“It wasn’t that bad,” Agnes insisted, looking at the camera like she was a professional personality, like Molly.
Gavin was more like Charlie. He tried, but it didn’t come naturally.
Come to think of it, that was pretty much Gavin’s life in a nutshell.
“I walked out of that place with a wallet lighter than when I walked in. All I had to show for it was a handful of torn up papers all marked up.” Charlie harrumphed.
Charlie had come to the interview in a checkered sweater vest with a matching tie and a pair of tan polyester pants that looked supremely scratchy. But what did Gavin know?
Agnes had gone with the matching version of his sweater.
He had a hunch she’d made them. Not that they looked homemade, but he wasn’t entirely certain where one would purchase sweaters with that much personality and a perfect
fit.
“You had a nice time with Agnes.” Molly slipped right
in with that little tidbit. Nudging Charlie along.
“We could’ve had a nice time here at home, watching her programs. Didn’t need to go out to spend money on pieces of paper I tore up anyway,” Charlie said. “Bunch of baloney for television if you ask me.”
“You wouldn’t mind watching my programs with me?” Agnes asked, apparently a little starstruck at the idea of a night in with Hulu.
“As long as I don’t have to play bingo while I do it, I’m happy to do most anything with you, darlin’.” Charlie slathered on the endearment like an old pro.
Well, call Gavin old-fashioned, but it turned out ol’ Charlie had some game left after all these years. As long as it didn’t involve bingo.
“For your next date, we were going to go to a knitting club,” Molly announced, as though it were a trip to Charlie’s Chocolate Factory and they’d found a golden ticket.
Gavin had not heard about the knitting idea. He’d never knitted anything in his life and didn’t particularly feel a pressing need to start now.
“No. We are not.” Charlie looked at Agnes like she hung the moon every night of his life. “We’ll sit in and watch her programs. I’ll make up a batch of chicken paprikash.”
Agnes laughed and smacked his arm. “You cook, too?
This just keeps getting better and better.”
“I couldn’t help but notice that perhaps there were some sparks between you both on this date night.” Molly waggled her eyebrows dramatically. “Would you like to tell us more about that?”
“There are lots of things that Charlie Davenport does,” Charlie said, the grouch back in his voice, “but one of them is not kissing and telling about it. If you get my meaning.”
“I get your meaning, Charlie,” Molly assured him.
“I think we all do,” Gavin added, ready to step into the role she had brought him on to play. If Molly could do it, so could he.
“I don’t mind kissing and telling.” Agnes wiggled her eyebrows up and down and…how did she get them to go a little left and right? That wasn’t possible, was it?
Charlie made a sound in the back of his throat that reminded Gavin of a clogged drain.
“We kissed and now I’m telling everyone about it,” Agnes said with a giggle. “And that’s all I’m going to say.”
“Chicken paprikash is your signature meal?” Molly asked, pivoting the conversation toward what Gavin was sure was a safer topic. A topic that wouldn’t cause more plumbing sounds to come from Charlie.
“It is.” Charlie pulled Agnes in tighter. “On that note, I think we’ll head off now.”
That was not part of the plan that they’d gone over before they started this whole interview process.
“You can’t just leave in the middle of the broadcast,” Molly said, with a light laugh so subtle it felt like it tickled.
