THE LOOK ON HELEN’S face when we walk into the restaurant Friday evening tells me that I hit the jackpot.
“Tom!” she gasps. “This place looks incredible. And they have a live band and dancing.”
“Why do you think I chose it?” I whisper in her ear. “It’s been months since I held you in my arms on a dance floor.”
“Let’s just hope this evening ends better than that one did,” she grins.
The maitre‘d shows us to our table and presents us with menus and the wine list. My eyes manage not to bug out when I see the prices.
“Tom!” Helen whispers. “This place is pricey. Are you sure it’s all right?”
“It’s fine,” I say. “You remember the reward money that I received for my involvement in Bellamy?”
“Yes, and I understood that you were going to invest it for your retirement.”
“And I have. But one
