It was late March, and the wind was rattling last year's leaves down the street, where the frozen puddles reflected bits of the sunlight into the empty branches of the trees. The cold air rang with the incessant traffic, punctuated by the calls of robins overhead. It was a hopeful air, after the long winter, and on this sunny Saturday, people were out window shopping along the stores that lined the boulevard, looking for new clothes to wear in the spring, new television sets, and new books to read. New people to meet. The restaurants were busy with people talking about the things they had just bought over lunch, and you could see young couples conversing excitedly on their first dates. The waitresses were busy running plates out to them.

In that respect, it was just like any other Saturday afternoon to Lauren. She had been working in this particular restaurant for three years, ever since she graduated college, and the endless plates of burgers with French fries, grilled cheese sandwiches, Philadelphia cheese steaks and meat loafs with mashed potatoes made no difference to her. She majored in music with a minor in education and studied at a local college, moonlighting in an alternative band that played in some of the local bars. But the band fell apart when the drummer moved to Boston to be a part of a more widely known band he had found on the internet, and the lead singer got a job in a liquor store that his uncle owned. She had thought about going to graduate school and becoming a teacher, but she couldn't afford the tuition and got the job waiting on tables to save money. Then she had an argument with her parents about her plans for her future and moved into an apartment in a neighboring town, and she settled into the dull routine of working to pay bills. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. That's the way life goes.

During this time she had a brief fling with one of the waiters, a guy named Jon who sometimes played guitar and sang in a garage band called Seismic. She was lonely and her future seemed indeterminate and she was trying to find a pathway that suited her among all the myriad pathways across the world that seemed to radiate out all around her. They had a shared interest in music, and this had seemed hopeful to her, but once when she told him that she had written a song for him, he was quickly distracted by someone else in the bar recognizing him from a show that he once played there. He took her out to dinner a few times, but she found that he had a hard time taking his eyes off of buxom young women who were in the same room with him, and he had a habit of taking cell phone calls on dates; half the time they were driving around she found herself listening to the radio while he talked to someone else about getting a new amp or booking a gig in a bar somewhere. The night she helped him decorate his Christmas tree, he tried to make out with her and she told him she wasn't in the mood. When he persisted, she told him she didn't want to see him anymore, and left. He seemed surprised and put out but she didn't care and when she walked out of his apartment into the cold, dark night, she literally took a breath of fresh air.

In many ways, it seemed that she was in the winter of her life.

She was friendly with a couple of the other waitresses who worked in the restaurant, and they went out once in a while for drinks, but it was hard when she was alone in her apartment. There were times when she would turn off the TV and just sit in the dark room, looking out of the windows at the streetlights outside, that never seemed to move, wondering what her life was coming to and where she had gone wrong. She liked music, she had an outgoing personality, she could laugh, she wasn't bad looking; so why was she alone? Should she have stayed with Jon? At least, he was some kind of boyfriend. She missed that good night kiss at the end of the night, and that feeling of being in someone's arms, and without that, she felt depraved. Sometimes it seemed to her that her life was stretching in front of her like a paved parking lot, covered in snow. The mornings brought little relief. She would wake up, make a cup of coffee, and go back to work.

So that's where she was on that Saturday morning in March when this rather sad looking guy walked into the restaurant and asked for a booth. Lauren noticed his broad shoulders, and his finely chiseled features as he strode in with his navy p coat, along with his worried looking expression. He walked with his hands in his pockets. He unbuttoned his coat and she noticed his neatly pressed, pastel colored collard shirt and a pair of grey slacks.

"Just one?" she asked, smiling as she always did, in spite of everything around her.

"It's just me today," the guy said. He looked like he wanted to talk to someone. A woman. Lauren was only too happy to do the talking.

"We have some great specials today," she said, going into her spiel with a little extra enthusiasm. The man seemed pleasantly surprised by her upbeat attitude, and looked up at her intently. "We have this orange pork chop that comes with garlic mashed potatoes and baked onions. It's only $14.95, and it is famous around here." She noticed that he was looking up at her as one looked up at a skylight in a foyer.

"It sounds good, but I really don't like pork," the guy said. He seemed sympathetic of the effort she was making.

"How about this T-bone steak with French fries and fire roasted peppers? That's one of my favorites. It comes with an incredible sauce. The chef makes it himself from a secret recipe."

The man rested his chin on the palm of his hand, looking up at her as if she had saved his life. "Sure," he said, "Why not." Lauren scribbled his order on her pad, glancing down at him as she wrote.

"How would you like that cooked?" she asked him.

"Medium well," he answered, leaning toward her. "Listen, I've had a rough day, I have to admit. It's nice to find someone in the world as cheerful as you are."

Lauren gave him a long look, still smiling. "Well," she said, "I'm pretty tired, but I don't let things get me down."

"It looks pretty busy today," he said, looking around at the boisterous tables.

"I've been here since 7 o'clock," she said, laughing, "It really is more of an adventure than a job."

The man chuckled, still looking at her. "I can imagine," he said. He seemed to want the conversation to go on.

"Can I get you a drink with that?" she asked him.

"Sure," he said. "How about a beer?"

"Bottle or tap?"

"Bottled is fine."

"We have Bud, Bud light, Michelob, Coors, Sam Adams, or Heineken."

"Bud is fine."

"I'll be right back," she said, "Don't you go anywhere." She looked over her shoulder at him on her way from the table, and she saw that he was still looking at her, with his head in his hand, smiling.

One of her friends brushed up against her while she was waiting for the beer. "That guy is looking at you," she said to Lauren.

"I know," Lauren said. "Isn't he kind of cute?"

"So you're into him?" her friend raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe," Lauren said, with a shrug of her shoulders. She put the beer on the tray and headed back to the guy in the booth.

When he saw her coming, he sat up and smiled, again.

"I'm back," she said. She set the empty glass on the table and poured the beer into it, as if she were performing some kind of magic trick.

The guy watched her and smiled approvingly when she was done. "Thanks," he said. He looked up at her as if he were waiting for her to say something, so she stood on her hip next to his chair. "So tell me why you are having such a rough day on the first day of spring," Lauren said.

He leaned back. "Well," he said, "I don't know if you know anything about investment banking, but I gave one of my clients some advice he isn't too happy with. We may lose the account, and my boss isn't thrilled about that."

Lauren didn't give a fig about investment banking, but she did care about the guy, and what might happen to him. "What did you tell him?" she asked him.

"I told him to invest in a company that makes portable memory devices for home computers, and now the technology is obsolete, and the company is going belly up."

Lauren stared at him for a moment, with her eyebrows raised. Then she burst out laughing. The guy seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he started laughing with her.

"What's so funny about that?" he said. "The shareholders are out millions."

"Millions?" Lauren said. Then she laughed again. He laughed with her, in the middle of the crowded restaurant, with everyone turning to look at them. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'd better check on that steak." Then she turned to go.

She went back into the kitchen. Her friend pulled up next to her. "So?" she asked Lauren, "What's going on?"

"I think he's some kind of stockbroker or something," Lauren said, "But he lost millions of dollars or something."

"Millions?" her friend said. Then they both burst out laughing.

"I've got to get his steak," Lauren told her.

"Just your luck," her friend called after her, "The one stockbroker you finally meet, and he's losing money."

Lauren didn't really care. There was something about this guy, the way he was handling misfortune, the way he seemed to be looking to her to cheer him up. There was more to him than met the eye, that was for sure. She wanted to find out more about him. She felt that she had the power to lift his spirits, and that had lifted her own spirits in the bargain. She brought the steak and fries out to him carrying them on her tray as if she were bringing him a whole change of fortune.

He watched her coming to the booth. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He looked up at her as she placed the plate in front of him in triumph.

"Well, what do you think of that?" she said, "Don't you think that will make you forget the millions of dollars?"

"I'm sure it's going to be fantastic," he said, picking up his knife and fork.

Lauren lingered over him. "After all, money isn't everything," she said.

He looked up at her, standing there in her skirt and apron, brushing back a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, it's not." he said. "Listen. How would you like to forget about this place for a while?"

"Oh I'd love to do that, but how am I going to do that?"

"Let me take you out to the movies," the guy said.

"The movies?" Lauren said, smiling, "How do you know if I like the movies?"

"You don't like the movies?"

Lauren shook her head.

"So what do you like to do?"

"Drink scotch," she told him, laughing, watching his surprised expression. "And music. I like music. I play guitar."

The man looked impressed. "I love the guitar," he said, quickly. "Let me have your number, and I will call you. I'll think of something, I promise. What do you say?"

"OK," Lauren said. She scribbled her number down on a piece of paper from her pad, and gave it to him.

His name was Frank, and he called her two days later. He wanted to know if she would go with him to listen to this musician who was going to play acoustic guitar at a bar in the village. She laughed in her good natured way and told him she would go. He told her he liked the sound of her laugh. She asked him if he had gotten into trouble over losing the millions of dollars. He chuckled and reminded her that she had told him money wasn't everything. Then he told her he would survive. He was looking forward to seeing her again.

The next few days seemed like sunny, spring days to Lauren. Each day got brighter than the last. She had her hair done. She bought a new blouse. She found herself looking out of the window at the brightening sky, the lengthening days, excited by the prospect of her date, daydreaming about what he would look like. She felt like writing a song for him and she wondered what he would think of it.

The day of her date, she showered and shampooed her hair, and very carefully blow dried it out. She put on her new blouse. She painted her nails and put on her best perfume. Then, she waited, looking out of the window with an excited, pounding heart.

His car pulled up and she watched him get out and walk up to the townhouse. He was driving a late model Buick, that looked comfortable. When she opened the door, he looked very dapper indeed and her spirits rose. He told her she looked beautiful, and he sounded like he meant it. She gave him a quick tour of her apartment and he looked around approvingly at her collection of tables and chairs, pictures and knick knacks. He asked her how long she had been living on her own.

"A couple of years," she told him. "I had a fight with my parents, and I moved out." He looked pensive when she said this. "How about you?" she asked him.

"I've been on my own for a while," Frank said. "I moved out when my parents moved to Florida after I graduated from college. A couple of years after they moved, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. She died last year. I didn't get to spend as much time with her as I would have liked." When he said this, he looked out of Lauren's window, as though looking for someone out there, somewhere.

Lauren could see the sad look on his face again when he said this, and she instinctively reached out and touched his arm. "I'm so sorry," she said.

He turned to look at her, and when he saw how sympathetic she was, he smiled faintly. "It's been tough," he said, "But I'm feeling better today." Then, he took her hand and squeezed it, and they went out.

On their way to the bar, he asked her what the fight with her parents had been about. Lauren told him that her father had thought that she had wasted her time in college, that all of her years of fooling around with music had been a waste of time, and she had gotten mad and moved out. He glanced at her and told her he didn't think music was ever a waste of time. But then he said something she would never forget. He said: "If I were you, I would make up with him, because you never know how much time you have left with him." Right then and there she knew how much family meant to him, and she sensed that he might not give up on her that easily.

Frank turned out to be polite, a careful listener, and he was attentive to her during the date. He did not answer any cell phone calls, he did not make any, and he did not look around the bar at the other women in it. While she listened to the music, he watched her. He asked her if she liked the guitarist, and she told him she did. He asked her how long she had playing the guitar, and whether she had written any songs. Then he did something no-one else had ever done. He asked her if she would write a song for him and play it some time. She turned to him and smiled, and told him she would.

Afterwards, they walked outside in the streets under the stars, talking about the musicians they liked, how they had ended up in the jobs they were in, their families, their friends, and the places they wanted to see someday. Frank had a sister in Florida, she was married, and expecting a baby. He was going to be an uncle, and he told her how excited he was, how he was planning on buying a teddy bear for him, and taking him to ball games someday. Ahead of her, the streetlights seemed to be leading off somewhere, when he said this. He told her he liked photography, and he said he wanted to take a picture of her while she was playing the guitar, looking out of her apartment window. She leaned into him when he said this, and laughed. They walked a block without saying anything. Then she asked him about his mom.

He was quiet for a minute, and then he told her he was mostly disappointed that she hadn't lived to see him happily married. She had never gotten to see her grandchildren. Lauren looked at him when he said this. He smiled, and she leaned into him again. He took her hand and held it. It made her feel warmer. Even though it was their first date, she knew she would remember this night forever.

After he took her home, he asked if he could call her and she said yes. Then, he asked if he could kiss her good night, and she smiled and held her face up to him. His kiss was soft, and just a bit excited. From the upstairs window of her apartment, she watched him get into his car. He turned once, and waved to her.

That very night, at the very beginning of spring, she could feel the sky growing lighter, feel the air getting warmer, and see the daffodils coming up from under the snow, bringing their beauty back into the world.