By the time my ankle healed, PB and I were making plans for our future. There was no doubt — we were meant to be.
My mother’s diamond ring had been tucked away in a lockbox at the bank for several years. When mom died, it was understood that I would have her ring someday. So PB not only had to ask for my hand in marriage, but also for the ring to put on my finger. He drove to my dad’s farm early one winter morning to ask for permission to marry me. After having a man-to-man talk, the two of them went into town to get the ring. PB waited in the lobby of the Citizen’s State Bank and soon my dad walked out of the vault holding a little white box. There were tears streaming down his face.
On the night of December 23rd, PB planned a special date. He wanted to propose at one of the nicest places in the city — The Edgewater. When he called to make a reservation, they asked him if he would like a room.
“How nice, ” he thought, “this restaurant has private rooms for a quiet dinner for two. That sounds romantic.”
“Sure, reserve me a room,” he said.
When he picked me up at my house, the snow was starting to fall. It was a beautiful drive through downtown Madison. He looked so handsome in his suit coat and a tie. I was all dressed up and felt the excitement in the air. We walked into The Edgewater and PB told the man we had a reservation.
The concierge handed us a key and gave us a room number.
I looked at the key with a confused frown.
I looked at the man with a confused frown.
Then I looked at PB with a confused frown.
“I made a reservation for dinner,” my date said, his face turning red.
“You made a reservation for a hotel room,” the man replied.
“This is a hotel??? I thought this was a restaurant with nice little rooms to eat dinner in…..”
The staff quickly found a table for two in the restaurant, right next to the window overlooking the lake.
I said “yes”. To the proposal of marriage, not the room.