A Trip Down Memory Lane

While Henry was on his call, Erica looked over at him and thought back to the night they first met. It was at a bar like this one, kind of grimy. She would rather be eating at a finer restaurant tonight, but that’s what happens when you don’t head out to dinner until 10 PM. No restaurants in the town served food after 9 PM. That fact alone was hard for Erica to wrap her head around. Being from Manhattan, this was just unheard of, but, alas, she would embrace the Vermont way of life and enjoy her greasy food. 

That night, she remembered ordering a double burger with a side of Old Bay fries. She could hardly believe it, but she had just hit the winning run of her firm’s softball championship game, so she earned it. She didn’t swear off red meat altogether, but she did limit it to twice a week. In the past few years, she actually had to make herself eat meat twice a week for her iron—doctor’s orders. She had become accustomed to the healthy food at her firm’s cafeteria. Since she worked all the time, she couldn’t help but eat there, except for client meals out. Then she was usually just nervous enough to keep her on her toes, and a heavy meal on a nervous stomach never seemed appealing.

Anyway, that night, she enjoyed that huge, meaty burger. She could recall the grease running down her hands, and the cute gentleman who handed her a napkin. Of course it wasn’t one of her teammates. She was one of the guys by now, so they wouldn’t treat her like a lady. They likely would’ve encourage her to wipe her hands on her pants and her mouth on her sleeve. But not Henry. She remembered thinking he must have been watching her to have such great timing. She recalled being happy to have an admirer. She had been in a dry spell.

“Hi, I’m Henry,” he introduced himself. 

After pointing to her mouth while finishing chewing, she was able to introduce herself, too. “Erica Hart,” she said and out of habit put her hand out for a handshake before quickly withdrawing it, remembering how gross it was. 

“So, you play softball,” he asked, breaking the ice. 

“Well, tonight I did. We actually won the championship for the legal league,” she said while putting her chin to her chest—an uncharacteristically humble gesture for her. She recalled it so vividly, even the doe eyed look, rolling her eyes back up at him—her attempt at flirting. 

“Ahh, you work at a law firm. Are you a lawyer or a paralegal,” he asked.

Erica laughed inside. She wasn’t used to people not recognizing her name. In the New York City legal scene, she was known by everyone. But she decided to let it go and just answered, “lawyer.”

“Cool. I thought about law school once but didn’t really want to dedicate my life to people I didn’t care about. I wanted a family, to be able to play ball with my kids, watch their recitals, you know,” he said. 

Erica didn’t know. Her entire life was her work. And though she didn’t necessarily care about her clients, she did care about winning, which is what she did most of the time.

“I guess you’re able to have the best of both worlds—enough time to chill at bars and play softball with your co-workers,” Henry went on.

She let it go. He didn’t need to know she was a workaholic and competitive to the point of being unhealthy. 

“Yeah, that’s me. We love to hang,” she said pointing to her colleagues, mostly men. “So, do you have time to play with your kids?”

“What? Kids? No, no. I don’t have kids, yet. I just thought when I was 20 I would,” he explained. 

Allowing herself an internal sigh of relief with that and noticing no wedding band, she said, “okay, so no kids. Well, what job did you choose that would allow you the freedom to be Mr. Family Man should you so desire?”

“I’m an entrepreneur,” he explained.

Erica tried to hide her eye roll, assuming entrepreneur was cover for unemployed, but she continued.

“What type of business do you run? Would I have heard of it,” she inquired.

“Probably not. I’m more business to business, so no splashy ads or anything you would recognize. I do fairly well acquiring items in demand for my clients,” was Henry’s reply. 

This time Erica couldn’t hide her facial expression and both eyebrows shot up, as it sounded a little too vague and she was back on the he’s unemployed thought. 

To clarify after seeing her expression, he explained he was an importer-exporter. 

“Can I buy you a drink,” he offered. “What is this? You like dark beer. My kind of girl,” he said and without waiting for a reply ordered her a Guinness. She didn’t get a chance to tell him the beer belonged to the guy next to her, but hadn’t had someone buy her a drink in awhile, so let it go.

When the Guinness arrived after several minutes—one of the things she both liked and disliked about the beer—she took a swig and had great memories of a trip to Ireland she had taken when in college. She always did like it, but her impatience kept her from ordering it; she didn’t have time to wait for a proper pour. But that night, with Henry, it seemed like she had all the time in the world. 

Henry finished his phone call and came back to the table. Erica smiled. She was happy. She couldn’t believe that even after his first impression of her was so wrong, he stuck around. When he found out she was one of the top lawyers in the City, he didn’t get intimidated. Most guys did. When she beat him at every game they played, he didn’t complain. And, he did have a job after all! He made good money, too, which likely helped with the not being intimidated. 

"Funny how first impressions can be so far off. He thought I was a chill, sporty, beer-drinking girl and I thought he was an overzealous, lightly employed guy who I would never talk to again,” Erica thought, happy they were both wrong. 

“Do you want champagne to celebrate your survival and our reunion,” Henry asked Erica when he sat down. 

“Sounds good,” Erica answered.

“Champagne please, two glasses,” he asked the waiter after waving him over. 

Erica thought, “I guess I taught him well. That’s a power move.”

“Uh, we don’t have that,” the boy replied.

“Proseco, then,” Henry requested, assuming the trend had reached Vermont, even this college bar. 

“Yes, I think we have that,” the waiter replied while scratching it onto his pad. 

“You know what I was just thinking about,” Erica asked Henry, but answered before he could guess. “The night we met.”

“Oh, yeah? And what a night it was. It changed my life. I am so lucky I found you. You were perfect… I mean, are perfect,” he said while reaching over for her hand. 

“So who called? Work? I hope it wasn’t anything urgent. I would love to stay a couple extra days to enjoy the inn. I don’t know if I want to cross country ski again after the ordeal, but I’d love to hike and I think there’s a waterfall nearby,” she explained. 

Extending their vacation was the last thing Henry wanted to do. He needed to get rid of Erica so he could start his own manhunt. He didn’t trust his team. But he may still need Erica, so he had to play it cool.

“That’s a shame, it was actually a customer with a pretty urgent need. They’re buying a property that has a second bidder, so they need to sell some of their assets quickly,” he explained, lying. 

“Can’t one of your employees handle it,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand a little tighter. 

“Babe, you know I would love to stay here with you, especially after the craziness of you getting lost on the trail and the fright you got from Roger,” he said gritting his teeth as he spoke his name, “but, it’s a big client and since they have a timely deal depending on me, I really need to give them the best, and that’s me!”

“There’s my overzealous guy,” Erica thought. Sometimes, she could sense a little arrogance, maybe just confidence, under his kind and patient demeanor, but who was she to judge? 

After she attempted a pout and could tell he wasn’t budging, Erica gave in and said, “Okay, fine. We can head back tomorrow as planned, but first, let’s eat. I’m starving!”

Taking a cue from her walk down memory lane, she ordered a double burger. After all, she was a champion again tonight. She got lost in the woods in the dark, found a cabin in the middle of nowhere, convinced the recluse to drive her into town, and managed to let down her defenses and not blame Henry for everything going wrong. 

The conversation continued to flow along with the Prosecco. “You seem upset at Roger, Henry. Really, you shouldn’t be. He suffers from PTSD you know. He was in Vietnam, like my father. I can’t blame him for being a complete loner. I was the one who intruded on him,” she explained.

Henry knew he had to be more careful. This woman didn’t miss a beat. She could tell he wanted to spit when he said Roger’s name. After all, he had chosen Erica for her extreme confidence and ability to get out of any sticky situation—a result of her amazing power of perception. He knew she would find Roger once he got her close, and now he couldn’t blow it. 

He knew Erica and Roger made a connection and he might reach out to her again. She did offer to help him and gave him her business card. He needed her back in New York in case that happened. Plus, he needed her back in her insane work world so he could start tracking Roger again. Though he had no way of knowing for sure, he felt pretty certain that the emergency vehicles they saw earlier tonight, and the thick smell of smoke was the result of Roger covering his tracks, well, more blowing up than covering. 

Henry just needed to get through this dinner. “Here, let me pour you another glass.”