Page 4 of A Reel Christmas in Romance
Esme had written himback within an hour of his message. Clearly, she was smitten with him.
Jack stood up from his computer, shaking his head. He’d just used the word “smitten.” Granted, it was just in his head, he hadn’t actually spoken it aloud, but still. This town was getting to him. Assimilating him. Sane people, people who lived in sane places, didn’t use words like “smitten.”
At least Esme’s apparent feelings for him would make his task easier. She’d surely be thrilled to help him get close to Marianne Carter, not to mention giving him plenty of information herself.
Greetings, Duck-Man,
I accept your offer. And, yes, to ensure that we are both on the same page, I consider this a formal, official date. Our first, in fact.
Believe it or not, I wasn’t always so forward. But, working with high school students, whose love lives are fraught with miscommunications both deliberate and unintentional, and which make the averageThree’s Companyrerun look like high art in comparison, I have learned that clear and direct communication of intentions and expectations is vital if there is to be any possibility of a successful relationship.
(how’s that for a run-on sentence? Mr. Patterson, my tenth grade English teacher, would weep in despair if he read what I just wrote!)
Let’s meet tomorrow (in the interest of clarity, I’m talking about Monday, December 10th) at 7 PM. You will find me at a table in Sweet Hearts Pastry and Treats on Pear Street. anxiously awaiting you. I will be wearing a red carnation somewhere on my person, or possibly in my hair, or at any rate it will be in plain sight in my immediate vicinity.
And to answer your question, I’m afraid I must dash your hopes. As you suspected (feared?), I do prefer my caffeinated beverages heavily adjectived (is that a word? I guess it is now. Sorry again, Mr. Patterson!). In the interest of satisfying your curiosity, I will wait for you to order, so you can judge for yourself whether you are willing to be seen in public with someone who orders overly complex coffee.
Until tomorrow,
Esme
Jack didn’t know anyone who wrote emails like that. It was almost as though she were transcribing a quirky voiceover narrator who described everything she saw and did with frequent asides and snarky commentary.
Come to think of it, that was probablyexactlyhow Esme wrote her emails. He wondered if she was like that in person, too, or if she was one of those people who was only eloquent in pen or at a keyboard, but painfully shy face to face.
Probably the former; most of the people he’d met so far in town were quite comfortable expressing themselves. Not rude, not by any means, but so filled with passion that they couldn’t help but say what they thought and felt. Living in a town called Romance, a place dedicated to passion, even the shyest residents probably absorbed that attitude through osmosis.
Maybe the whole town should have applied to be declared a state historical landmark, not just the theater.
