The yellow cab maneuvered downtown through traffic with Stan and Peggy kissing in the backseat like teenagers. At last, the cab pulls up to Stan's building. Stan reaches into his wallet, pulls out a bill and hands the cab driver a twenty, and holds out his left hand for Peggy.
"Keep the change" Stan tells the cabbie.
"Whoa, buddy...you sure? That's a lotta dough!"
Stan assured him, "Yeah, you did great, got us here in record time!"
Peggy loves watching him with people, loves his ease and generosity with all people, not just those he needed to impress. He treats everyone - waiters, children, executives - with the same respect and affable nature. Of course, she also watched him mature, mellow out, and grow into himself. He was so obnoxious to her when they first met. God almighty! She had his number though. After a rough start (and a bit of a kick in the butt from Don) Peggy did find a way to work with him. Don was right, Stan is very talented. He continually impressed her, and once the two of them dropped their guard, they meshed well together into a real team. She smiles at him, thinking back to those early days. Stan pulls her out of the cab with both hands now.
"Honey...we're home!" Stan bellows loudly. She decides he still has a bit of frat boy in him, just enough to be boyishly charming.
Peggy starts the climb up the steps to Stan's third floor apartment, with Stan behind her. "Lovin' this view, I have to tell ya". Peggy turns to him and sticks out her tongue.
At the door to the apartment, Stan fumbles with the keys, unlocking three sets of locks and swings the door open. Peggy hasn't been here in a long while. She wasn't about to just 'drop in' while Elaine was living there. She didn't even try to get to know Elaine, saw no need to. Plus, Peggy decided she didn't even like her, so she couldn't be bothered. It began to dawn on her now that it was sheer jealousy that she was feeling, and she felt a little ashamed of herself. Looking around, the apartment is really pretty neat. A few magazines on the coffee table, an afghan draped over the couch (she thinks she remembers him telling her that his aunt made it for him...brown, yellow and orange yarn in chevron stripes) His desk in the corner by the window is the only piece of furniture truly covered, but it's not really clutter, his pencils, paints and brushes are in abundance, in jelly jars and cans. She looks at his artwork on the walls, sketches of the skyline, a beautiful pastel sketch he did of the Boat House in Central Park, a charcoal rendering of the arch in Washington Square. Peggy feels like she is discovering him all over again.
"Sit down". Stan says to her softly, gesturing Peggy over to the couch. "What can I get you...want to smoke some weed?"
"Nah, no weed." she hakes her head.
"Bourbon?"
"No...too strong." she tells him.
"Too strong? Since when?" Stan has a smirk on his face.
"I just want to take it slowly, and really be here" she tried to explain.
Stan understands she is serious and picks up both of her hands. "You ARE here, for as long as you want, whatever you want. And I'm here for you. Whatever you want, it's yours. How about some wine, is wine okay?"
She smiles at him. "Wine is fine. What do you have?"
Stan gets up and goes into the kitchen. He comes out with two wine glasses and a bottle of chianti in an iconic straw wrapped bottle. He puts the glasses on the coffee table and fills each of them. He takes a matchbook out of his pants pocket and lights candles on the coffee table and end tables. The sun is slowly sinking and the soft orange glow in the room makes him look utterly beautiful. "Every good Italian has to have a bottle of chianti hanging around." Stan lifts his glass and extends it to clink with Peggy's. She's a wordsmith, but for the life of her, she can't think of anything to say. She takes a long sip and decides to test out the words she spoke earlier. "I love you Stan"