It had been a wonderful night. Marianne hadn’t been on a date like that in – she couldn’t even remember, which meant it was far too long. And nothing had happened, not even a goodnight kiss. All it was, was a movie, half a meal and a dog walk.
It was the dog walk that had clinched it. She’d never seen Asta take to someone new so quickly. Almost as quickly as she herself had taken to Jack. Or as quickly as Jack had taken to her, for that matter.
It was a little bit odd that, after two dates, she still knew almost nothing about him beyond his last name. She didn’t have a phone number or email address for him, she had only a vague description of what he did for a living, and she didn’t even know where in Romance he was staying.
She could have gone online and tried to look him up, but that was distasteful. Besides, she wasn’t very good at it. Maybe she could ask Jessie to do it. Her teenaged employee was frighteningly good at digging up information about people online, which probably explained why she’d gone through five boyfriends just since her senior year began in September.
No, that wasn’t the way to go. He wasn’t being secretive, after all. It’s just that none of those subjects had happened to come up yet.
But there was a subject that kept coming up, and Marianne wasn’t sure what to do about it. There was a new email from her Duck-Man this morning. He hadn’t waited for a response to his last email, he’d gone ahead and written again.
Dear Esme,
I know I ought to wait until I hear from you, but I have news that I need to share with you. In my last message, I said that I would be busy for the next three weeks on that major project with the Oregon Farmers Alliance. That remains true, but there is a complication.
The Farmers Alliance will have to be put on hold for a week, or possibly two. My brother, who lives in Florida, called me last night. He’s having something of a crisis. His wife is on an extended business trip, and he’s been left alone with their child, which would normally be no problem.
It is a problem this week, as it turns out. Pete (my brother, in case you didn’t guess) owns and operates a charter fishing boat. He just yesterday booked a job that he can’t pass up, and which will keep him on the water and without a moment to spare for anything else, for the next five days.
I imagine you can see where all this is headed. Our parents aren’t really up to the task of minding a toddler for a full week at their ages; and there’s no other extended family living nearby. So Pete called me, and, well, what could I say? He is my brother, I have to help out.
I will be flying down to Florida tonight, and returning sometime next week. I will try and keep up with my email and I hope that I’ll be reading a message from you by the time I get to the airport later today.
That is, if you’ve forgiven me, of course. I live in hope.
Sincerely,
Your Duck-Man
She had to give him props, as her high school employees would say, if they still used that phrase. Maybe it was out of date by now. Whatever the appropriate current term was, it applied to the Duck-Man. It took a lot of courage to stand up to your boss – not to mention the whole Oregon Farmers Alliance! – to do the right thing by your family.
Marianne wondered if she’d be able to leave the Esmerelda for a week on basically no notice to help out a sibling. Not that she’d ever have to make such a decision; she was an only child, and had only two first cousins, neither of whom she had spoken to in months.
What did this email mean as far as her feelings for Jack, though? If he and the Duck-Man were competing for her heart, the Duck-Man had made a major statement. Not to mention that, although she didn’t know his actual name, she now knew far more about his job and his family than she did about Jack’s.
What did it mean that this nameless man whom she’d never met in real life was more willing to open up to her than the man she’d been on two actual, in-person dates with?