"I'm going to study at Kim's tonight, okay? After she gets off work. I don't know how late I'll be, so don't wait up," Clementine told her mother on Wednesday morning.

"Sure, hon. Work's been kicking my ass lately, so I might just go to bed early." Her mother was a legal secretary, and her bosses always kept her jumping.

She went to class and met Kim after to talk about what Kim insisted on calling "D-day."

"So, did you figure out what you were going to wear?" Kim asked as they walked toward their favorite Vietnamese restaurant for Pho.

Clementine shook her head.

"Clem, you need to get this stuff all sorted out!" Kim admonished. "It's tonight, in case you'd forgotten."

"Of course I haven't forgotten," Clementine retorted. "I just haven't decided yet, that's all."

"Well, get on the stick, chick, time is ticking away."

Clementine looked at her friend. "Did you really just say that?"

Kim just stared at her. "And make sure you wear nice underwear," she added.

"What? Why?" Clementine was horrified. "He's not going to be anywhere near my underwear, Kimberley Mercer."

"You never know," Kim answered with a grin. "Besides, you'll feel better if you know you're wearing something nice under your clothes. You know, more confident or whatever."

"I suppose."

"You should wear a sleeveless dress, you have the nicest skin, and your arms are such a pretty shape," Kim continued dreamily.

So when Clementine went home to get ready to go, she took a shower, put on some sweats, and perused the contents of her closet. She did end up going with a yellow sundress, sleeveless per Kim's suggestion, and she had to admit she did feel pretty in it. And underneath she put on a matching bra and panty set in pale pink, remembering once again Kim's admonitions.

She got a text from John around 6:30.

"I'll be home around 8, give or take, but someone will be there to let you in if I'm not back yet."

'Someone?' She thought John lived alone.

She tied her hair up in its usual ponytail, checked her makeup, and got in her car for the drive to the beach.

She arrived at ten after eight, but when she rang the bell, a stranger answered, a girl in a professional looking slacks and vest ensemble. 

"Oh, hello," Clementine, stammered, unsure what to do.

"You must be Ms. O'Dell," the girl replied. "Mr. Darling-Ezekwesili said he'd be about thirty minutes late, and you should just wait in the living room. I'm Tracy, one of the caterers."

Caterers? Wow.

Tracy showed Clementine into the living room, which had floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Pacific. The sun had just set, and the sky was muted tones of orange and pink.

"Can I get you anything while you wait? Wine?" Tracy asked.

"That would be nice," Clementine answered with a nod.

Tracy disappeared in the direction of what to Clementine looked like the kitchen, reappearing mere moments later with a glass of white wine.

"My pleasure," she answered to Clementine's murmured thanks.

Clementine didn't know what they were having for dinner, but it smelled divine, and she realized that she hadn't had anything to eat since her Pho with Kim.

John's house was beautiful, with a small fountain with water lilies in it in the foyer, and nice pieces of African art throughout. It was sleek and modern, with a minimalist vibe. There was a huge, blue fish tank against one wall filled with colorful tropical fish, and of course the other two walls were covered with built in bookshelves crammed with all sorts of books.

She walked around, admiring the fish, then looking at the titles of the books. They didn't seem to be in any sort of order, and ran the gamut from archaeology to mysteries to political science.

It was a beautiful house, what she'd seen of it, and reminded her of John himself.

She pulled out a book on English history, kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet up under her on the sofa and began to read, as usual losing herself in the words.

"Aren't you a lovely sight for sore eyes."

John's voice brought her back to the present, and she realized that it had grown completely dark while she read. She looked up at him and smiled, closing the book.

"John, welcome home," she said, rising to greet him. He held his phone in his hand as he hugged her, and she could feel its cool smoothness on her back. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and looked tired.

"Mm, you smell delicious, nice and soapy clean," he added as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Would you mind if I took a quick shower? I'll be no more than fifteen minutes, promise."

"No, I don't mind," Clementine assured him. "I still have half a glass of wine left, too, so the timing will be just right."

"Brilliant." And he was gone.

She sat down and read some more about the Crusades as she sipped her wine, playing with her hair as she did so. She was peripherally aware of clinking sounds coming from the kitchen, and low, muted voices.

"I'm back, I'm back," John said, filling the room with his energy once more as he entered the living room. This time he was wearing khakis and a polo shirt, the ends of his corkscrew hair still damp from his shower.

"And I'm starving, do you mind if we eat straight away?" He looked at her hopefully.

Clementine shook her head. "I'm hungry, too, and it smells amazing."

"Super."

He led her toward the kitchen, where there were three people, including the very kind Tracy, preparing the food. On the other side of the kitchen was a sunroom of sorts, a glassed in space with exposure to the beach and ocean on three sides. 

"There's a bit of a moon tonight, so I thought it would be nice to eat in here, where we can see the sea," John explained. The small table had been beautifully laid for two, and two tall tapers burned brightly.

John held her chair for her, and immediately Tracy was there, pouring them more wine and serving the first course.

"This is so lovely, Johnny," Clementine said as she took in everything. "When you said come for a late dinner, I assumed we'd be ordering in pizza or Chinese or something."

"I like to do that as well," he assured her. "But I thought this would be nice."

"Oh, I called you 'Johnny' just now, I'm sorry. I know you prefer just 'John' these days."

"It's perfectly all right," John said with a smile. "I liked who I was when I was Johnny as well." He raised his glass, and Clementine picked hers up too.

"To us, and to the beginning of a wonderful friendship," he said. "Thanks for coming."

"My pleasure," Clementine returned, clinking glasses with him.

Three courses came and went, a delicious soup, followed by braised short ribs, then a very beautiful salad with seafood on top.

"There's dessert as well, little chocolate lava cakes?" John offered after their salads had been cleared away.

Clementine shook her head. "Please, you have some, I couldn't possibly, I'm too full."
"Me too," John agreed. He went to the kitchen for a moment, and Clementine sat back, replete, glad she'd worn an A-line dress with no waist to speak of.

She, Clementine O'Dell, was at Johnny Darling's Malibu beach house, having dinner for two with wine. And he really liked spending time with her. She felt like she'd stepped into a fairytale, slid sideways into someone else's life.

Hy's life.

Hyacinth was supposed to be the one spending time with John, being wooed by him, having romantic dinners with him, falling in love with him.

Clementine thought uneasily of how brightly her sister smiled whenever John's name was mentioned, how she lit up in his presence. She really seemed to like him.

And why hadn't she, Clementine, told her sister about having brunch with him, about being invited to his house for dinner? Normally anything like this would've been fodder for hours of conversations and texting, with much squealing and laughter. Clem knew that, if were anyone but John, her sister would be falling all over herself with joy for her.

But it was John, wasn't it?

So what, though? She was entitled to her own life, wasn't she? Something that didn't involve her glamorous sister, who already had a bursting full life of her own. And wasn't it Johnny himself who'd explained to her that things needed to be kept under wraps?

Clementine sighed. It basically came down to the fact that she didn't want to tell Hy; not yet, anyway.

Clem sat, enjoying her wine.