"What a marvelous idea this was! What an exquisitely marvelous idea!" exclaimed Michael Wilson as he pulled his Jeep Rubicon onto the gravel parking lot of the Mad Hatter Restaurant at the west end of Sanibel Island. "Whose idea was it for a wine dinner here?" he asked his dinner companion.
"It was Jeffrey's," replied Alison. "He is even paying for the whole thing since he and Marti are hosting it."
"Well, I for one am expecting some mighty fine wines," proclaimed the doctor. He stopped the engine, slid to the ground from the high seat, and joined Alison who was already waiting for him on the sidewalk beneath the canopied entrance to the small restaurant.
"I am certain you will have some mighty fine wines tonight," she reassured him, mimicking his earlier phrase. "Why don't you trade that big thing for something I don't have to climb down out of?" she asked him.
"I like my Rubicon," he said pathetically.
"I know you do, Sweetie," she mocked him with pursed and puckered lips, speaking in exaggerated sympathetic tones - almost in baby talk. "I know you do."
Wilson took it for a sign of affection and let it slide. Always the actress, he thought. When they went in, two of the couples were there already. The Mad Hatter was closed otherwise because of this private dinner party.
Jeffrey approached them with glasses of champagne. "Welcome," he said, playing the host.
Marti came up on his side. She had a champagne flute in one hand and an appetizer in the other. "You must get one of these," she indicated. It's some sort of smoked char with chopped veggies on an almond cracker. It's yummy."
Chef Kurt joined the group to top off Jeffrey's champagne. He was both chef and wait staff tonight because the affair was so small - only five couples. As Chef Kurt poured, Michael Wilson noted that the bottle was a 2010 Louis Roederer Cristal! Incredible! Simply amazing, he thought. This is going to be an evening to remember. He couldn't have been more prescient.
