THE GUITARIST: Nicholas and Cait See Some Sights

Previously:  Nicholas and Caitlin meet.  Nicholas asks Cait to join him for a walk and she accepts.

 

“Mr. Trent.  Ma’am,” the doorman said as he opened the door for us.

“Thanks, Larry.”

The sidewalk was busy at this hour.  I stepped into the crowd without realising Caitlin wasn’t with me.  When I looked back, there she stood, feet planted, eyes wide and scanning the scene around her like a lighthouse beacon.  I quickly returned to her.

“Caitlin, are you all right?”

She unfroze and captured my eyes with hers.  “It’s overwhelming.”

“It can be.”  I pulled her back into the hotel doorway, giving a discreet shake of the head to Larry, the doorman, who stayed where he was.  “Let’s stand here for a moment to get our bearings.  We can venture further if you like, or we can go back inside and share another bottle of wine.”

My demeanour must’ve been reassuring.  She regained her breath and laughed, but held firmly to my coat sleeve.  I found I rather liked the contact.  It made me feel protective of her somehow.

I pointed out several landmarks that could be seen from the doorway, and regaled her with stories of my youthful escapades in the city.  After a few minutes, I felt her relax.

“Sorry about that,” she said.  “Sometimes I have a problem in big crowds.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.  It happens, right?  Do you think you’re ready to go a little further?”

With a deep, cleansing breath, she said, “I think so.”

We walked up a few blocks, crossed the street and came back to the lounge across from the hotel.

“How about another glass of wine?”

She nodded. 

We turned and the door to the lounge opened as if automatic.

“Mr. Trent,” the doorman greeted.  “Ma’am,” he said to Caitlin as he touched the brim of his hat.

I nodded.

The lounge was dark with thick carpeting and fabric-covered, padded walls that provided soundproofing for the plush, private seating.  In the audible foreground, soft jazz was accented by a dim, but steady bass thump feeding through from the floor above.

The maitre’d, studied the evening’s reservations as we approached, but smiled when he saw us, and came around from behind his podium.

“Mr. Trent.  So good to see you, sir.”  He bowed slightly to Caitlin.  “Madame.”

I greeted him and said, “We’d like a table down here.”

“Certainly.”  He smiled at Cait.  “Welcome to the Velvet Room.”  To me, he said, “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“Just drinks this evening.”

“This way, please.”

Cait leaned in close.  “This is beautiful.”

I smiled and placed her hand in the crook of my elbow.  Again, I believe I surprised her with the gesture, but she smiled at me and I knew it was all right.  “It’s one of my favourite places.”

We were seated at a banquette with tall backs making us seem far removed from anyone else though we’d passed several similar booths of people.  Handing us each a beverage menu, he said, “I’ll send your attendant right over.”  He bowed slightly again.  “If I can be of any further assistance, please let me know.”

I ordered a bottle of Washington state merlot and once it was served, I touched my glass to Cait’s.  “To new friends.”

“New friends,” she said and returned the toast.  “I’m grinning like a tourist.”

“You are a tourist.”

“Well . . .” she said.  “Unintentionally so.  It’s just amazing.  We don’t have buildings like this in Charleston.”

“No?”

“Everything’s much lower to the ground.  We don’t have anything like these skyscrapers.  Most of the buildings are very historic.  The modern hospitals and the church steeples are about the tallest structures around.  The old buildings were built or rebuilt after the earthquake in 1886 and they’ve been maintained and restored as times demanded, but nothing like this.”

“Sounds like some of the historic villages and towns in England.”

“I’ve always wanted to see the British Isles.”

“You’d like it there, I think.”

We talked about England as we finished our wine.  She seemed to relax even more.

“Feel a little more confident then?” I asked.  “Maybe tomorrow night we could see the Empire State Building.”

Even in the dim light, I could see her blush.  “Oh, I couldn’t ask you . . . I mean, I couldn’t impose any more.  You’ve already been so nice.”

“It’s not an imposition.  I invited you.”  I laughed.  “Are you having fun tonight?"

“Yes,” she said.  “Very much.”

“I am too.  Won’t you join me tomorrow night?”

She dipped her head before she looked back up.  “I’d like that.”

“All right, then.”  I touched her glass again.