“Vertigo has always been one of my favorite movies,” Douglas chimed in. “There’s something oddly attractive about Jimmy Stewart’s desperation, don’t you think?”
Kassandra looked up at the interruption in her story about the last summer with her friend Sasha, paused at the description of the outdoor movie they watched at their lakeside vacation spot. She flashed a smile at Douglas, bemused by his insertion of film criticism into the conversation.
“I love the visual style of it,” Allison added, another of the Pine Street group gathered in the living room that used to be Marilyn’s. “Me, too,” said Franny. “And Kim Novak’s transformation.” Leo scratched Precious behind her left ear. “Guess you and I are the only ones who haven’t seen it,” he said, smiling at the scruffy old dog.
David joined the discussion. “It’s particularly apropos, as a story of mistaken identity,” he said. “Yes, I’ve seen the movie, several times. If I’m not mistaken, Dad, once was with you, just before we – before I left for college.” Douglas nodded as David continued. “In fact, that was the first time I saw Vertigo. And none of my viewings was at an outdoor theater at some posh lake resort.”
He stood. “So if any of you are casting me as the villain of this story, let me remind you. I’m ten years older, at least, than our young barista here, and more importantly, I was never there.”
“Artist.” Franny leveled her gaze at David. He stared back, waiting for an explanation. Franny caught Leo’s eye and continued. “She’s an artist. Kassandra. She’s an artist who works at a coffee shop.”
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