Page 92 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
When it was Cait’s turn at the ticket window, she purchased two for the Disney classic.
“Disney?” Joe yelped, shocked when Cait handed him his ticket.
“It seemed like a good compromise,” she answered.
For a moment it looked as if he was going to argue with her, then a slow grin spread across his face. “Disney,” he said again. “You’re right, it does sound like fun. Only I hope we’re not the only people there over the age of ten.”
They sat toward the back of the theater, sharing a large bucket of buttered popcorn. The theater was crowded and several kids seemed to be taking turns running up and down the aisles. Joe needn’t have worried; there were plenty of adults in attendance, but of course most of them were accompanying children.
The lights dimmed and Cait reached for a handful of popcorn, relaxing in her seat. “I love this movie.”
“How many times have you seen it?”
“Five or six. But it’s been a few years.”
“Me, too.” Joe relaxed beside her, crossing his long legs and leaning back.
The credits started to roll, but the noise level hadn’t decreased much. “Will the kids bother you?” Joe wanted to know.
“Heavens, no. I love kids.”
“You do?” The fact that he was so surprised seemed vaguely insulting and Cait frowned.
“We’ve already had this discussion,” she responded, licking the salt from her fingertips.
“We did? When?”
“The other day. You commented on how much I used to enjoy playing with my dolls and how you’d expected me to be married with a house full of children.” His words had troubled her then, because “a house full of children” was exactly what Cait would have liked, and she seemed a long way from realizing her dream.
“Ah, yes, I remember our conversation about that now.” He scooped up a large handful of popcorn. “You’d be a very good mother, you know.”
That Joe would say this was enough to bring an unexpected rush of tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, annoyed that she’d get weepy over something so silly.
The previews were over and the audience settled down as the movie started. Cait focused her attention on the screen, munching popcorn every now and then, reaching blindly for the bucket. Their hands collided more than once and almost before she was aware of it, their fingers were entwined. It was a peaceful sort of feeling, being linked to Joe in this way. There was arightnessabout it that she didn’t want to explore just yet. He hadn’t really changed; he was still lovable and funny and fun. For that matter, she hadn’t changed very much, either....
The movie was as good as Cait remembered, better, even—perhaps because Joe was there to share it with her. She half expected him to make the occasional wisecrack, but he seemed to respect the artistic value of the classic animation and, judging by his wholehearted laughter, he enjoyed the story.
When the show was over, he released Cait’s hand. Hurriedly she gathered her purse and coat. As they walked out of the noisy, crowded theater, it seemed only natural to hold hands again.
Joe opened the truck, lifted down the step stool and helped her inside. Dusk came early these days, and bright, cheery lightswere ablaze on every street. A vacant lot across the street was now filled with Christmas trees. A row of red lights was strung between two posts, sagging in the middle, and a portable CD player sent forth saccharine versions of better-known Christmas carols.
“Have you bought your tree yet?” Joe asked, nodding in the direction of the lot after he’d climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“No. I don’t usually put one up since I spend the holidays with Martin and his family.”
“Ah.”
“What about you? Or is that something else you save for Christmas Eve?” she joked. It warmed her a little to imagine Joe staying up past midnight to decorate a Christmas tree for his nieces and nephews.
“Finding time to do the shopping is bad enough,” he said, not really answering her question.
“Your construction projects keep you that busy?” She hadn’t given much thought to Joe’s business. She knew from remarks Paul had made that Joe was very successful. It wasn’t logical that she should feel pride in his accomplishments, but she did.
“Owning a business isn’t like being in a nine-to-five job. I’m on call twenty-four hours a day, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love what I do.”
“I’m happy for you, Joe. I really am.”
“Happy enough to decorate my Christmas tree with me?”
