“Just answer the question, Mr. Charming Pants. Jeez.” I laughed.
“Mr. Charming Pants? Nice. Alright, let’s see, what was the third way in which you surprised me?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm, let me think. Ah yes, I remember. I remember very well.”
“Okay,” I prompted. “So tell me.”
“No. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“What? Why not?”
“Well, I didn’t actually forget to list it the other night, I just decided to keep it to myself.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s private.”
“It’s about me!”
“Too right,” he said, laughing, “but it’s my secret and I shall discharge my secrets… as I see fit.”
“Discharge? That sounded suspiciously Shakespearey there, buddy. You were just about to quote something, weren’t you?”
“I was, but I thought better of it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you asked me to stop being sexy and you have on previous occasions implied that the quoting Shakespeare thing could be construed as sexy. I’d hate to disappoint you.”
“Oh my God. I’m rolling my eyes right now. I’m rolling them so hard. I want you to know that.”
“Duly noted,” he said and I heard laughter in his voice again. “How’s the drive?”
“Ugh, just started. I’ve got a few long, boring hours ahead of me.”
“Well, shall I keep you entertained?”
* * *
The long drive to Cape Annabel was considerably more enjoyable with the Professor to talk to.
“You’re an excellent car buddy.”
“Well, thank you. I’m aiming for the perfect balance of entertaining you, without risk of dangerous distraction.”
“You’ve done great.” I laughed. “So what are your plans this week?”
“I’m going to ply my body with large quantities of lo mein as supplied by a most excellent Chinese restaurant nearby, and then I’m going to finally catch up on some television programs that I’m obscenely behind on.”
“Yeah? Which ones?”
“First up is Downton Abbey. I think I’m about two decades behind everyone else.”
“Oh, I love that show. Which season are you on?”
“The third.”
“Oh,” my voice fell flat. Shit, he’s in for a bad week.
“What? Why the ‘Oh’?”
“Really? You’ve got no idea? You’ve managed to remain spoiler-free for that show all this time?”
“Yes, I have. And I’ll thank you not to ruin it for me now.”
“Alright, I’m just astonished. You’ve got a serious talent for avoidance, sir.”
“Mmm, so I’ve been told.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” he said, then changed the subject. “What are your Thanksgiving plans? Large family gathering?” he asked just as the call waiting on my phone buzzed.
“Oh, that’s my mom, can you hang on?”
“Absolutely”
I put the Professor on hold, switched over to my mother, and then switched back a minute later.
“I’m back,” I said. “My loving mother is standing me up for our pizza date tonight.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, but I forgive her. Her boyfriend snagged reservations to Pinelli’s, an incredible restaurant in the city—the waiting list is like two years long—so I don’t blame them one bit for taking it. Sounds like they are going to stay the night, too. So it’s just me and a bottle of wine and a pizza tonight.”
“Pizza and wine? That’s one of my favorite meals. Want company?”
“Company?” I asked as I turned down the long gravel driveway that led to my mom’s house, high on the cliffs overlooking Cape Annabel harbor. “How does that work with you three hours away?”
“Modern technology, darling. I assume you have a camera on your phone or laptop?”
2
“So let’s see…We’ve done the sitting room, dining and living room, and the library, that leaves the kitchen,” I said as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, my mobile phone held aloft as I took the Professor on a remote tour of my mother’s house.
“I’m completely obsessed with that library,” he said. “You have to give your mother my compliments. I could get lost in there for hours.”
“I’ll tell her you said so. She’ll laugh, because that’s exactly what my sister and I used to do as kids. We’d curl up on the window seat in there during a storm with mugs of hot chocolate and our favorite classics.”
“You have a sister? Does she also have a name plucked from the pages of a gothic novel?”
“She does.” I nodded, grinning at him. “Charlotte, and before you ask, yes, she was named after the Bronte sister. And she’s insufferably proud of it.”
“I see, so those two little girls in the window seat during a storm, one was reading Bronte and the other Austen.”