He smiles. “Can I tell you a secret?”
I try to hide the excitement in my voice. “Sure.”
“I’ve watched the Christmas movies on TRC. I love them.”
“You do not.” I try to contain the smile that is overtaking my face.
“I do. When I’m home for the holidays, my mom and I stay up late and watch two or three in a row. Or we did. She liked the young people falling in love; I like the overly wreathed houses and the moms cooking things. And everyone stressing about how the lights are hung.” He takes a sip of his wine. “It’s a guilty pleasure.”
“What’s your favorite?” Pick one of mine! Pick one of mine!
He considers this for longer than I think the question warrants. “The one where the reporter gets snowed in and stays to help the innkeeper plan the annual holiday festival. I liked the two of them; I felt like it made sense they’d be together.”
“Becca and Daniel. Lake Placid. That’s mine.”
“See? You are romantic.”
“Only on paper. And when the stakes are low.”
CHAPTER 9
By the end of Friday afternoon rehearsals, Mrs. Sasaki is pretty much just bringing Leo cups of water and nodding at his ideas.
Weezie texts me as I am falling asleep: What’s going on out there? He says he’s staying another three weeks???
I think it’s restful for him here, I tell her.
Okay, then, I guess he’s your problem. I’m going to “rest” in his penthouse until I hear differently.
Good for you.
* * *
? ? ?
On Saturday, Leo wants to come to Bernadette’s soccer game. He can’t believe how many trees line the field and how comfortable my stadium chairs are. He thinks Bernadette is unusually aggressive for a girl her age and should have a private trainer before middle school. I roll my eyes a lot and try not to look at his feet. He’s wearing flip-flops for the first time, I guess on account of the warmer weather. His feet are like his hands, strikingly beautiful but strong. I think of those feet walking up and down my stairs in the middle of the night. I try to never think about his hands.
My play-related problems are fixing themselves as Leo parades himself from the soccer field to the baseball field, shelling out hellos and smiles. We are twenty days from opening night and no one has volunteered to start working on sets or costumes. The backup plan was to have an old burlap curtain hanging on the stage and to have the children wear their dirtiest clothes, orphan style. Suddenly, everyone wants to be involved. In fact, they’re swarming us.
Leo stands to his full height to meet Tanya Chung. He gazes deeply into her eyes until she agrees to have a full set of costumes by four P.M. a week from Wednesday, our first dress rehearsal. Evelyn Ness agrees to do all the sets, and I swear I saw her knees buckle a little.
“You’ll never quit acting,” I tell him.
* * *
? ? ?
“So what happens here on Saturday nights?” he asks us on the way home from Arthur’s extra-innings disastrous Little League game.
“I have a sleepover at Sasha’s,” says Bernadette.
“I have a birthday party,” says Arthur.
“Oh, looks like we’re out of luck. Can I take you out to dinner?”
Giggles from the back seat and now I might be blushing. I crack the window. “Sure.”
“Someplace decent?”
“We have a bistro in town that’s very good. Don’t be a snob.”
Leo rolls his eyes in the rearview mirror to more giggles.
* * *
? ? ?
I think I’m wearing too much makeup, but I have no one to ask. I’m not comfortable with black stuff on my eyes, and I feel mildly like an assault victim. But it seems rude not to make a little effort on a Saturday night, so I pick my navy blue silk dress, the one with no sleeves in case I sweat.
My hair is right today, thank God for small favors. “You’re a grown-up person,” I tell my reflection. “Don’t act like a teenager.”
“Damn,” he says as I walk into the kitchen. He’s in a crisp white shirt and a navy blazer. He’s shaved and smiling, and well, he looks like a movie star.
“Too much?” I really just need someone to be honest with me.
“Just right.”
As expected, we walk into the restaurant and everyone takes a collective gasp. People who know me even in passing give enthusiastic waves. People who know me well plot their frequent trips to the bathroom so they can stop and say hi.
The hostess takes us to a table in the back corner, facing out into the restaurant. Leo puts his hand on her forearm and she almost faints. “I don’t want to be a pain, but would it be possible to seat us at that table over there?” He motions to a table nestled in front of a banquette.