Page 14

They sat in awkward silence for a long moment after the waiter scurried away to the kitchen.

“I won’t go,” she said to break the tension. “I’ll tell Jack no.”

“Thank heavens. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” He took her hand and squeezed it, then seemed to think better of it and let it go. “If you’re looking for thrills, we could make a trip to Coney Island. Would you like that?”

She hadn’t been to Coney Island in years. The last time she went, she was a teenager. Ernie wanted to go with Jack for his sixteenth birthday. Pop said yes, on the condition they take her, thinking she would exert a calming influence on them and keep them from doing anything irresponsible. But she was a gawky fourteen-year-old, completely in awe of her big brother and his best friend. She let them drag her all over the amusement park, riding every rollercoaster and eating junk until they all had stomachaches. It was the time of her life, even if she was an awkward third wheel.

“I would like that. When should we go?”

“Maybe next month? I think most of the park is still shut down for the winter.”

“Perfect.”

Their food arrived, and they chatted about nothing for the rest of the meal—the weather, the soup kitchen, work… She wanted to smooth over the awkwardness of their earlier conversation, and they fell into a comfortable rhythm. It wasn’t progress, but at least he seemed to have calmed down after being so ruffled.

She’d have to think with Jack about new tactics. Introducing the threat of competition seemed to have backfired. The new closeness she had conjured through longing looks and subtle touches had disintegrated completely. Even after a calm meal and bland conversation, Doug still seemed on edge.

As they walked to the cinema, her hand on the crook of his arm, his muscles were tensed. Each time she tried to lean closer, he inched away. Somehow, she had to fix this.

They stepped into the light of a thousand bright bulbs blinking at them from the dazzling marquis. Doug purchased two fifteen-cent tickets from the attendant in the crisp red-and-white uniform inside the gilded ticket booth.

She squeezed Doug’s arm as they stepped into the movie palace, anticipation getting the better of her. The moving pictures were almost as good as Coney Island, offering thrills, chills, and excitement that took her away from the mundane concerns of the everyday. At last, he relented, smiling and patting her hand as they stepped into the red-carpeted lobby and passed beneath an enormous chandelier before entering the palatial theater.

As they took their seats in red velvet chairs, she felt like a queen. Surely, Versailles itself could not be more opulent than this ornate hall, its high ceilings decorated with frescoes and filigree.

“I love it here.”

Doug smiled. “I know you do. Why do you think I bring you here so often?”

The lights dimmed. She threaded her fingers through his and let the picture carry her away.

With Chaplin, she expected comedy and slapstick, but The Kid was surprisingly poignant and moving. She cried as much as she laughed at the Tramp’s antics on screen, trying to save the kid from danger.

Constance blinked away tears as the lights came up, and Doug squeezed her hand. He looked deep into her eyes, making her heart beat faster.

“Did you like it?” He tilted his head to the side.

He really did have the most endearing dimple.

“I loved it,” she said, leaning in.

For a long moment, they sat together, gazing at each other as the rest of the audience shuffled toward the exit. Whenever he looked at her like that, she got butterflies in her stomach. If only he would do more than look.

As Doug walked her home, she clung to his arm, and he seemed to welcome it. They passed between pools of light from streetlamps, interspersed with stretches of darkness. The smell of burning wood from fireplaces permeated the air on this chilly spring night. Warm light glowed from the front windows of a few townhouses along her block, providing tantalizing glimpses of cozy domesticity.

At last, they stopped in front of her house.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Constance?”

She could just make out the earnest look on his face in the dim light.

“Yes, I did. Did you?”

“I always enjoy myself with you.” Taking her hand, he pulled her closer.

Was he going to kiss her? She looked up into his eyes.

His gaze strayed to Jack’s house. “I’m glad you’re not going flying.” His expression hardened. “I need to have a talk with Jack.”