“No good deed goes unpunished,’ Marianne muttered to herself. Her whole schedule was ruined.
Maybe that was an overreaction. She was only losing one night – Saturday, December 22nd. She’d just gotten off the phone with Mary McKay, director of the town’s annual stage production of A Christmas Carol. Mary had called her in a panic; the high school auditorium, the usual venue for her production, was unavailable this year, and the only other location in town with enough seats was the Esmerelda.
Of course Marianne had agreed. She loved the play, attended every year, and had even acted in it once – she’d played Belle, Scrooge’s first, lost love, in her senior year of high school. Besides, it was impossible to say no to Mary McKay.
But it left her with a big problem. Her all-time favorite Christmas movie had been scheduled for that night. The Bishop’s Wife had everything, and most of all it had Cary Grant as a mischievous angel. Marianne saw it as her duty to introduce the movie to as many people as possible. Now she couldn’t show it without bumping another movie, and then the schedule would really get out of control.
She could survive one Christmas without Cary Grant, couldn’t she?
To distract herself from that unhappy question, she checked her email, in hopes there might be an email from her favorite correspondent. And, sure enough, there was:
Dear Esme,
I am not “averse to sentiment and absurdity.” I can be as sentimental, and as absurd, as the next person. You can ask my grandparents about the former, and every one of my high school teachers about the latter.
I simply prefer both of those things in moderation. Alas, moderation is not a quality commonly found in this town. I suppose it’s my own fault. What else could I have expected from a town named Romance?
I am heartened to learn that you will not be showing An Affair to Remember. At least that’s one small victory for sanity.
Speaking of sanity, don’t you think it’s a little bit crazy that we email back and forth almost every day, in what I like to think is a friendly manner, and yet we’ve never met in person? In the interest of remedying that oversight, I would be happy to buy you a coffee (I suspect you are one of those people whose coffee orders contain multiple adjectives; I hope against hope you will prove me wrong!), and perhaps even a piece of pie?
Hoping to hear back soon,
The Duck-Man
There was no question – that was clearly an invitation to a date. But it was absurd, wasn’t it? She didn’t know his name, let alone anything else about him! And he didn’t know hers! What kind of person asked you on a date before they even asked your name, or offered theirs?
On the other hand, what did she really have to lose? He’d suggested coffee and pie, which was low pressure, definitely one point in his favor. And a second point for him was that he’d left the details to her. At least, that’s how she chose to interpret the absence of any suggestions as to day, time, location or means by which they would recognize one another.
There wasn’t any reason not to meet him, was there? And, anyway, if a reason did occur to her later, she could simply not show up, then write an appropriately contrite apology email with a suitably plausible excuse afterwards.
What the heck, right?