I ran a hand through my dark hair. “Couldn’t tell ya. It’s been years.”
“It has,” he agreed, his eyes seeming to smile along with his mouth. Deep-set wrinkles formed from years of laughter crinkled up and down his face.
“I’m sure I’ll find out her last name, Dad. I’m not worried about it,” I told him firmly.
“Aren’t you, though?” He took me off guard with those words, knowing me almost better than I know myself.
I wouldn’t admit it (and I didn’t have to – Dad could tell), but it did worry me. Maybe “worry” wasn’t the right word. It intrigued me. It wasn’t like I could just go Google “Anne” and find out the missing information. Billions of people had that name. But weirder, and more troublesome to my subconscious, was the fact that although it wasn’t really that huge of a faux pas to go on a first date with someone whose last name you didn’t know (especially in these modern days of social media and cyber friends) – something about Anne had seemed mysterious. Off.
“I just met her. I’ll find out. It’s not a big deal,” I repeated, somewhat heatedly. I almost never spoke to my father this way.
“Do you think she’s prepared to deal with a Hardick event? Does she even have a clue about what she’s stepping into?” Dad pushed further, unfazed by my tone.
I ran over my already foggy memory of how, exactly, I had invited Anne to the party. I’d left a lot out. She was probably envisioning a family barbecue, not a glamorous city gathering. I hadn’t even told her that she’d want to dress up. She absolutely did not know what she would be stepping into.
“It’ll be fine, Dad. She’ll be fine.”
“Of course, it will, Penn. But you might want to give her a heads up of some sort. Think of how uncomfortable you are at all of the parties and benefits that we attend – and you know exactly what to expect.” It was a decent point. My father was wise if he was anything. I normally found it comforting – a calm voice of reason that I could always count on to anchor the Hardick household.
But in this moment, I found it annoying. I knew I was frustrated with myself, more than anything, for having conveyed so little to the pretty girl at Kate’s Hardware (and gleaned even less). I would call her tomorrow – at the store – and at least paint a slightly clearer picture for her.
And why would she give you the store number? She must have a cell phone. Everybody has a cell phone. Avonlea has a cell phone, and she’s only six. Why would Anne only let you contact her at the store?
But there were still incredibly private people in the world, internet or not. Pierce and Payden were perfect examples. Handing out your number to a guy you just met may have seemed like a bad idea to a young girl like Anne. She was being smart.
What else is she being, Penn? Why do you get that knot in your gut? Why are the hairs on your arms standing up? Why did she freeze when you asked her for her name?
And she certainly had frozen. Not just hesitated – froze.
Just like the horses do... that was what it reminded you of. That was a fear freeze, and you know it.
“Well, I look forward to meeting this Anne. She must be remarkable to have caught an eye like yours,” Dad said finally, interrupting my thoughts, but still smiling pleasantly.
“An eye like mine, Dad?” I was prepared for another soliloquy.
“An eye that has seen many beautiful things, yet has never been impressed by anything,” he responded, turning his attention to his computer. “Now go away. I have words to type.” He gave me a smile, and then entered some different universe of which I was not a part.
I left dutifully, promising myself that the next conversation I had with my father concerning Anne would go differently. I was going to fill in some blanks – for myself and my family – and the strange uneasiness in the back of my mind was going to fade away altogether.
“Kate’s Hardware,” answered the instantly recognizable sweet voice on the other end. I was smiling like an idiot, holding my cell in one hand and giving an apple to my personal favorite horse on Hardick Ranch – Dennis. Dennis was making a rather quick snack of it, and a few apple chunks flew haphazardly in my direction.
“Anne? Hey, this is Penn,” I greeted – anxious in a way I was utterly unused to.
“Hey.” It was a happy “hey”, and I immediately thought of the dimple on her right cheek that deepened extraordinarily when she smiled.
“So, you still plannin’ on tomorrow night? I know I told you the party was at 8, but I figured I would swing by your place around 7 so we could get there a little early. Denver’s not too far but still... It’d be nice to avoid some of the crowd,” I had no idea how to ease her into the indulgences of my reality – I only knew it would be wrong to not give her some type of intel to help her prepare.
“The crowd? In Denver?” Anne seemed to choke out. She was clearly alarmed, and I knew I was screwing this conversation up already.
“You know, just – the people. My dad’s friends. It’s going to be a big gathering,” I stammered out.
“Okay...”
“I should have mentioned it’s, um – it's a little dressy. Like, a black-tie event. You can wear whatever you want, though. Anything is fine,” I continued, sounding more and more idiotic with each word.
“Black-tie...” Anne repeated the words, and I could hear the touch of horror in her voice then.
“Yeah. It’s dumb, I know. But it’s um, kind of a big celebration for my dad, and um... You know, sometimes my family gets fancy for that kind of thing. It’s ridiculous. But we’ll have fun, I promise.”
Silence.
“Anne, where should I pick you up at? You live in Corydon? Or nearby, I’m assuming?” The faster we could move on from discussing the Hardick family’s celebratory habits, the better.
More silence. I knew she hadn’t hung up – I could hear her light breath coming and going while she wrestled with...
What exactly is she wrestling with?
“Maybe I’ll just meet you there. I might have to work late on Saturday... Inventory and... stuff. You can just give me the address, and I’ll be there, okay? Eight o’clock,” Anne offered in what seemed to be a falsely confident manner.
“Oh, you don’t wanna drive into the city by yourself – the traffic can be insane and –”
“I’ll be fine, Penn. Just need the address, is all,” Anne persisted, still pleasant – but strained. I gave it to her, hearing the pen click before she jotted it down and then again when she was finished.
This wasn’t going the way it was supposed to. I’d scared her, somehow, while barely skimming the details as of yet. And her last name? There was no way in hell I was going to ask for that right now. Her walls were already up. She wouldn’t tell me, and worse, I was almost certain she wouldn’t go at all if I pressed for such information.
“We’ll have fun, Anne,” I said, repeating myself and feeling like I’d lost my mind completely. I never had trouble talking to girls – or anyone. Now I could hardly put a sentence together.
“Yeah, yeah of course,” she agreed hastily. I could have sworn that she was crying.