Page 20 of A Reel Christmas in Romance
His email had putthe Duck-Man firmly back in Marianne’s good graces.
My fair Duck-Man,
I think I can call you that again, having read your last message. I’m so impressed at your devotion to family. If I had a brother or sister (which I don’t, in case you were wondering), I’m not sure I’d be willing to fly 3,000 miles (or more, maybe? I know it’s 3,000 from here to the East Coast, and then you have to go south, too, so it’s probably 3,500 or even 4,000 miles) just to help him or her babysit.
I’m also not sure I’d be willing to risk the wrath of the Oregon Farmers Alliance to do it.
Does the Farmers Alliance have wrath? They probably do, so more credit to you for braving it.
Here’s the deal. I was annoyed when you missed our date, but I see now that you are a man (a Duck?) who takes his responsibilities very seriously, which I totally respect. So, first, you are forgiven. Second, email me when you’re ready to return to Romance, and I will personally drive out to pick you up at the airport, and we will have that coffee and pie.
No, scratch that. We will have a full dinner, which I will buy, and then a movie, which will also be my treat (OK, that’s not nearly as much of a gesture, since I work at the theater, but it should still count for something).
Fair enough?
You’re probably already at the airport, and if you’re like me, you hate typing out messages of any length on your phone. And then you’ll need some time to recover from the jet lag, and settle in with your brother, so I don’t expect a prompt reply. Just get back to me in a couple of days, so I know you got this, and that you accept my offer. OK?
Have a good flight, and give my regards to your brother and niece/nephew (you didn’t specify whether it’s a boy or a girl, and now that I’m reading these words over, I realize my regards won’t mean anything to them anyway, since they don’t know me).
Sincerely,
Esme
It had been followed almost immediately by a second message.
Hey, Duck-Man,
I can’t let you leave without making a confession. You deserve to know who it is that’ll be meeting you at the airport next week. You’ve obviously guessed by now that my name is not really Esme (I hope you have, anyway!), and I feel it’s only fair for me to tell you who I really am.
So allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marianne Carter, and (in case you don’t already know) I am the owner of the Esmerelda Theater.
I just thought you ought to know.
Safe travels!
Marianne
The first message had been exactly what he’d hoped to hear. She’d bought the Duck-Man’s story completely; phase one of his plan had worked to perfection. But her second email had upped the stakes. He had a couple of days before she’d expect an answer, but the next time the Duck-Man wrote her, what excuse would there be for not giving her a real name?
He’d just have to move up the timetable and begin phase two tonight, that’s all there was to it.
