Chapter 23: Grace
Matteo ushers me through the glass doors of Osprey, one of Chicago's most exclusive restaurants. It normally takes six months to get a reservation. I'm a little stunned when we walk right in, and the maître de practically throws himself at Matteo, gushing about how delighted he is to see him. We're immediately escorted to a table right in the middle of the dining room.
Feeling conspicuous, I glance around from beneath my lashes. All eyes are trained on the man I'm sitting with. A few female ones size me up as well. I feel woefully underdressed. I'm in a white blouse and navy-blue dress pants and a pair of low heels. I'm on my feet all day, giving tours of the museum, so comfortable shoes are a must contrary to what Jonathan thinks. This is the kind of place where women are draped in elegant cocktail dresses, and men are decked out in expensive suits.
Matteo fits right in.
Me? Not so much.