“So, did you like it better than The Shop Around the Corner?” Jack had certainly seemed into the movie.
“I did, actually. She was basically Martha Stewart fifty years ahead of her time. I thought that was neat.” Marianne did, too. It just showed that nothing – particularly human nature – ever really changed. “But let me ask you something. Is that why you’re wearing the fake fur coat? To look like she did in the movie?”
Marianne didn’t quite blush. What was there to be embarrassed about? It was no different than people wearing sports jerseys or Star Trek shirts, and nobody got embarrassed about that. “Guilty as charged. I like to take something from the characters of whatever movie I’m playing. Maybe if you’re really nice to me, I’ll show you a picture from when I dyed my hair to look like Maureen O’Hara last year.”
There were probably one or two pictures from that disaster lurking somewhere on her phone, so it wasn’t a completely empty promise.
“You could have dressed like Santa Claus.”
“Did it,” she said. There were plenty of photos of that still on her phone, and she showed him one. “Three years ago. I even glued the fake beard on.”
“You wore it well,” he answered. “By the way, were you planning on leaving any chili fries for me?” They were back at Della’s Diner. They were even sitting at the same table they’d been at last time.
“I’m hungry! Someone ate all the popcorn and didn’t leave me any.” If he could tease her, she could tease him right back. She was pretty sure Josh Chadwick had been right, that Jack was interested in her, but either wasn’t consciously aware of it, or didn’t have the nerve to come right out and say so. Of course, she wasn’t saying anything, either.
“You’re the one who put the extra butter on. You can’t blame me for eating it.” Well, that was true. Extra butter was hard to resist.
“Fair enough. And I did leave some fries, and there’s still some chili there, too.” She could let him have a few fries. That was a small enough sacrifice. He had let her drag him to the movie, after all.
Jack stuffed the last few fries into his mouth – somewhat theatrically, in Marianne’s opinion – and started to speak before he’d gotten them all down. She thought he was trying to say her name, and gesturing past her, towards the window. She turned around to see what he was reacting to, and it was a woman with curly auburn hair, tapping on the window and pointing towards her.
Audrey Foster, therapist, and Josh Chadwick’s fiancée. And her occasional dog-walking acquaintance, since Audrey only lived a block away from her. Clearly Audrey had something to say to her right now, and as absurd as it was, Marianne wondered if it had something to do with her conversation with Josh earlier today. “Marianne! I’m glad I found you. The girl at the box office…”
“Jessie,” Marianne said automatically.
“Jessie, she said she saw you come in here. You need to get home, it’s your dog.”
“Asta!” She hadn’t scheduled Stacie to walk Asta tonight, because she hadn’t planned to be out late. “Poor thing must be barking his head off.”
Audrey nodded. “I was walking Toby, and I heard Asta. I think he must have heard Toby, or smelled him, and that set him off.”
“Thanks, Audrey. I’ll go home right now. He’s probably been crossing his poor little legs for the last two hours.” She turned her attention back to her date, if that’s what this dinner was. “Jack, you want to come meet Asta? Oh, and this is Audrey Foster, she’s a neighbor.” She wasn’t sure why she didn’t mention Audrey’s profession; it just seemed better at the moment not to. “Audrey, this is Jack. He works for the state tourism board.” She dug a couple of twenty dollar bills out of her pocket, held them up until their waitress saw them, and then put them down on the table. “Dog emergency,” she called out. “Let’s go, Jack. And thanks again, Audrey.”
It was a five minute walk to her house, and the temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees in the hour they’d been at dinner. She was toasty in her faux fur coat, but Jack was shivering. She put an arm around him, for the little good it would do, and he eagerly – too eagerly, maybe? – drew close to her.
“Which house is yours?” He didn’t wait for her to answer; they could both hear Asta from halfway down the block. “Oh, that’s the one, right? The blue and yellow?” Marianne appreciated that he didn’t say, “the one with the fading paint” or “the one with the potholes in the driveway.”
“That’s it. Now stay back a little. Asta’s friendly, but even so, you never know what can happen when a dog doesn’t know you.”
She didn’t have to worry. All Asta cared about was going out. He leapt past Marianne the instant she opened the front door, bounded down the three steps to the lawn, and immediately relieved himself at the base of the elm tree that straddled the border between her property and the next house over. “Watch him, and I’ll go and get his leash.”
Jack did, not that Asta was going anywhere. Once the dog had taken care of his business, he sat there patiently waiting for his owner. “He just wanted his mom,” Jack said when she got back outside and clipped Asta’s leash on. “Smart dog.”
“He is,” Marianne cooed. “Aren’t you? You want a little walk? Come on, boy, let’s go.” She didn’t ask Jack if he wanted to go on a walk around the neighborhood, but he followed all the same.
“So is this my fault, for throwing you off your schedule? Do I need to apologize to Asta?”
Marianne laughed. “I’m the one who should apologize. I should have texted Stacie. She’s my dog-walker. Another high-schooler. She sends me reports every day.” She pulled up this afternoon’s text and showed Jack. “That girl has a good head on her shoulders. Very organized.”
“Like you,” Jack said.
“You haven’t seen my office,” Marianne answered. “That’s about the last word I’d use.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jack said. She noted that he was no longer shivering. Had he been putting on a show just to get her to cuddle up with him on the walk back here? She couldn’t really fault him if he had; it had felt very nice. “You run that theater single-handedly, and from what I can see, you’ve got it operating like a well-oiled machine.”
It didn’t feel that way, but if that’s what he saw from the outside, then she was doing something right. And so was Jack; Asta was trotting alongside him, nuzzling at his leg. “Wow, he doesn’t usually warm up like this to new people. I mean, he’s friendly, but this isn’t like him.” It wasn’t like her, either, falling into a relationship – if that’s what this was, or might be – so quickly.
“I guess I just have a way with dogs,” Jack said. And women, or at least one woman, too. “But one question. What kind of a name is…”
Marianne stopped dead in her tracks. Asta, at the end of his leash, yelped in surprise. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. If you seriously don’t know who he’s named after, I – I just don’t know what to say to that.” Even if you weren’t a fan of old movies, how could any decently-educated person not know who Asta was?
“Well, I don’t.” He tried not to sound defensive; she had to give him that much credit. And, maybe she was being unfair. She’d grown up with these movies, they had been her whole life. That wasn’t true for everyone.
“The Thin Man?” He gave her a look that wasn’t quite blank, but it was close. “1934? William Powell and Myrna Loy as Nick and Nora Charles? Husband and wife detectives?” She got that same look again. “OK, The Thin Man was a movie. Made in 1934.”
He didn’t manage to keep all the sarcasm out of his voice, but, again, she could hear that he was trying to. “I figured that much out.”
“Well, in the movie – movies, actually, there are six of them in all. And in all the movies, Asta is their dog. He’s a terrier, so when I adopted my Asta, what else could I name him?”
“I guess you’ll have to show me that movie, too. At least the first one, anyway.”
That would not be a problem. One of the things she loved most about her job was introducing great movies to people who had never seen them. Or, in this case, heard of them. “Done. Only – how long are you in town for? The schedule is set until the last week in February.”
And then he spoke words that verged on blasphemous. “Why can’t we just watch it on video?”
Marianne just stared at him. He’d been to the Esmerelda twice now, and he still didn’t get it? No, that wasn’t fair. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Center herself, as her old yoga instructor always told her. “We could,” she said. “But the thing is, these movies were made to be seen on the big screen, with an audience. You shouldn’t see them for the first time on a TV. It can’t always be helped, but I do my best to bring these movies to people the right way. It’s – I know how this sounds, but I think of it as my mission in life.” And even that was understating it, but she figured it got the point across. She only hoped she hadn’t just scared him off with her missionary zeal.