Steve looked down at the handwritten note he held in his hands. Via Quadronno Café 73rd Street. Red dress. Yep, this was the place. Steve had gone to see George one last time after he left the teddy bear at Peggy's doorstep that Christmas Eve. George had told him that Peggy went to that café every Sunday afternoon, wearing a red dress.

"Steve," George had said, grabbing Steve's arm as he turned to leave. "Tell her I say hello. And, please, don't forget, she-she's not going to look like the Peggy you once knew. She's old now. We all are. Some… some more than others. Good luck." Now as Steve stood in front of the café, he began to worry. What if she isn't there? What if she can't make it because she's sick? How will I recognize her? Other women wear red dresses, right? Gathering up all the courage he had, he made his way inside. The bell rang as he swung the door open. The young barista looked at him, really looked at him. It wasn't every day such attractive men came to that dumb hole in the wall. But he didn't notice. Because he was keeping his eye out for a much prettier woman he cared far more about.

"Excuse me sir," the barista cleared her throat. "Can I help you?" Steve didn't hear her, because at that moment, he saw her, in the very back of the café, sitting by the window. She was wearing the same red dress she wore that night at the bar. It was faded from the years, but it was the same to him. He walked across the faded wooden planks of the deserted café that creaked under his boots and stopped when he reached her table. Slowly, she turned her head to meet him. Looking up she caught his eye. Steve stood there solemnly, not knowing what to say. George was wrong. She looked exactly the way he remembered her.

His eyes watered as she looked him in the eyes. "Steve, is that you? It can't be," she muttered in a trembling voice. Steve nodded, and sitting down in front of her, he took her hand. They sat there for a minute, him staring into her brown eyes that even at 92 years old were as bright as the sun. Her hand felt small inside of his, and he could feel her bones underneath her skin. A tear fell down his face as he finally decided to speak.

"Peggy, I—I've missed you so much," he whispered. Peggy smiled and caressed his hand. It was as though these past forty years were a dream, and she was finally waking up. She was finally waking up next to the man she would have spent the rest of her life with. He was there. And as they sat there, a frail old lady and a tall, robust young man, it seemed as though time forgot its ways.

"You know, Steve, all this time, you never left my heart. You know, I'm still waiting for my dance. Sure, my knees aren't quite what they once were. But I've been waiting for the right partner," Peggy breathed, her voice catching. She smiled at him, and Steve let out a chuckle. Their voices resonated in the empty room. Yet that quiet emptiness was soon interrupted by the sound of music. They turned as the barista left an old stereo on the table next to them. She wiped her hands on her towel and shrugged.

"I don't mean to bother you two, but are you familiar with the song "It's Been A Long, Long Time" by Harry James and Kitty Kallen? It's a real good one to dance to," she smiled. Peggy and Steve smiled at each other, and he stood to help her up. The barista turned to go back to the counter but Steve stopped her.

"Thank you ma'am," he whispered, shaking her hand. "But how did you know?" She looked him straight in the eye.

"My job is to keep my customers happy. I got this job for a reason, didn't I?" she smirked. Steve chuckled. He took Peggy's hand in his and let himself sway to the music. He held her close, and for once since he woke up, he didn't feel so desperate, so all alone. Because he finally had that one thing he had died for, the same thing he would live for. He had his Peggy, and he had been waiting for this a long, long time.