She waited on the corner of 34th and Chestnut Streets, dressed in her best cloth coat. Underneath she wore a red and black dress -- appropriate for the occasion, she thought. A half hour had passed since Norman was supposed to have met her. They would have dinner tonight, he'd told her, at 38th and Sansom Streets at the White Dog Cafe. His favorite restaurant, wonderful filet roasts, wonderful Yorkshire bread pudding, and divine chocolate cakes. Norman knew she loved chocolate better than anything.
She grew restless. The temperature, cold even for the first of October, chilled her to the bone. People walked by her, turning from 34th onto Chestnut, turning from Chestnut onto 34th. Penn students, mostly, some doctors on the way home from a day at the hospital. None of them were Norman. Finally, after waiting forty-five minutes, she decided to walk directly to the restaurant. As she approached,she smelled the aroma of beef, vegetables, and sauces from the chimneys of this restaurant on the narrow Sansom alley. She walked into the restaurant, conspicuous as a young woman walking into a fine restaurant without an escort.
Norman sat at a table against the wall, looking into the eyes of an unexpected dinner companion -- a woman, a woman with long red hair. Could it be? Why, yes -- it was Agnes. And then anger flared at being put in this position. Norman was having dinner with his wife in the restaurant where he was supposed to be dining with her. Norman never looked her way, never raised his eyes. She saw the gaze into Agnes's face and had her answer. She hadn't even asked the question, but she knew the answer now, not having even formulated the question in her own mind. He'd never leave his wife.
Cristina made an excuse to the maitre-d', turned around, and left the restaurant. This would solve their problem. Norman wouldn't leave Agnes for her, she knew, and that made ending their affair much easier. And it also made it easier for Cristina to live with Angelo and raise their children in one household. And it also made it easier for Cristina to stay best friends with Agnes.
She grew restless. The temperature, cold even for the first of October, chilled her to the bone. People walked by her, turning from 34th onto Chestnut, turning from Chestnut onto 34th. Penn students, mostly, some doctors on the way home from a day at the hospital. None of them were Norman. Finally, after waiting forty-five minutes, she decided to walk directly to the restaurant. As she approached,she smelled the aroma of beef, vegetables, and sauces from the chimneys of this restaurant on the narrow Sansom alley. She walked into the restaurant, conspicuous as a young woman walking into a fine restaurant without an escort.
Norman sat at a table against the wall, looking into the eyes of an unexpected dinner companion -- a woman, a woman with long red hair. Could it be? Why, yes -- it was Agnes. And then anger flared at being put in this position. Norman was having dinner with his wife in the restaurant where he was supposed to be dining with her. Norman never looked her way, never raised his eyes. She saw the gaze into Agnes's face and had her answer. She hadn't even asked the question, but she knew the answer now, not having even formulated the question in her own mind. He'd never leave his wife.
Cristina made an excuse to the maitre-d', turned around, and left the restaurant. This would solve their problem. Norman wouldn't leave Agnes for her, she knew, and that made ending their affair much easier. And it also made it easier for Cristina to live with Angelo and raise their children in one household. And it also made it easier for Cristina to stay best friends with Agnes.
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