Bother! I do want to see what helooks like.

Instead she stretched her arms out above her, as though embracing the last raysof the sun. Steve drove like a maniac, dipping underneath traffic lights and speedingalong the shoulder of the road until he finally reached a grove that read ‘HoneyBee’sApple Fields!’“Here,” he said, paying for two tickets and then parking the car chivalrously. “Letme help you out.” He dashed around to the other side of the car and opened the door, bowing slightly.

She’s wearing exactly the wrong thing for apple-picking

he noted as she emerged,two slender legs encased in golden heels followed by a shapely torso and a direct andangled head.

This was a mistake.Oh my God,

Amber thought.

He’s brought me apple picking. And I look like I should be sipping cocktails.

Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she decided to takeit in stride.“Any special memories from your youth of apple-picking?” she inquired. “Areason that you’ve chosen to bring me here today?”“Actually, yes,” Steve answered her, and she was relieved to see that he hadfinally decided to remove those pesky sunglasses. He had gorgeous eyes, clear and green, pools of light flecked with silver. She liked the look of him. “It was an activity I always

© The Curious Jewdid with my father. I have really good memories of my dad holding me up to reach theapples, and me reaching for them. We never took them home with us; we would sell them back at the end of the day. But just picking them. And the smell of apples on my skin, inmy hair- and the way my father looked- it just made me glad.”“It’s unfortunate you never brought them home with you,” Amber stated,resolving that she would make apple pie for him from the apples they picked today. “Sohow does this work? They give you ladders?”“Stepstools,” he answered, motioning to the entire orchard before them. Hewatched her giggle slightly, changing from the beautiful woman who looked like she belonged in a restaurant or a hotel lobby to a lighthearted child. She kicked off her expensive shoes and ran toward one of the trees, climbing the stepstool.“Here, I’ll pick,” she informed him. “You get a basket and catch.”He watched as the last rays of sunlight caught in her hair, dazzling him. Wisps of her chignon had come undone and now teased him; they hung becomingly around her face, framing the angled jaw, the full lips. She turned to him and he laughed to see thelaughter in her golden blue eyes. He picked up his bushel, which was woven of straw, andaimed it out ahead of him, daring her to throw.Her aim was good. She tossed one apple after another into the basket. “You’re bruising them!” he stated, somewhat concerned. She just gave a charming smile.“So what do you do?” she inquired.“I’m a Mathematics professor at the University of Chicago,” he answered promptly.She gave him an astonished look. “What?” she asked, totally dumbfounded.“Yeah.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “What? Math not your best subject?” hetried to joke.“No, it’s just, I didn’t think Steve knew any…

Mathematics professors

!”He gave her an easy, open smile. “Yeah, it’s funny how we met.”“Do tell,” she requested, pausing for a moment while atop her stepstool.“Well, I was flying to Chicago and so was he, except he was flying in after successfully closing a business deal while I was coming back from my grandmother’sfuneral. In any case, we were seatmates and he turned out to be a nice guy. We startedchatting, exchanged contact information and I figured I would never hear from the guyagain. Except then we became great friends.” He shrugged. “Life is strange.”“That’s for certain,” she said. “Steve was my ex-husband’s best friend,” sheinformed him. “That is, until he cheated on me. Then Steve became my best friend anddropped my husband. If there’s one thing Steve believes in, it’s loyalty.” She shiveredslightly. Steve felt for her; he knew how it felt to be so betrayed. Her sense of self-worthmust be shot to hell he decided.She flashed him a smile just before toppling off the step-stool.He saw it as though in slow motion. One moment she was standing, then amisplaced foot had her desperately twisting her ankle in an attempt to remain aloft, butthen she was falling, falling, falling…straight into his arms. He had gallantly moved tocatch her but hadn’t expected to feel the full impact of her weight, so his legs foldedunder him and with an “Oomph,” he sat down, hard, on the ground.But, to his credit, he had caught her and she lay outstretched on his lap, his armscradling her legs and shoulder blades. Her face beet-red, she scrambled off of him.