It was a quarter after seven when Marianne finally gave in and bought herself a coffee. Or, more accurately, a double mocha latte, with cinnamon, and whipped cream on top. The Duck-Man, whenever he finally showed, could buy her pie, and since he’d made her wait, she’d let him do it.
“Here you go,” the server said. Not just any server, Savannah Miller, who did most of the baking here, as far as Marianne knew.
“You usually work mornings, don’t you? I can’t remember the last time I saw you here after dark.”
Savannah shrugged. “Just filling in. Marcia works the closing shift, but she called in sick, so I’m helping out tonight.” She glanced at the empty seat across from Marianne. “Looks like you’re waiting for someone.”
There was no point in denying it. “Yeah. He’s just a little late, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Savannah left her to her coffee and her book. She waited another five minutes and checked her email, but there was nothing from her date. She began to tell herself that it wasn’t like him to be so late, but that was ridiculous. How did she know what was or wasn’t like him? Discovering things like that was the whole point of a date, which it was starting to look like wasn’t going to happen tonight.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
The voice, a man’s voice, with a hint – or more – of humor in it, startled her, and she came very close to snorting vanilla latte out of her nose. She took a moment to collect herself before she looked up to see whose voice it was.
“Jack?”
“At your service, Ms. Carter.” Of course he was in a good mood. He wasn’t being stood up for a date. “Are you waiting for someone?”
He sat himself down in the chair opposite her. “What makes you think that?” She knew better than to answer a question with a question. All that ever did was confirm the answer was yes.
“Well, you’re the only person who’s sitting alone,” he said, with a minimal amount of smugness. She suspected he was trying to suppress it for her sake, which she appreciated. “And you don’t have pie, which tells me you’re waiting for someone to buy it for you.” Before she could respond to that, he smiled apologetically. “Or for someone to share it with. Either way, you have to be waiting for someone, because I don’t see any other way you could resist the aroma coming out of the kitchen.” He sniffed deeply, and despite herself, she did, too.
She had no argument against his logic, or the tempting smell of fresh apple pie. But she didn’t need to tell him who she was waiting for. “I’m meeting a friend. They’ll be here shortly.” He raised an eyebrow at her use of the plural pronoun, which she now realized was a mistake. Obviously she was only waiting for one person, because there was only one open seat. And if she’d been meeting a girlfriend, she’d have said “she” rather than “they.” All she’d done was confirm she was waiting for a man – a date – who obviously should have been here already.
“Well, whoever they are,” Jack said, still smiling, “they’re very rude to keep you waiting.”
Why did he care? Was he jealous? She’d worried that her meal with Jack yesterday might count as two-timing the Duck-Man, but maybe she had it backwards. Could Jack have taken their dinner for more than it was? Was that why he was teasing her?
The last time a man – well, a boy, really – had seriously teased her was in junior year of high school. Josh Chadwick had given her a hard time for a solid three weeks in the spring, but he’d never actually asked her out. And having been raised on a steady diet of thoroughly old-fashioned romantic advice gleaned from classic movies, it never occurred to her to ask him. Which was a shame, because he was cute, and she would definitely have said yes if he’d asked her.
“They will be here shortly. And if they don’t show up, I am perfectly capable of ordering pie for myself, thank you very much.”
He took the hint. “Well, then I won’t keep you,” Jack said, standing up. “I hope your friend gets here soon.”
She’d just been borderline rude to him, and he’d done exactly what she’d meant for him to do, but now Marianne wondered if that was really the best course of action. Maybe she should invite him to stay, and let the Duck-Man, if he ever did show up, see them together. Let him see that she had other options, that there was another man who desired her company, if he couldn’t be bothered to show up on time.
No. That wasn’t fair. Maybe the Duck-Man got caught up at work, wherever that was. Or his car had a flat tire, and his phone died so he couldn’t email her. There were dozens of legitimate and totally innocent reasons why he wasn’t here and hadn’t contacted her. And, anyway, she wasn’t the game-playing type. It wasn’t in her nature to try and make someone jealous, even if it did usually work in the movies.
“I’m sure he will.” There. She’d said “he” rather than “they.” No games, no tricks. “But it was nice talking to you. By the way, did you go to the show last night?”
“I did,” he said. He said it a little hesitantly, which meant that he hadn’t enjoyed it. But how was that possible? Anyone who didn’t like The Shop Around the Corner was – Marianne didn’t know. It was inconceivable that anybody could walk away from that movie and not be completely charmed by it.
“You didn’t like it?” She tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice, but she failed completely.
“It’s not that,” Jack said. There was that hesitation again. “It’s just – the plot was kind of unbelievable, don’t you think? How could she go the whole movie and not realize Jimmy Stewart was her pen-pal?”
She had an answer for that. “Suspension of disbelief. You have to accept the premise at face value, otherwise you’ll never enjoy anything.” He did have a point, though. It had always struck her as stretching things a little that Margaret Sullivan – and Judy Garland, and even Meg Ryan – didn’t find out who their pen-pals were for nearly two hours. And she had to admit that it was unfair that in every case it was the woman who was in the dark, while Jimmy Stewart and Van Johnson and Tom Hanks all knew the truth.
If it was her in Margaret Sullivan’s place, she wouldn’t have been fooled. She’d have seen through Jimmy Stewart in ten minutes, and things would have taken a very different turn.