…..to a Verdi Festival . . . . A Lovely Little Affair TAGlet

by rankamateur

Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, LTD.

A Lovely Little Affair written by Kathleen A. Shelley

Another version of the night of the Verdi Festival

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"Sorry, I'm busy!" Amanda said firmly, turning away from her superior.

"Oh, Gee, that's—that's too bad," Lee pulled two tickets from his inside pocket. "These were for tonight."

Amanda turned back toward him, obviously ready to make some feisty comment, when she saw what Lee had in his hand. "Are those real?"

"About eight?"

"Love to."

"See how easy that was?" Lee grinned.

Amanda laughed. "Okay, okay, so professional, trained agents are more devious and always carry tickets to popular events in their pockets. Are they really real?" she asked again.

"Yes, they're really real. Check 'em out, if you don't believe me." He held the objects out for her closer inspection.

"No, that's all right. "I believe you. How did you get them? I read that the Verdi Festival was sold out weeks ago."

"Hey, we have our ways, remember?"

Amanda grimaced. "Oh yeah."

"Actually, Francine had to get some tickets to the production of Traviata for one of our slightly less than helpful friends out at Dulles. The guy works in Surveillance. Anyway, as long as she was at it, she got some tickets to the Festival for her and her new boy friend. But he had to work, so she gave the tickets to me."

"I'm surprised she didn't want you to take her--or she could take you--whichever."

"I don't think she's much of a Verdi fan. How about you? Do like his work?"

"Umm, I like the pieces I've heard. You know--like that March from Aida and umm, that, I guess it's some kind of drinking song, from La Traviata. I'm sure I've heard other things but I can't recall them right off hand."

"But--you would like to go with me tonight--right?" He seemed hesitant, almost shy. "Didn't you tell me that you were workin' on a new dress for the next time we had to go to one of those diplomatic things?"

"Yeah. I do have the dress--all finished. And sure, if you--I'd love to go. Eight o'clock you said?"

They both got up and started for the door.

"The performance starts at eight-thirty. I'd better pick you up at about seven-thirty. Or, if you'd rather, I could meet you in the IFF parking lot at quarter of eight. That should give us enough time to get to the Kennedy, get parked and get to our seats."

"Okay. I guess meeting you here would be best. Save a lot of questions from my mother. She's gonna ask enough about why I'm wearing a brand new gown to an IFF Documentary." Amanda furrowed her brow, obviously running through a few scenarios for her mother's interrogation. "Seven forty-five would be great. I better get goin'. I'll see you then. And, Lee . . . "

"Yes?"

"Thanks for inviting me."

"My pleasure," he smiled, reached out and took her hand. "See you later."

Amanda gently reclaimed her hand and started to leave.

"Amanda . . . ."

"What?"

"I know you like to tell your mother as much of the truth as you can. Instead of saying you're going to an IFF showing--how 'bout you tell her that--umm--IFF bought tickets to this Verdi thing and your boss was going to take a client, but the guy backed out at the last minute, so he, your boss, asked if you'd like to go. So the tickets wouldn't go to waste. And you jumped at the chance." He looked quite pleased with his cover story.

"Sounds logical and believable," Amanda nodded. "I'll tell her exactly that." With a grin and a little wave, she was out the door.

Lee exhaled loudly. 'Stetson, I hope you know what you're doing.'

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Lee paced nervously beside the Corvette, glancing at his watch again. 'She's late! Well, two minutes late, anyway. Dammit, late is late! Relax. This is Amanda, just Amanda.'

The same Amanda who seemed to be the cause of that strange, tingling sensation he had felt as he sat on her bed in the middle of the night, reluctantly, slowly, letting go of her hand. He had only gone to her home, and climbed the trellis at that hour, in order to warn her to stay away from Chamberlain because of his connection to the terrorist, Franco Necci.

'Chamberlain. That jerk!'

Who did he think he was--kissing Amanda? Even if it was pretty obviously, a goodbye kiss. It better have been goodbye and Mr. Documents Expert better be out of her life or . . . .

The familiar wagon pulled in and parked next to him. The door opened and he stood there, gaping like an idiot, as this vision emerged.

'Help her out of the car,' a little voice yelled at him. He stepped forward and extended his hand and she took it and allowed him to assist her.

Her gown was a color Lee had seen before. He couldn't recall the name. It was a kind of greenish-blue. It reminded him of a lagoon in the South Pacific, where the shallow water met the deeper part of the ocean. Whatever they called it, it was perfect for Amanda. The gown itself was perfect too. Formfitting at the top, accentuating her slender waist and then sort of flaring out. He was sure it was perfect for dancing--all night. He made a mental note to check his Events Calendar for the next Embassy Ball.

"Ahh, here, my car's right here," he mumbled, as though she couldn't see for herself that his car was indeed, right there.

She smiled up at him. "Thanks, ahh. . . . ."

"Oh yeah," he quickly reached down and opened the door and then helped her into the passengers seat. "Are you in?"

"Yup. I'm good."

"Better than good."

"What?" She asked, laughing at what she thought she heard.

"Nothing." Lee seated himself and started the car. Soon they were on the road, heading for the Kennedy Center.

A short time later, they were comfortably ensconced in their seats, twelfth row center, of the elegant hall

The houselights dimmed and the first strains of the music washed over them. The overture to La Forza del Destino.

'Destiny,' Lee mused. Destiny, as in train stations and needing help from a civilian and too many men in red hats?

He was glad that his visits to Italy, once when his uncle was stationed there, and on several Agency assignments, had given him a nodding acquaintance with, and an appreciation of, Grand Opera. At least the Italian variety. Judging by the expression on Amanda's face, she was enjoying the music as much as he believed and hoped, that she would.

It was funny, almost every piece, whether vocal or instrumental, reminded him in some way of Amanda or of the two of them, as a . . . . team. And, at some time during the evening, he had taken hold of her hand. Lost in his thoughts, Lee didn't notice that the music had stopped, the lights were turned up and people were applauding. He looked at Amanda, who was looking at him, curiously, and quickly let go of her hand. They joined the rest of the audience in showing their appreciation.

"Ahh, well," he started, feeling a bit awkward, knowing he'd been caught day dreaming, "I guess it's . . . ."

"It's time for the intermission," Amanda finished for him.

"Right." He flashed that 1000 megawatt grin of his, and took her arm, steering her up the aisle to the lobby. "Would you like some champagne?"

"Well….," she drew the word out as she tapped her finger on her chin as though in deep contemplation, "I think that would be very nice.." She gave him a smile that warmed his heart more than any magnum of champagne ever could.

The second half of the concert was just as enjoyable as the first. He was sure that no orchestra had ever performed Verdi so beautifully. The evening was magic. And it had to be the music--hadn't it?

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They arrived back at the IFF lot. Lee turned off the motor and turned to face his companion. "Well, I hope you had a good time. I sure enjoyed the evening."

"Oh yes," she responded enthusiastically. "It was wonderful! I can't thank you enough for inviting me to go with you tonight." She placed a hand on his arm and then, just as quickly, removed it. "I guess I better get going. It's kind of late and I know my mother will be waiting up for a full report," she laughed.

He laughed too and got out of the car. Walking around to the passenger side, he opened the door and helped her out. He stood there, very close to her, just looking into her lovely brown eyes. He couldn't remember ever wanting to kiss a woman so much.

He leaned forward and she tilted her face ever so slightly, up towards his.

Just as their lips were about to meet . . . . the bright headlights of a car bathed them in their merciless glare. Lee jumped back as though he had been physically pushed away.

Amanda turned towards the car as it pulled into the parking space next to hers.

Out stepped their boss. "Scarecrow---where have you been? I've been calling your apartment all evening! We have a major flap going on and I need you right now!"

"Ahh, yeah Billy. I ahh, that is, we--I mean I had these tickets for tonight and Amanda said she go with me. We, err, I didn't want to waste them. You know . . . . "

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Well looks like your evening is finished so let's get inside."

"Sir, do you need me too?" Amanda stood at attention.

Billy smiled to himself. "No, Amanda. You go on home. We can handle this for tonight. Maybe tomorrow, we'll have a better handle on the situation and then we'll see what help you can be. You look very nice, by the way."

"Yes, Sir. I'll see you in the morning. And--thank you, Sir. She turned and unlocked the door to the wagon. She got in and started the motor.

Lee followed Billy toward the entrance to the IFF building. He turned when he heard the station wagon start to pull away. He waved and smiled. In the dim light of the parking lot, he could just make out Amanda waving and smiling back at him.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe their first real kiss should wait just a little longer.

There were probably a thousand reasons why he and Amanda shouldn't be anything more than partners and friends--good friends-- best friends. Yeah, a thousand reasons. He just couldn't think of a single one, at that moment.

He'd have to work on that tomorrow.

end