Dovetail(53)
She gave his shoulder a gentle push. “Just for the record, I talked to Doris, and she doesn’t want to date you either.”
He mimed a stab to the heart and followed it up by wiping away a nonexistent tear. “Poor me. Destined to die old and alone.”
“But not friendless,” she pointed out.
“Never friendless,” he agreed.
Joe good-naturedly accepted her terms, which simplified things greatly. She had the pleasure of spending time with him without worrying about the location of his hands or if things were moving too quickly. They were just friends. Marcia refused to acknowledge this friendship, or maybe she just didn’t understand it. Every time she saw Joe’s truck arrive, she’d announce, “Your boyfriend’s here.”
Kathleen’s standard response was, “He’s not my boyfriend,” which made Marcia smirk.
One time Marcia had answered by saying, “Anyone can see that Joe’s a fox. I mean, he’s not my type, but he’s really got the hots for you. I think you should just admit it and go with it.”
“There’s nothing to admit,” Kathleen said.
After that Marcia started singing the refrain from the Elvis song “Burning Love” every time Joe made a delivery.
If Joe noticed, he didn’t say anything.
The people in town, seeing them together so often, assumed they were dating as well. In conversations with others, Kathleen made a point of calling Joe her friend, not that it helped. Thinking about it made her sigh. Oh well, you couldn’t keep people from talking. Soon enough, the residents of Pullman would find something else to gossip about.
This evening, for the first time, they were going to a movie at the Victory Theater. After Kathleen locked up the shop, she set off down the sidewalk to the theater, where she found Joe waiting for her, his back against the brick exterior of the building, one knee bent with his foot flat against the wall. He had his trademark newsboy cap on along with the suspenders over a button-down shirt and the tan work pants he’d begun wearing instead of blue jeans. “Hey there,” she called out as she approached.
He doffed his cap. “Evening, ma’am.” He held up the tickets. “Took care of this ahead of time. Tickets for two to see Trading Places, the new smash film starring Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd.”
“How much do I owe you?” she asked, taking her purse off her shoulder.
“Forget it. I’ve got it covered.”
She grinned. “Then I’m buying dinner.”
“You are one suspicious person, Kathleen Dinsmore. Just because I paid for the tickets does not mean it’s a date.”
“Just making sure that there’s no misunderstanding.”
Joe handed the tickets to the man at the door, who ripped them in two and handed half back. The theater was a third full, but they found two seats on the left-hand side. Kathleen went in first, and Joe took the seat on the aisle.
Once they were situated, Joe glanced upward, his eyebrows lifting. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen an elegant chandelier in a movie theater. It’s enormous.”
“That’s a leftover from when this used to be the Victory Ballroom, a million years ago. Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said, his attention still focused on the ceiling. “What do you call that fancy disc on the ceiling, the big round thing that the chandelier is mounted on?”
“That,” Kathleen said, her head tilted upward, “is a decorative ceiling medallion.”
“Lots of places have them? Would you say they’re pretty common?”
“This particular one isn’t common at all; in fact, it’s one of a kind. See the pattern? Gilded. Done in gold leaf. The owner hired an artist from Chicago to create it just for the ballroom.”
Joe didn’t say anything for an uncomfortably long time, just peered upward, his forehead creased. His mouth twisted, as if he was puzzling through something difficult.
“Joe? Is something wrong?”
“No.” He shook his head with a bit of a shudder. “I was just thinking.” He turned to her and smiled. “It’s very impressive.”
The lights went down then, and Joe finally pulled his gaze away from the ceiling to look at the screen. Kathleen had been concerned that if Joe was going to break their friends-only rule, the movie theater might be the place. Sitting next to each other in the dark was the perfect setup for deliberate, casual touching—the press of one arm against another, the brush of fingertips, the bump of a knee. A whispered comment during a movie could be done in a flirtatious way, his lips brushing against her ear. She knew from experience that guys knew how to start something casual, then delve further while still making it look innocent enough. And if she allowed that to happen, it might lure her in, and she’d find herself responding, leaving the door open for more.
Kathleen knew she could weaken and find herself receptive to overtures of love. She wasn’t immune to romance, even if her marriage had been a disaster. It was safer, though, to leave things as they were. She wasn’t looking forward to having to rebuff any overtures from Joe. She only had the one friend, after all.
But she needn’t have worried. Joe didn’t do any of that. She might not have been there for all the attention he paid to her. He fidgeted, one knee jiggling, seemingly preoccupied during the previews and only relaxing a bit once the movie had started.