Chapter 18
The weather forecast had been for another extra warm June day. Keith was eager to make the best impression that he could so he put on a shirt and tie for his luncheon engagement, but, in deference to the heat, left his jacket at home. He arrived at the Hotel Andaluz about fifteen minutes early and decided he could cool his heels in the comfort of a lobby chair that had a view of both entrances while he waited for Kayla to show. He really liked this hotel. Just like the Owl Bar in San Antonio, the Andaluz had a Conrad Hilton connection. This building started life as a Hilton Hotel and was the scene of many a dance in grampa’s day. Now it was one of two brand new boutique hotels in Albuquerque. Considerable sums had been cleverly spent in the building’s renovation.
Kayla, a few minutes early herself, came in through the side door and they spotted each other with a smile simultaneously. As she approached, Keith could see that she had changed her coiffure. The ebony hair now had a silver swath down one side. She wore bright red breeches and huaraches. Saturday’s plunging neckline had been replaced by a ruffled blouse and a bolo. Keith thought this woman is either a free spirit or a kook and he loved it. Keith got to his feet just in time for her to embrace him in today’s cheek-to-cheek manner.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” blurted Keith.
“Why, thank you, Keith. I try,” said Kayla as she twirled in front of him.
“Are those what you gals call pedal pushers?” tendered Keith.
“Pedal pushers were in your grandmother’s wardrobe, Keith. These are called ‘piratas’. My mother sent them to me from Madrid.”
As they walked over to check in with the maitre d’, Kayla could hold her appreciation no longer. “Keith, thank you so much for getting Clark to call Jenny. Melanie is so very grateful.”
“You are most certainly welcome. I’m delighted to be of service. Who’s Melanie?”
“She’s the friend with whom I was having coffee Saturday at the Flying Star. She knows Jenny’s family in Ely. Melanie and I were roommates at Wisconsin and she’s down here visiting me for a couple weeks.”
The conversation stopped as they were shown to their table. Then Kayla resumed, “I’ve been here less than a month myself. The Academy hired me right out of school. Apparently nobody majors in English Literature anymore and they were desperate for someone to teach this summer. At this point, though, I’m only under contract for the summer. Tell me about you, Keith!” Eliciting a smile from both of them, Kayla quipped, “I believe that I can safely presume that you’re not a fashion designer.”
“Well, I just finished a Master’s degree in Computer Engineering at Alabama. I had a variety of stipends and graduate assistant type jobs at school and now I’m working for Duke City Software helping my mother expand the company. The nicest part is that I determine my own hours which allows me like today to take a beautiful companion to lunch.”
“You’re such a Lothario! Do you read much? I’ve noticed that you technical types don’t seem to share a lot of my interests.”
“Au contraire, my pet. You have confused me with the masses. I have read The Fair Penitent and I am familiar with Lothario,” responded Keith. “Actually, I am a voracious reader of all kinds of things.”
Kayla saluted Keith with her water glass.
“Shall we order? Please, whatever you want. The salads are especially nice here. The special looks good or may I recommend the Nicoise?” continued Keith. After deliberating over the several choices, they both finally opted for a Crab Louis. “What are you currently covering in your class?”
“Hemmingway, right now... The Sun Also Rises, A Farewell to Arms, The Old Man and the Sea. I find his works depressing generally. I’ll die if we don’t get through this section quickly,” said Kayla.
Keith smiled. “I believe my response should be ‘never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee’. You didn’t mention perhaps his most well known work. I must confess I just read John Donne’s Meditation 17 last week.”
“You’re good, Keith, you’re very good. Let’s hope it tolls for neither of us,” responded Kayla with a hearty laugh. “I’m also writing a love story about a young couple in school who have an out-of-wedlock child. I’m calling it Mendota Ain’t No Gitchagoome. Have you ever tried writing?”
“I’ve written too many term papers recently to get very excited about the prospect. Maybe some day. I would be pleased to serve as a literary critic if you want one.”
“I think you’d be an excellent critic, but I’m not far enough along yet in developing the story line.”
They devoured their salads with gusto. When finished, Kayla reached over and clasped Keith’s hand. “I don’t know if you possess unusually high vascularity in your hands or what, but they have become a fetish for me. Does that make me a freak?”
“It certainly makes you interesting. And one should keep one’s fetishes in close proximity. I hope that you have enjoyed this as much as I. Shall we get acquainted some more quite soon?” said Keith hopefully.
“I would be most disappointed were you not to call,” replied Kayla. “Why don’t you walk me over to the county courthouse?” They left arm in arm.
After parting with Kayla, Keith remembered to pick up Wade’s painting at the Hotel Albuquerque. It was hung in grampa’s poolroom that same afternoon and grandma was pleased.