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eads my father’s dumb novels.”
“How do you know?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. “She mentioned it once or twice in
my phone interview.” She kept asking questions about
casting decisions for The Lighthouse. Like Dad has any
say in that. Or like I care. She didn’t realize my
cinematic tastes are a bit more sophisticated.
“I’d like to learn Italian,” Meredith says. “But they
don’t offer it here. I want to go to college in Rome next
year. Or maybe London. I could study it there, too.”
“Surely Rome is a better place to study Italian?” I
ask.
“Yeah, well.” She steals a glance at St. Clair. “I’ve
always liked London.”
Poor Mer. She’s got it bad.
“What do you want to do?” I ask him. “Where are
you going?”
St. Clair shrugs. It’s slow and full-bodied,
surprisingly French. The same shrug the waiter at the
restaurant last night gave me when I asked if they
served pizza. “Don’t know. It depends, though I’d like
to study history.” He leans forward, like he’s about to
share a naughty secret. “I’ve always wanted to be one
of those blokes they interview on BBC or PBS specials.
You know, with the crazy eyebrows and suede elbow
patches.”
Just like me! Sort of. “I want to be on the classic
movies channel and discuss Hitchcock and Capra with
Robert Osborne. He hosts most of their programs. I
mean I know he’s an old dude, but he’s so freaking
cool. He knows everything about film.”
“Really?” He sounds genuinely interested.
Anna and the French Kiss | 40