In the warm, still comfort of the booth Ruby waited with an open menu and a half full glass of Pinot Noir in front of her.  Berns had been her favorite restaurant ever since she was a little girl cheerfully tying her father’s shoelaces together under the table, and when she began dating Edward in the winter of 1939 this had been the obvious locale for their cocktails and courtship.  She was at home here.  The wait staff knew all her likes and dislikes, and every time she arrived her booth was saved, her drink cool and fresh, and her menu was laid on the spotless linen before her.  Everything was as it should be, except the fact that Edward hadn’t come from work to meet her.  She hoped he wasn’t running late again; she hated waiting.  It seemed as if he was always just running somewhere to do one last important thing before he came to meet her.  Sixty years of marriage and it was always the same. 

            She decided to take a look at the menu to see what Thomas, the owner and head chef, had created for this winter’s menu.  Christmastime was always special around Berns because the food fit the season—roast duck, puddings, and apple pie fresh from the oven.  The pie was the best thing.  Sugar and cinnamon suspended together, ready to dissolve in her mouth and take her back in time—nothing had been better as a child.  Her eyes misted over as she thought about her father and how they had always shared a huge piece of pie and ice cream every time he brought her to this place to eat dinner.  She always sat close to him during mealtimes, wanting to be near the scent of his cologne and the comfort of his presence, but dessert was the moment they shared together as she ate from his plate while sitting on his lap.  Oh, how she missed him! When her mother died of a fever, her father hadn’t had the heart to remarry.  He had his daughter and his work, so instead of eating at home every night, he decided to take his daughter out for a night on the town at least once a week.  It was amazing to her just how clear these memories of her father were in her seventy-eight-year-old head.  It seemed as if time should fade them like a sepia toned photograph, but they remained as vibrant to her as the day they were made. She decided that it was a pleasant way to spend one’s time waiting—memories. They never changed, but waited there to be rediscovered, relived, and enjoyed all over again.  But where on earth was Edward?

            She craned her neck around and looked at the front door.  A young couple sheltered under and umbrella came in quickly and was ushered to a nearby table.  They both looked so young and happy—so alive.  Between the soft candle lighting and the flakes of snow in their hair, they looked otherworldly…like winter sprites come in from the cold.  Ruby smiled broadly and turned back to her menu.  She thought about Edward and their courting.  She remembered how he had called her “his treasure.”  He had always loved her name because he said it showed just how priceless he was to her, and she had repaid that devotion over the years in more ways than one.  She loved him even though she watched his dark brown hair mist over gray, and his strong, working hands crease with age and the worries of the world.  She had stood beside him when the money had rolled in, and given him succor when the accounts ran as dry as a prospector’s well.  She had born him two brilliant sons—Harold and Jacob—and had watched them become perfect replicas of their father.  She and Edward were grandparents five times over—three girls and two boys.  She had always loved the fact that she had more granddaughters than grandsons.  She was tired of raising boys.  Yes, considering all the hitches and catches along the way, their marriage had been one that stood for something in a time when people were splitting up over the tiniest of differences. 

            Without even looking at the menu, she decided to order.  Beef medallions served with a Béarnaise sauce and topped with crab meat.  This item had recently appeared on the menu, and she simply couldn’t resist it because the flavors were so rich and elegant.  She had probably eaten this culinary delight the last dozen or so times she had eaten here in her favorite booth of her favorite restaurant, and Edward never failed to pick at her in his friendly way for her lack of spontaneity.  Every time he ribbed her for ordering the same thing time after time, she simply replied with, “I know what I like.”  Speaking of which, where was her old fellow?  Did he plan on leaving her here all night?  She took a sip of the Pinot Noir and felt it glide down her throat like a soft rain.  Refreshed, she went back to looking at her fellow patrons.  She was happy to see so many familiar faces alongside so many newcomers, but it made her feel both at home and out of synch at the same time.  Times had changed, and while the restaurant had remained the same in form, subtle differences had crept over the place as both she and it aged.  The old cash register, which had chimed cheerfully when Gus, the former head waiter, rang up a charge, had been replaced by one of those card swipe gizmos that the wait staff could use to automatically send your order to the cooks in the back.  While the system was more efficient, Ruby missed that auditory memory.  The carpet had changed from a dark burgundy to a rich hunter green with gold leaves twirling round in concentric circles, and the booths had been reupholstered in a dark green velvet that always felt comforting and plush to her aging backside.  She noticed all these tiny details not only because she had stared at these walls so often throughout her years, but also because it had always been in her nature to notice small things.  Edward even agreed that nothing ever got past her.  Anyone who worked at Edward’s office could always count on a card from Ruby. Any time someone had a relative in the hospital, she was there, and anytime there was a birth, a wedding, or any celebration she would always come up with the perfect gift.

            Fifteen minutes elapsed.  Then twenty. Twenty-five.  Ruby started to wonder if she would have to eat alone once again.  Her Edward was so busy these days! Always working, even at his age.  She guessed that he just couldn’t let the old business go; he always had one thing that needed his special attention.  She knew how he was, and she forgave it.  In her eyes, that was what a woman did.  She forgave the little things and did the best she could.  Edward was a hard worker, which wasn’t a fault. He had never been interested in another woman, nor had he ever hit her or denied her anything she had needed.  She had no complaints.  Still, it was lonesome sometimes sitting here with no one to share her memories and random thoughts.  Something, it seemed, was always missing. Her husband, her children, her father.  She decided to go ahead and eat without him; it wouldn’t be the first time.

            Robert, a nice looking young man who had waited on her for years, came to the table in the same instant she thought about her meal.  It almost seemed like he had anticipated her need—like he had been in this situation before.  She smiled warmly at him and inquired about his wife and family.  He had two girls—Bridgett and Kathy—she remembered.  Both born in June—fourteen days apart.  He smiled and thanked her kindly for her concern, and asked her if she would have the usual.  She grinned. Even Robert knew!  Maybe it was about time she decided to try a new item from the varied menu that was always placed before her.

            As she sat and waited for her meal, she stared at the snow white tablecloth in front of her and thought about the flurry outside.  Winter always made her feel lonely.  Most of the house she and Edward shared was shut up in the winter.  No children were there to run around and fill the empty rooms, so they just decided to close the unused portion down.  She always though it was sad to see part of the house she loved die in the winter like a frozen leaf somehow still attached to its branch.  Time passes so quickly! She thought.  I do hope everyone comes home soon.  Christmas is just around the corner, and there is so much to plan.  Edward and I have so much to do.

            As Ruby stared, reminisced about Christmas past, and planned for Christmas future, another young man in the kitchen watched her intently.  She was so old, so fragile, and yet there was something about her youthful face, elegant dress, and quiet mannerisms that fascinated him.  Why was she eating alone?  Didn’t she have someone to take care of her?  A husband?  A child?  After a few minutes of speculation, he decided to ask Robert.

            “Robert, who is that elderly lady at table twenty-five?”

            “Oh, that’s Ruby Williams.  Edward William’s wife,” he replied.

            “Why is she all alone? She’s obviously waiting for someone…” he repeated.

            “It’s like this every week or so. She comes in and waits for Edward.  Always orders the same thing, eats alone.  He never shows up,” was Robert’s reply.

            “What? Why would a man stand up a wonderful woman like that?” the young man asked.

            “Oh, well, that’s the part that is a little harder to explain.  She comes here every week. She has since she was a girl.  Thomas’ dad used to own this place before he passed it on. Said she used to come here as a girl with her father.  She always has.  She’s as much a part of the place as the paintings on the walls or the apple pie,” he said pointing over his shoulder at Ruby for emphasis, “I guess she always will.  Her husband died ten years ago, and still she never stopped coming to see us.”

            “But she seems so sure he’ll show!” the young man said with rising concern.

            “Ah you see, to her he always does…in her memories.  When you’re alone, like she is, they are the most comforting way to pass the time.”

This being said, Robert walked around the young waiter to gather up Ruby’s meal.  The young man stood there, suddenly moved and saddened by the beautiful woman he saw sitting, alone, at table twenty-five.