Wilmington, NC 05 - Murder On The ICW

walls. I sipped water from a cobalt blue water goblet, my mouth suddenly dry as I realized how much my life had changed. Sometimes things work out better than you expect. I hoped that would be true when Melanie's troubles were resolved.
    I studied the wine list. "I think I'll have the Valpolicella ," I told Jon. "I decided the minute I hit the door to have steak. I eat so much fish and sometimes a girl just needs red meat."
    "You order whatever your heart desires," Jon said. "The Valpolicella sounds good to me too. Should I order a bottle?"
    I reached across the table and touched his hand. "Not for me, thanks. One glass will be enough. I don't want to ruin this special evening by getting looped."
    "Well, I'm driving so one glass is all I want too. We'll have champagne later," he said mysteriously.
    "Oh, is someone planning a party?" I asked.
    His eyes twinkled merrily. He was so happy. Oh, dear God, I breathed, please let him stay this way.
    "Actually, someone is planning a very private party," he said and grinned.
    "Oh? And are you going to tell me about it?"
    "When the time comes. Patience, little one. Now here's our waiter. What is your pleasure?"
    I ordered the filet mignon. It came with a wild mushroom demi-glace. "Good choice," the waiter said. Jon told him he'd have a rib eye, medium rare. The waiter collected our menus and quietly departed.
    A couple being seated a few tables away caught my eye and I dragged my gaze away from Jon's loving eyes. The woman's blonde head was familiar and I recognized her instantly. I studied her and her partner.
    "What?" Jon asked, turning where I was looking.
    "Remember I was just telling you about our bizarre conversation with Crystal Lynne earlier today? Well, there she is. And look who she's with. I don't believe it. Ali Shariff . Now what . . . ? Oh no, you don't suppose he's her new love interest? He's so homely."
    "Now, Ashley, don't you think that's a superficial judgment? You don't really know the guy. He could be a great fellow," Jon said tenderly.
    "You're right. I shouldn't make snap judgments."
    When our waiter came with our wine, I took another opportunity to study Crystal and Ali. She had on the same shimmery beige suit she'd worn to Melanie's house. So Ali was the girlfriend she was meeting.
    And Ali, I had to admit as I watched him stare at Crystal, was transformed. His fierce expression had vanished. His face had softened, glowed in the way Jon's face glowed when he saw mine.
    So he's in love with her, I thought. He must be the younger man she told us she'd fallen for. I thought of David Boleyn and the propriety manner in which he treated Crystal, as if she were a piece of meat he was about to devour, or a pet he owned.
    "They're in love, Jon," I whispered.
    He turned his head to give them a good look. They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn't see us. They weren't aware of anyone else in the room.
    "Well, good for them!" Jon told me. "In this mad and dangerous world, you're a fool if you don't take love where you find it."
    "You're so smart," I said, and gave him a big smile, so proud of him and his wisdom.
    "I know a place that plays romantic music so we can dance. And there's champagne on ice," he said, bending toward me as we stepped out into the soft night.
    "I'm all for that," I said. "But I can't wait." I wrapped my arms around his waist and gave him a long kiss.
    We drove to Wrightsville Beach holding hands, to Jon's house on the waterway side of the island. Out here a wind was blowing in from the ocean, a warm moist wind fed by the Gulf Stream.
    I've always liked the way Jon's house backed up to the marshes, always felt at home there. He had outfitted it with an eye for comfort.
    We danced on the polished living room floor to a CD that had been recorded just for lovers. "I love the way Rod Stewart sings those old standards," I said. Stewart was singing "It Had to be You" in that gravely voice of his.
    Jon sang softly in my ear, the words of the song just for me, for us.
    And then the CD changed, and Etta James big throaty voice flowed out of the speakers singing, "At Last, My Love Has Come Along."
    Well, I was thrilled. I love that song. We held each other, moving very slowly, and sang with her.
    The music went on to something soft. Time for a change of venue.
    "You promised champagne," I whispered. "Where is it?"
    "In the bedroom," he replied, his voice husky in my ear. "For later. Can't you wait?"
    "No darling, I cannot wait another