Lair of Dreams

“Well—” Evie started.

“It was a moonlit night,” Sam interrupted. “A full moon, as I recall. Just the prettiest September moon you ever saw. I’d lost my dog—”

“Sparky.”

“Right. I was calling, ‘Here, boy, here, Sparky!’”

“It was the most heartbreaking sound you ever heard,” Evie said. “I wanted to cry just hearing it. I still want to cry when I hear Sam’s voice.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Evie’s jibe. She smiled back. The smile was a challenge.

“Go on, darling,” she said, batting her lashes. “Tell them the rest.”

“Riiiight,” Sam said, suppressing a smirk. “Well now. That was some night. Yes, sir, some night. You see, the glamour girl standing before you was not the dame I first laid eyes on in Penn Station. In fact, at first I thought she was the charwoman. Don’t you remember how frightful you looked that night, Honey Pie?” Sam patted Evie’s hand. Her strained smile pleased him. “She was sooty and grimy. Had on her mother’s dress and those thick woolen stockings that grandmas and war orphans wear. And one of her teeth was missing. Ghastly. But I was smitten.”

“Oh, Daddy, you might need a visit to the dentist soon yourself.” Evie laughed and tightened her grip on Sam’s hand. She hoped it hurt. “Yes. It had been a long journey from Ohio. Not that Sam minded what I looked like. He was just so surprised to be talking to a real girl. Girls don’t usually talk to you, do they, dear? Poor baby just never had a bit of luck with the female species. Why, it was almost as if dames were repulsed by you, weren’t they, darling? Didn’t you tell me they’d shrink from your touch?”

“But you could see the good deep in my heart, couldn’t you, Pork Chop?”

“Yes. I had to look with a magnifying glass, but there it was.”

“What does this have to do with a missing dog?” someone shouted.

“Well, despite being covered in filth and smelling like a Bowery ballroom, Pork Chop here offered to read Sparky’s leash. Naturally, I assumed she was an escaped lunatic. You can understand, with her looking and smelling the way she did and claiming to have special powers. I figured any minute she’d introduce herself as Marie Antoinette and I’d have to call a cop.”

“Hahaha—oh, you, you, you…” Evie pinched Sam’s cheek. Hard. “Dear little tiny man. You’re just five feet, three inches of pure joy. My own lucky leprechaun.”

Sam glowered. “I’m five-foot-ten.”

“Are you?” Evie said in astonishment. “Well, now, let’s see. I’m five-foot-two.…” She swooped a hand across her head to Sam’s neck, putting Sam’s claim to the test. The crowd roared.

“Five-foot-nine.” Sam’s smile was strained.

“Love these two. Put them on the radio together. They’d be funnier than Sam ’n’ Henry,” the reporter said.

“Now, now, only one of us is on the radio. Isn’t that right, darling?” Evie said. She cut her eyes at Sam in warning.

“True,” Sam said. “Only one of us has enough hot air for two nights a week.”

The crowd laughed anew, delighted. Off to the side, Mr. Phillips stood with his arms folded, looking as pleased as if he’d invested in a Thoroughbred expected to win its race. The press took it all down, greasing the wheels of tomorrow’s star machine.

“When’s the wedding?” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Yeah, when is the big day?” Woodhouse asked, and Evie could swear by his tone that he was on to them. “I wanna make sure I have time to get my suit pressed.”

“Um… June?” Evie hedged.

“You two lovebirds think you can wait that long?”

“Oh, I think I could wait forever,” Evie sniped. “If it meant waiting for dear Sam.”

“Mr. Phillips—you gonna broadcast that wedding over the radio?”

“You bet I will!” Mr. Phillips barked.

“Sam! Evie! How’s about a picture for tomorrow’s papers, huh?”

“Of course!” Evie moved slightly in front of Sam, making sure they could capture the full glory of her new dress.

The photographer waved her back. “Evie, honey, could you step back beside Sam? We want you two crazy kids together.”

Sam waggled his eyebrows at her, that annoying smirk firmly in place. “Yes, future Mrs. Lloyd. I’m lonely without you beside me.”