Families are messy - 6

“A little mystery is good for the soul, and safer for a single woman,” Marcia said, turning serious for a moment.

“I can see your point. I won’t pry any more about that.” He started walking again, slowly, wondering if she’d keep pace with him. She did and he smiled to himself.

“Question, Miss Mysterious,” he said, “Are you a waitress by desire, as a stop-gap between other jobs, or as a second job?”

“It’s the last more than anything else, though unfortunately it’s more of a first job because I’m an underemployed actress.”

“Lack of jobs or talent?” He watched her face, which was a very nice one he had decided, wondering if she’d get angry at his way of phrasing the question.

She didn’t. Instead she chuckled. “You’re nothing if not blunt. I consider myself a fairly good actress and I’ve got the reviews to back me up.”

“Would I have seen you in something?”

“Only if you’ve been in Omaha, or Grand Island. I’ve only recently returned here and haven’t yet convinced the theater powers-that-be in the city that they’re desperate for me to be in one of their shows.”

“You’re a Winterfield native?” Casey asked.

“Born and bred and escaped. But when it came right down to it I missed the slower pace here. Not that it’s a cow town by any stretch of the imagination but it’s not the...“ Marcia made quotation marks with her fingers, “big city.”

“No it’s not, thank goodness,” he replied with conviction.

Marcia laughed. “Not into lots of people who don’t even know your name?”

“I don’t care if they don’t know my name, but I like being able to have my own private space when I need it.”

She nodded in agreement. “I’ve got a small house that I inherited from my folks, well got from them when they moved down to Florida. I love being able to go home and just kick back and forget the worries of the day for a while.”

Casey stopped walking, causing her to do the same as she looked up at him. “I’m boring you, aren’t I? You’re ready to head home and I’m keeping you from doing that.”

“Not at all.” He pointed to a small bar that he knew was relatively quiet as bars went. “I just wondered if you’d like something to drink. And if you’re not into bars there’s a coffee shop around the corner.”

She surveyed him carefully while she seemed to consider his offer. “One beer.”

“Sounds good to me.” When they reached the front door he held it for her and then asked when they were inside, “Table or rough it and sit at the bar?”

“Oh the bar, definitely. You can see much more there.”

“Ahh, a student of human nature huh?” He led her over to two vacant stools at the end.

She grinned. “I’m an actress, of course I am.”

Once their beers were sitting in front of them there was that kind of pause that happens between two people who might actually be interested in each other but don’t know quite what to say next.

Marcia broke the silence first, saying, “Lamberti” When he cocked an eyebrow she explained. “My last name, you did ask.”

“Well darn, now I can’t keep calling you Miss Mysterious.”

“Sorry about that, though you can if you want to. It’s sort of cute.”

“Like you,” Casey said without thinking.

Marcia rolled her eyes. “I hope I’m a bit more than cute. That’s for kids and girls you pick up in... Oh well I guess you sort of did pick me up, or I picked you up.”

“We’ll call it a draw, since we both kept the conversation going,” he told her with a laugh. “You’re Italian? You don’t look it.”

“My father is; my mother’s pure Midwestern German stock, thus the blonde hair, which,” she grinned, “is natural.”

“Just as mine is naturally black,” he replied with a laugh.

There was another moment of silence where anyone had been reading their minds might have heard, ‘Prove it. Umm, not saying that out loud.’ from both of them. 

Then they both laughed self-consciously and Casey hurriedly changed the subject. “Are you going to try out for the next show coming up at the theater, or whatever they call it?”

“Audition, and yes I am. Friday night actually.”

“Would it bother you if I came and watched or isn’t that allowed?”

Marcia chewed her lip then nodded. “It’s allowed because they’ll probably think you’re there for the same thing. Just sit at the back of the theater once you’re in.”

“I can do that.” Casey glanced at his watch then slugged down the rest of his beer. “I hate to do this but I have a dog at home that is probably walking cross-legged by now.”

With a peal of laughter, Marcia told him, “Go rescue the poor thing. I should get home too and study the script.” She stood, leaving the rest of her beer un-drunk. “I’ll see you Friday then?”

“You can count on it,” he told her with a smile.