Page 23 of A Reel Christmas in Romance
She finally heard fromthe Duck-Man Thursday night.
Marianne,
I’m glad I can finally call you by your name. Thank you for telling me.
I arrived in Key West without much trouble, unless you count five hours in coach next to a screaming toddler. I was greeted by another screaming toddler when I arrived at my brother’s house.
It’s a girl, by the way. Patricia, to be exact. And I did give her, and my brother, your regards, just so you know.
I also gave your regards to my sister-in-law, who came home this morning, two weeks ahead of schedule. Which means that, although I’m obviously welcome at my brother’s house, I’m not actually needed.
Therefore, I changed my return flight, and I’ll be coming back to Romance tomorrow night. If it doesn’t upset your plans too much, I would love to take you up on your generous offer to meet me at the airport. My flight is on American Airlines (I don’t have the flight number in front of me, but it will be coming from Atlanta) and it’s scheduled to arrive at 7:35 PM at Portland International Airport.
I would tell you my name, but somehow I feel like I should keep the mystery going for one more day. I’ll let you think about it, and I can’t wait to hear your guesses as to what you think it is.
If you can meet me, I will be at the baggage claim area, and I’ll be wearing a red carnation somewhere on my person. That seems only fair.
Until tomorrow,
Your Duck-Man
He had some nerve not telling her his name, after she’d given him hers. But at least he’d acknowledged it, and it was sort of romantic. Or at least, it would be if she didn’t know what she knew about him.
But did she really know it? Could Jack have made it all up?
No, that was impossible. He didn’t even know about the Duck-Man in the first place. She’d never said a word about him. So why would he make up a story about him being a hygienically-challenged hippie? And how could he have known all the details of the Duck-Man’s trip to Florida, let alone the name of his brother?
No, Jack had seen what he had seen. But maybe the Duck-Man wasn’t really a hippie at all. Maybe he just hadn’t had a chance to do laundry. If he was staying in a motel, that was entirely possible. And as for the muttering to himself, didn’t everybody mutter at their computer from time to time? She had been known to do it herself.
It could all be some big, ridiculous misunderstanding. Right?
One way or the other, she’d know tomorrow night.
