Dave repressed a sigh, squared his shoulders, and walked behind the man to a group of Dave’s friends, who were sitting at tables under brightly colored umbrellas at the opposite end of the pool. As Dave passed, the red-haired man looked up at him and gave him an inviting smile. Dave returned the smile. Probably thinks I’m checking him out and is glad I just walked on by, he thought. He took a swallow of his wine and wished now he’d made it a scotch—not so he’d have the courage to make a move, but to dull the depressing feelings that were surfacing.