Reign

Just talk, that's all. It's been so long.'

'Maybe too long,' she said, still watching their hands together.

'Maybe.' He took his hand away. She almost grasped it, but restrained herself. 'Let's consider it an employer-employee interview then. Professional down the line. No touching, except a warm and dry handshake. Is it a deal?'

Finally she looked up at him. He was smiling gently, and she realized she could not say no. 'All right. It's a deal.' Then she smiled. 'Boss.'

Dennis laughed. 'I can pick you up at your home.'

She began to agree, then remembered Terri. 'No. Thank you, Dennis. I'd really rather drive myself.'

'You're sure?'

'I'm sure. Shall I meet you here or at the inn?'

'Well, since we're being professional, how about the inn? Say seven-thirty?'

'That's fine.' They did not kiss, did not touch when they parted. He called Sid, who took her back to Steinberg's office, where she received Donna Franklin's smiling congratulations, filled out the necessary employment forms, and was told to report for work at nine o'clock on Thursday morning.

As she sat behind the wheel of her car and pulled the door closed, she realized what a terrible mistake she had made, not only in accepting the job, but in coming to Kirkland in the first place. She should not have seen him, should never have seen him again, because, damn it all to hell, she still loved him, and could see in his face that he still loved her, and while one part of her brain reveled in that fact, another part agonized over it, because Dennis was married, wasn't he? He was a married man, with a wife who loved him and who he no doubt loved too. And now Ann had become part of the equation simply by reappearing, or at least she thought enough of herself to imagine she had.

But what if she was kidding herself? What if Dennis's reaction had been due merely to nostalgia for simpler and happier times?

Oh Jesus. Jesus, there was too much to think about, too many possibilities, too great an assortment of emotions on both their parts to come to any conclusion. She didn't know what he felt, what he thought. All she knew for sure was that she still loved him, and she knew that through her twenty-two years of marriage she always had. Through all the years she was loving Eddie – and she had loved Eddie – she was loving Dennis as well, and if that sounded impossible, it was nonetheless true. Who the hell knew what love was anyway?

Oh, goddammit, who the hell knew anything?

She gave into it then and cried. She cried for Eddie and for loving Dennis and for herself, and when she had finished she started the car and began to drive home, remembering the day she had first met Dennis Hamilton in the coffee shop of the Kirkland Holiday Inn. She had spilled a tuna salad sandwich on him.

~* ~

'Oh God… oh God, I am so sorry, there was butter there, and I stepped in it, and… oh God, all over your sweater…”

'It's okay…”

'No, wait, let me get that bread… oh yuck… Look, I'll just go back in the kitchen, get a towel, some cold water -'

'It's okay, really.' The young man smiled at her. 'There's just one problem,' he said, and pointed to a large blob of tuna salad in the vicinity of his stomach. 'Didn't I ask you to hold the mayo?'

She laughed, just a little, and as his smile grew broader and he began to laugh as well, she laughed harder, an embarrassed, half-crying laugh, shaking her head at her own clumsiness. 'Watch,' the young man said. 'Magic.' He tugged on the sweater at the neck, something her mother had always taught her not to do, pulled it up over his head, and removed it, turning it inside-out in the process. 'Voila! All gone.'

'I am sorry,' she said again. 'Please, let me have it cleaned.'

'Well, all right,' he said. 'On one condition, and that's that you return it to me over dinner.'

Yes was on her lips, but she bit it back, remembering who the boy was – an actor who was rehearsing for that new musical at the Venetian Theatre, one of those rare and frightening beasts her mother had warned her about, and even her father had viewed with minor alarm. But, on the other hand, he was so darn cute, and that smile was enough to light the main street of Kirkland. 'I… I don't know…”

'We don't have to eat tuna salad, you know. And we don't have to eat here either.'

'Well…”

'And I'll bring you home safe and sound, I promise. Untouched by human hands.'

Once again she gave an embarrassed laugh.

''You pause, madam,'' he said. ''Do you find me repulsive?''

She gave him a quizzical look. 'What?'

'It's from the show. Now you say, 'Not at all, sir. I shall be happy to accompany you.’”

'Oh, that's what I say, huh?'

'Well… I'd like you to.' He leaned toward her and grinned. 'And shall I tell you why?'

'Why?”

'Because I've been wanting to get a chance to meet you, and I can't do that if all we're saying is 'Would you like more coffee,' and 'Miss, may I have the check now.' In fact, I have a confession to make.'

'What?'

'I put that butter on the floor on purpose so you'd slip and spill something on me.”

“You didn't!'

'No, I didn't. But I would have if I'd thought of it.' Ann laughed again, but there was no embarrassment in it this time.

That evening over stuffed flounder at the Kirkland Inn, the young man, whose name, Ann learned, was Dennis Hamilton, told her that he was enjoying the meal more than any other he had had since rehearsals began. 'And you know why? I didn't think so, so I'll tell you. It's because you're the first normal person I've met since this whole thing started.'

'What do you mean, normal? Dull?'

'No, no, not at all. I mean beautifully, charmingly normal. Have you ever been involved with theatre? Professionally?'

'No.'

'Me neither. Not until this show, anyway. Oh, I did a lot of stuff in high school, and I busted my hump working in a summer theatre to get my Equity card, but all did on the stage was serve a drink in Act Two and say, 'Would you care for another, sir?' But anyway, everybody in this business is slightly crazy.'

'Present company excluded?' she asked.

'Of course. All the women are so self-centered you can hardly talk to them -that is, if there was anything besides performing that they could talk about – and the men are all gay. Well, most of them anyway. Couple of guys – Sid and Harry – they're straight.'

'Gay? You mean homosexual?' Ann was shocked, but hoped she didn't look it. She hoped in vain.

'That surprise you? It did me. Hey, you'd be surprised how many guys in theatre and movies are. I mean, the stories I've heard, some of the names, the guys who are famous for being such big…” He searched for a word. '… studs, pardon my French, well, they're absolute flaming faggots when nobody's looking.'

'God, that's amazing. Like who?'

'Aw, I don't want to say, I mean, some of it might be just talk. But whether they're straight or gay, the guys are just as into themselves as the girls are.”

“So what's this show all about?' Ann asked.

'It's a musical about this young emperor who falls in love with this girl who isn't a princess or anything, and he wants to marry her, but his nobles don't want him to, so they have her killed.'

'Ooo. That's a little extreme, isn't it?'

'Well, it's all done behind his back, but he finds out about it, and there's a big duel at the end with this imposter the nobles have tried to put in his place, and it turns out that the emperor decides never to get married and let his line die out. See, that's the revenge on the people who wouldn't let him marry the girl he loved.'

'Oh, that's kind of a different ending. How did you get in it?'

'There was an open audition, so I took my brand new Equity card and went and sang a song. Then they had