The Reservation

Ana and her husband, Liam, live in Dublin. Last spring it was their tenth wedding anniversary, and Ana wanted a quiet, romantic dinner. On Monday she phoned Rosie's, a small Italian restaurant near the river.

"Good afternoon, Rosie's," said a young man. Behind him there was a lot of noise from the kitchen. "Hello, I'd like to book a table for Saturday, please," said Ana. "For two, at eight." "Sorry, could you repeat that?" "Two, at eight!" "Perfect."

Ana gave her name and phone number and hung up. In the reservations book, the waiter wrote: "Ana Byrne, Saturday, 22 people."

On Thursday the restaurant phoned the house. Ana was at work, so Liam answered. "I'm calling to confirm your anniversary dinner on Saturday," said the waiter. "A table for twenty-two at eight. Is that correct?" Liam was surprised, but he said, "Er... yes, that's right."

Liam thought: "Ana is planning a big party, and it's a secret!" He was curious, so he phoned his brother. "Are you coming to the party on Saturday?" "What party?" his brother asked. Then he phoned Ana's sister and their friends. Nobody knew anything about a party, but they all wanted to come.

On Saturday at eight, Ana and Liam walked into Rosie's. Ana stopped at the door. At a long table in the middle of the room, twenty-two people were waiting: her parents, her sister, Liam's brother and lots of friends. "Surprise!" they shouted.

"What's happening?" Ana asked. "Your table for twenty-two, madam," said the waiter with a big smile. Ana looked at the waiter, then at Liam, and then she started to laugh. "I said two... at eight!"

It wasn't a quiet, romantic dinner. It was loud and long. But Ana and Liam agree: it was their best anniversary ever. And now, when Ana books a table, she always says the numbers very slowly.