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I grabbed my phone and texted my driver.Do you know where to find a hot dog cart this late?
The things I was prepared to do forlove.
* * * *
As it turned out, there weren’t many hot dogcarts in Manhattan, and most closed up shop after the nine-to-fivecrowd had left the city. But my driver, Allison, knew of one whohung around until ten.
“But,” she warned me, “you’re hitting thetail end of the day. Expect shriveled dogs.”
Of all the words I expected to think of whenapproaching a meal, “shriveled” was possibly the second-mostunpleasant. Charlotte’s earlier description of “scummy” still tookthe top slot.
It haunted me.
Still, her excitement was adorable. Shebounded from the car in her gray cashmere joggers and hoodie beforeAllison could open the door.
“Are you closed?” Charlotte called as shehurried up to the vendor.
The man didn’t look up as he opened a lid onthe cart, releasing a cloud of steam. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yay!” She gestured me over with a rapidlyflapping hand while she ordered. “I want a hot dog with mustard andonions. A lot of onions.”
“And for you?” the man asked, bumping thebrim of his baseball cap out of his eyes with his forearm.
“One with ketchup and relish. And…a Pepsi.”I nodded toward Charlotte. “Want something to drink?”
“A diet, please.” She cast me a glance and ashrug. “The sugar kind is too sweet.”
I’d be sure to let the housekeeper knowbefore she went shopping.
“Sixteen bucks.” The man said, handing me myfood.
That was it? I opened my wallet. All I hadwere hundreds. I handed one over and said, “Keep the change.”
“Did you drop a hundred dollars on hotdogs?” Charlotte asked as we walked back to the car. She wasalready making significant progress on her food, so she must havebeen hungry. Usually, she ate at sloth speed.
“I dropped sixteen bucks on hot dogs. Idropped eighty-four dollars on a tip.” It was hard to manage aprecarious hot dog in a paper doily, two sodas, and my cane. “Canyou—”
“Let me get that, sir,” Allison said,stepping away from the curb. She took the bottles from me andopened the door.
“I can’t believe we did that,” Charlottesaid happily as Allison shut us in. “It was like the movies.”
“There are movies about people traveling theworld. Climbing mountains. Having adventures.” My lips quirked upin a smile. “You wanted to emulate the scenes where people buy foodoff the street.”
She made a noise of dismay. “Adventuressound exhausting. Nonsexual ones, I mean. Climbing a mountain? Nothanks. I don’t even like an incline on the treadmill. This is abig adventure for me, anyway. I mean, eating hot dogs in the backof a chauffeured electric Mercedes? When was that going to happento me?”
I took a bite and considered her words.
Wicking a bit of mustard from the corner ofher mouth with her ring finger, she went on. “You have to look ateveryday life as being full of adventure, or you’ll get bored.”
“That’s…an unexpectedly wise statement toarise from eating a hot dog.” But she was right. If she hadn’t comeinto my life, would I have ever tracked down a street vendor andeaten a sixteen-dollar dinner in the back of my car?
“I’m not just great tits and a raginglibido,” she said happily. “I have depth.”
“I never doubted that.” I was surprised athow that depth influenced me. What other daily “adventures” would Ihave in my life with Charlotte?
I couldn’t wait to find out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN