She comes back from the lu and sees him talking to the old man. They make eye contact. She mouths: “YOU ARE TALKING TO THE OLD MAN!”
He makes a YES with his eyes and the old man truns to see her emerge from the interior of the restaurant into the glourious sun that sparkles in all colors like a floating oil slick off her raven black hair. Time slows delieriously and the world seems to watch her slowly sway and float towards the table.
“Speaking of the devil,” Pat says.
“You told me I’m an angel,” Caroline says.
“You are most assuredly that,” M. Tristan says.
“Now he is a gentleman,” She says.
“Of course he is,” Pat says.
“Not so very gentle, I’m afraid,” M. Tristan says cryptically and the waiter pulls the cork on the Chateau Margaux. It is a hollow gasp of a pull and the waiter pours a small amount of the wine into the glass and they all look at the glass and study the sun coming through the redness of it.

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