“I gave up a whole night of watching repeats ofWheel of Fortunewith my mom for this,” she teased, but she was aware her teasing was getting edgy.
She imagined Eli pulling out a chair for Bethany. Maybe putting his hand on the middle of her back in a gentlemanly way. Smiling in that way he did when he was really listening, so that you knew he actually cared what you were saying.
“You could watch repeats ofBlood Brothersinstead. I get a nice little check every time you do.”
“I certainly could, except it’s on local television stations earlier in the day so the retired ladies at Heavenly Shores can watch it.”
He gave a startled laugh. “Ouch.”
She sighed, ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry, Franco. That was ungracious. I might be a little nervous and it just comes out that way. I’ll try to be nicer.”
This was true, but Franco didn’t have much to do with her nerves, or that hollowed out feeling in her gut. Like her stomach had taken an elevator down two floors below the earth’s surface.
“I like surprises, Glory Hallelujah Greenleaf. So don’t apologize. Bring it on.”
“So what’syourcriteria for a date, Franco? Something pretty to look at across a table while you enjoy a good meal?”
“Of course. Isn’t that everybody’s?”
She gave a short laugh. “But what do you usually like to talk about on dates?”
“Well, myself, mostly,” he said, with self-deprecating irony.
She smiled. “But don’t you get bored staring at pretty things who just listen to you talk about yourself?” She was genuinely curious. “Couldn’t you just get a mirror, like a parakeet?”
Franco’s eyes widened, startled. He looked undecided as to whether to laugh or scowl at this.
His expression finally settled into something like reluctant amusement. Maybe even admiration.
“I’ll admit it’s lost some of its shine, finally. And yet it was once so reliably pleasant.”
“Hard to know what to do next, isn’t it, when the things that used to work for you don’t work anymore.”
“Yep,” he said. “Usually I get over those kinds of humps by buying another Porsche,” he said blithely. “Hey, did you know I went to Harvard?”
She furrowed her brow. “No. I’m also not quite sure what to do with this information.”
He smiled at that, too. As if she kept presenting him with little surprises. “I’m bragging, I guess. Because I want you to think I’m smart, because I think you probably are.”
“Soooo... if I’m understanding this correctly, your implication is that college is where you go to get smart? Or... wait! Is college where they hand out talent? Kinda like the Tin Man getting a heart from the Wizard?”
He leaned back in his chair and stared at her. “Damn, woman. You arehardon me. Okay, when you put it that way, no. I guess not.”
“If you want me to think you’re smart, Franco, just say smart, insightful things,” she said relentlessly. “Your daddy pull some strings to get you into Harvard?”
He shook his head. “Man, you do have my number. I had to get passing grades, though. And I had to work for the roles I got. I’m not acompleteslacker.”
“Ohhh, passing grades,” she teased. “Be still my heart.”
He grinned. “What didyourreport cards look like?”
“Well, I’ve never gone to college. But my last report card was ‘A,’ ‘B,’ ‘A−,’ ‘A,’ ‘D,’ ‘C.’ I wrote a song using just those chords. D minor, of course, because the D was a bummer. That was for P.E. I hated those polyester shorts we had to wear because they itched and made me sweat, and wearing a uniform always makes me kind of uneasy. I kept getting docked points for ‘forgetting’...” She put that in air quotes. ”... to bring them.”
Franco smiled all the way through this. “You’re not one of those people who think it’s more virtuous to struggle for success, are you? That you have to do penance in order to deserve it?”
“No,” she said vehemently. “There’s no virtue in struggle, believe me. I think there’s virtue in working toward a goal, sure. You just have to play the hand you’re dealt the best you can.”
“Completely agree. It’s not like my picnic has been completely ant-free, you know. I never did win an Emmy.”