Dancing with Peter had always been nice. Together we weren't winning any contests but we fit well and had a good time. The pace slowed and I slipped into his arms for a slow dance. His arms circled me and we slowly swayed along the floor. I nestled my head against his shoulder and happily closed my eyes, lost in the moment.The music stopped and I lifted my face to his. He kissed me, just a touch of lips, but with the promise of so much more. I knew my eyes sparkled. In sheer joy I spun around, and collided with a waiter carrying a loaded serving tray.Everything moved in slow motion. The waiter made a desperate attempt to hold the tray. I tried to steady him. Peter sprang forward to catch the edge of the tray. There was one frozen moment when it appeared everything was saved, and then the loaded gravy boat slid to the edge of the tray and poured its contents down Peter."Sumbitch," Peter gasped.Oh my god, oh my god," I moaned. I hurriedly grabbed the napkins from the table and tried in. New York three in a row and Brooklyn the sixth game." The Yankees score 9 ... Brooklyn nothing." No sir. I don't have that in my mind." I've kept a log of my dreams ... my dad is a lawyer. He's notarized each prediction before the fact." No sir ... he won't bet." I'll wire you a thousand dollars ... you bet it on the series ... I'll split the winnings." Wanna bet the Rose Bowl?"I started laughing... "I'll get my dad."I left the room ... ten or fifteen minutes later, my dad came out with an envelope for me to take to the bank. That's all he did ... never spoke a word ... just handed it to me. It said, Chief Teller: Clinton National Bank.I walked down town to the bank and handed in the note.The teller opened the note ... read it and looked at me."How do you know Bill Buffat?" Read about him in the Journal."He was typing and writing and doing magical things with ledgers and like that. I didn't have a clue."I'll be right back."He took some papers up the stairs. He was up there quite.
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