“She’s got a point, Sam. He won’t make a move unless he thinks you’re interested.”
“Yes, Charlotte.” I knew I could count on Ashley catching the allusion. It was Charlotte Lucas’s belief that a woman had better show more affection than she feels.
Ashley smiled. “He’s definitely into you, Sam. Just look at those eyes.”
“They’re brown.” Yes, Mr. Knightley, I notice the color of everyone’s eyes now. Ever since Dan, that’s a big deal with me. It’s my litmus test to prove I’m in the moment.
Ashley rolled hers. “Not the color, dimwit. The look. It’s like Colonel Brandon watching Marianne Dashwood.”
Aha, so we weren’t inP&P, we were inSense and Sensibility, and I apparently had discovered a Colonel Brandon. My eyes widened at the thought.
Ashley grinned. “I find it sometimes best to speak your language.”
“I will never doubt you again,” I said and hugged her.
Then they both started dishing out the advice: “Toss your hair, lick your bottom lip, tilt your head, smile, smile smaller, laugh softly, make him lean in . . .” Ninety seconds of pure torture before I replaced my hands on the banister and the girls took the stairs down to the apartment below.
But it worked! Josh asked for my number. I thought he’d call the next day, and I got surly when he didn’t, but Ashley and Debbie said that was normal. I like normal. So I waited. And a few days later, he called several times—right after the Great Beat-down. I never picked up.
I thought he’d given up, but yesterday he called again—for a date last night. A whole menagerie of butterflies took residence in my stomach. I only had an hour to get ready.
I jumped in the shower, forming a plan, and accidentally shaved across hundreds of goose bumps on my legs. I know, that’s more information than you need, but OUCH! Then I panicked. I called Ashley for advice, and within minutes she and Debbie were at my door. The room got so giddy you’d think no one had been on a date ever. The two of them dived into my closet.
“She should wear black with the jeans. It’s casual and sexy.” Ashley held the blouse to her face.
“Of course it looks good against you, Ash. You’re blond. Look at all her gorgeous dark hair. She’ll be better in this.” Debbie held up the cream sweater.
“Sure, at a study session. It’s a date, Deb. She needs to make a statement.”
“Hello? I’m in the room. I vote cream and brown. I like study sessions.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Please, Sam, put a little Marianne in your Elinor.” I smiled. It was a lovely idea.
How would it feel to get carried away on emotion like Marianne? To be so recklessly entranced? So passionately in love? I never thought Marianne’s devotion to Willoughby was prudent, and it wasn’t, but I bet it was fun. And later, I’m sure all that passion enveloped Colonel Brandon.
In the end we decided on jeans, brown high-heeled boots, the cream sweater, and a cream-and-brown patterned scarf around my neck. We had just finished adding the scarf when Josh knocked on the door. Ashley and Debbie ducked into my bedroom, which made for a weird first moment. Then I almost forgot them as Josh walked me down my apartment steps. He looked so good in a black sweater and jeans.
“You look great tonight, Sam. Thanks for saying yes on such short notice. A meeting fell through and I thought I’d take a chance.”
“I’m glad you called. Where are we going?”
“To my favorite Indian restaurant on Devon. Do you like Indian food?”
“I’m not very familiar with it.”
“You’ll love it. If you want, I’ll order for us.”
Is that how it always is? It felt lovely to have someone take such good care of me. Brandon took care of Marianne like that, I’m sure. Josh opened the car door and practically settled me into the passenger seat. We chatted while I floated along in my plush, beige leather seat with built-in warmer.
At the restaurant, I was out of my league again. Where is a burger joint when you need one? I couldn’t understand a word on the menu and finally put it down. Josh looked pleased when I asked him to order. He did a good job: chicken tikka masala, tandoori prawns, some vegetable samosas, and naan.
I looked them all up so I could spell them for you. See what care I take with your letters?
It was delicious: hot and spicy, deep and earthy. Dinner, time travel, and sunbathing rolled into one culinary experience. While we ate, Josh asked a lot of questions, some twice. I felt reluctant to answer. One—concentrating on my inner Marianne and feeling the moment took energy. Two—I hate talking about myself. So I opted for a few well-timed deflections. Most of the evening went like this:
Josh: “Where did you grow up?”
Sam: “Right here in Chicago, but I’ve never been here. Could you pass the chicken dish? It’s wonderful . . . Thanks. Are you pleased you stayed here after business school?”
