Don't Forget to Write: A Novel(58)

He smiled. “Dan to my friends.”

Oh no. Ada was eating this up with a spoon. “Well, Dan—if I may be so bold to presume we’re going to become friends—please, do come in.” She slipped a hand through his arm, leading him into the house.

“Ada!” I hissed.

“Where are your manners?” Ada asked, smirking at me. “You have a gentleman caller.”

“This isn’t the 1800s. No one says that anymore.”

“So rude,” Ada murmured. She took the flowers from Daniel and whacked me in the chest with them. “Go put these in some water while I get to know our guest.”

“Good. Get to know him. Maybe you can find him a match who isn’t me.”

“Ignore her, darling,” Ada crooned up at Daniel. “Come with me. We’ll go sit in the living room.”

I stood there for a long moment, seriously debating stealing Ada’s keys, hopping in the car, and never coming back. But having grown up in New York City, I didn’t know how to drive. And I wasn’t quite ready to abandon the burgeoning manuscript upstairs. So I took the flowers to the kitchen, where I put them on the counter.

“Let me just get a vase,” Frannie said, wiping her hands on her apron.

“No need,” I said. “I don’t want them.”

“Such pretty flowers,” she said. “I’ll put them in water.”

“Frannie.”

“Miss Ada said to. I heard that much. And I work for her, not you.”

“Do you know how to drive?” I asked.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

I heard laughter from the living room, and, lacking a clear escape route, I took a deep breath and then went to join them.

Daniel was on the sofa, Ada in the chair opposite him. Sally had apparently fallen in love and was on Daniel’s lap, kissing his hand. That traitor. “Sit,” Ada told me, still laughing. “You didn’t tell me how funny Dan was—or how handsome.”

I ignored her. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“I—uh . . .” He looked from me to Ada and back, then he took a deep breath. “I’m just going to lay it all on the line. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I stared at him as if he had just said he murdered people for fun.

“How sweet,” Ada said. “Marilyn, darling, isn’t that sweet?”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked her.

“Immensely.” She turned back to Daniel. “And you drove all this way to tell her that?”

He nodded. “I went to your house—I went a few times actually. Your mother finally told me where to find you.”

I exhaled forcefully, blowing the air out over my bottom lip. “Daniel—”

“Dan,” Ada corrected. “I believe once you crash through a piece of stained glass in an act of passion, you count as friends.”

Driving couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Dan,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry you drove this far, but my answer is the same as it was two months ago. No.”

He looked vaguely confused—but unlike Freddy, it was cute on him. As much as I hated to admit that. “I—oh—no—I’m not here to propose—again. That was my father and I—I don’t know why I went along with it.” He ducked his head, then looked back up at me. “Actually, I do. I like you. And I thought—” He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts. “My parents were a match. And I always liked you, even when we were kids. And I just figured it’d help our families, and we already knew each other better than most matchmade couples . . .” He turned to Ada. “No offense, ma’am.”

“None taken at all.”

I glared at her. Why was she suddenly being so nice?

“It was stupid. I know that. But I thought, if you were game, why not?” Dan asked.

“I wasn’t.”

Dan smiled ruefully and ran a hand through his hair. “I know that now.” He turned so he was actually facing me, and I inched slightly away. “I came here to ask if I could take you on a date. A proper one.”

“Of course you can,” Ada said. “Marilyn, go get dressed.”

“Ada!”

She held up her hands in a gesture of innocence. “What? I can’t speak for you, certainly, but I give my wholehearted permission.”

“Look, Dani—Dan. I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. I want to focus on myself. And my writing. And I don’t—”

“Your writing?” he asked. “What are you writing? I’d love to read it.”

I could have kicked myself.

“He’d love to read your writing, Marilyn,” Ada said. “How very modern and interesting compared to so many other young men.”

If looks could kill, even her meanness wouldn’t save her. She would have been six feet under and cold already. The actual last thing I needed was her bringing Freddy up and Daniel taking that information home to my parents. I could kiss college goodbye forever if that happened.

“That’s not the point,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m just not dating right now.”

“Nonsense,” Ada said. “Dan, if Marilyn won’t go out with you, you’ll stay for dinner tonight.”