The valet handed Claire her ticket. She turned toward the entrance of Marcel’s to see a doorman exquisitely dressed in a red suit complete with a top hat. He was standing, waiting, looking for her. In a gentle manner, he took her arm and ushered her to the other side of the door. There, he passed her off to a distinguished character dressed in a tuxedo, the maître d’. The handoff from the doorman to the maître d’ felt ceremonial to Claire, she was at one of the finest restaurants in D.C.
Her next escort led her to a table in a back corner of the restaurant where Bill sat patiently with anticipation of her entrance. He had changed into expensive attire that was fitting for this award winning French cuisine.
It had been a delightful call from Bill when he instructed her to meet him at such a fine restaurant. She had been to Marcel’s once before so she knew the dress code. She’d spent the last part of her day changing into a respectable, but mildly alluring dress. She was a poster child, or in her case, woman for the setting.
Bill stood to receive her, “Claire, so nice to see you.”
She greeted him by extending her hands to his. “Senator, you have good taste. But in light of the timing, we might want to discuss SB 1257.”
He shook his head. “Lady, I have no intensions of discussing business tonight. Not after all the anticipation of sitting across the table from you.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish