Page 143 of Never Invite a Vampire to Dinner

“You have two drawers.”

I stop. “I have two drawers?”

“You have had two drawers for some time. I have not mentioned the second because I was concerned you might interpret it as pressure and reallocate.”

I close my eyes. “So what’s the card for?”

“It is an invitation to dinner.”

“I’ve eaten at your house.”

“No,” he says, and I wait. “You have eaten food at my house. Frequently. You’ve brought dinner to my house. You’ve cooked dinner at my house. Once you arrived with a lobster roll and ate it in my library while explaining to me why the mayor was an idiot.”

“He was being an idiot.”

“I agreed with you at the time.”

“What’s your point?”

“I have never invited you to dinner.”

That stops me.

“You made a place for me at your table, Penny,” he says after a moment. “I would like to make one for you at mine.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

I look down at the engraved card. “Saturday?”

“Seven o’clock.”

“Should I dress up?”

There is a pause. “Wear the red dress.”

I grin. “You have a preference.”

“I have several. The red one is the only one relevant to the question.”

“Should I bring wine?”

“No.”

“Flowers?”

“No.”

“Dessert?”

He lets out a noise that would be a sigh in any other man. “I have made arrangements. I would like you to allow me to have made them.”

That’s a very strange sentence. I look at the card again. “What are you doing?”

“Inviting you to dinner.”

And he hangs up. He has learned to do that this year and is far too pleased about it.