Chapter 13“Look, there's the usual Friday night lineup,” he said, cruising slowly along Clement Street. “Being pacified with free wine.”
“It's crowded,” she said, straining to catch a glimpse. “It'll take forever for that line to get inside.”
“Want some wine? It's worth the wait.”
“I don't like to eat late. It's past eight thirty.”
He looked at his watch. “You going somewhere? It's Friday night.”
“How about across the intersection?”
“The Pier? Some friends once recommend that place.”
“The seafood's fresh catch.”
Their conversation was light through the soup and salad courses, mainly talking about the many great eating places in San Francisco. In the immediate area alone, Rachael named seven or eight other restaurants she favored with ethnic menus and each superb.
“Um-m,” he said,
