21. Sightseeing
21
SIGHTSEEING
Mara
The next morning, I rushed to drop off Zephyr and get ready for sightseeing. Since Ford had suggested I wear something comfortable but dressy, I chose a summer dress and a pair of pretty wedge sandals.
At nine sharp, just as I finished buckling my sandals, the doorbell rang. My footsteps echoed in my quiet apartment as I hurried to the intercom and pressed the button.
“Hello?”
“Hey, gorgeous.” The tiny speaker didn’t do justice to Ford’s deep, rich voice, but a shiver still raced down my spine. He’d called me “gorgeous.”
I smiled. “Hey, handsome. Come on up.” I pressed the button to unlock the exterior door. I was so eager to see him that I stepped onto the landing to watch him climb the stairs.
He bounded up the steps, two at a time, carrying a pair of iced drinks. When he reached me, he brushed soft lips against my cheek and then stepped back.
“Your favorite,” he said, handing me a Loco Mocha cup. “I remembered from our coffee date.”
My heart skipped a beat. He was sweet and thoughtful. Points for him.
He glanced down. I thought he was going to compliment my sandals, but then he surprised me by pulling a dog biscuit out of his pocket. “Where’s Zephyr? I have something for him, too. I got it for him at the pet shop in town.”
Aw! He even wants to win over my dog? More bonus points! “He would have loved it, but I left him with my friend Gertrude, since we’ll be gone all day.”
“You can give it to him when you pick him up.” He set the elaborate treat on the table by the door.
Once we were downstairs, Ford directed me toward a black BMW with 850I imprinted on the back in chrome lettering. He opened my door, and I slid onto the white leather seat.
His gaze lingered on me, and a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “You know, I read somewhere that green is the color of luck. Looks like I hit the jackpot with you in that dress,” he said, winking at me.
I chuckled. “You know, with a ride like this, you’re really working hard to impress. Anything I should know?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.
Ford raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended. “Hey now, what are you trying to say about my car?”
I grinned back at him. “I’m just saying, you can’t buy happiness...but a sweet ride like this comes pretty close.”
He laughed and pressed a button to open the convertible top. It moved back like a transformer toy, stowing everything in a compartment in the back. I used the hair tie I always kept around my wrist to pull my hair into a ponytail.
Ford’s laughter filled the car, but my dad’s voice echoed in the back of my mind. I hated that his words had even gotten to me for a second. Was I being naive? Was Ford too good to be true?
I glanced at him, catching that easy smile, the relaxed way he handled the wheel. No, I had to trust my instincts. Ford wasn’t like that. I wouldn’t let Dad’s cynicism ruin this.
Ford revved the engine as we took off down the road. “You know, I once read that driving a convertible makes you feel ten years younger. So you better buckle up, because we’re about to turn back the clock.”
As we cruised down the road, I couldn’t help but enjoy the wind whipping my ponytail against my neck. “You know what they say. Life is too short to drive with the top up.”
He chuckled. “I like the way you think, but let’s hope we don’t regret that decision when we’re caught in a sudden downpour.”
I shrugged. “We’ll suffer through it together. Misery loves company.”
Ford shot me a sly grin. “I think I can live with that.”
On Beaver Street, he slowed to a crawl in front of a Victorian house from the late 1800s. “This is where a lot of Houseguest was filmed.”
“It’s beautiful, especially the rhododendrons. I love these older houses. They have so much character and history.”
“They’ve done a great job renovating it while still keeping the look authentic,” he said. “It’s a shame more builders don’t take the same care. From a filmmaker’s point of view, new buildings just don’t have the same charm and personality.”
As we continued down the road, stately houses dotting the land gently sloping toward the Ohio River made a picturesque view. The lush trees blocked my view of the waterway even though it was only a half-mile away.
My ponytail fluttered against my neck. “This is such a lovely drive. The scenery is like something out of a painting. It’s amazing how nature can create such breathtaking beauty.”
A few twists and turns later, we came upon a narrow lane that led to a gorgeous stone bridge.
“Wow, this is stunning. It looks like something out of a fairy tale. I can imagine a prince and princess riding their horses across it.”
Ford slowed to a crawl. “This is stop number two on our movie tour. It was another location for Houseguest . Isn’t it picturesque?”
“It’s gorgeous. It’s amazing how different locations can add so much to a movie. It makes me appreciate all the work that goes into making a film.” I tilted my head back and gazed up at the canopy of trees. “Zephyr and I sometimes take walks down here. There’s something magical about this spot. It seeps into you.”
“So, you do get out,” he said, his voice deadpan.
I shot him a glance and caught him grinning. “A girl’s got to get her exercise. Besides, Zephyr loves long walks.”
“I’d like to join you sometime.” He shifted the car into gear.
“Absolutely.”
He smiled his mega-watt Hollywood grin. That smile made my toes curl.
Our next stop was near a beautiful low stone wall. It ran alongside the road and seemed to go on forever. “This is where they filmed some scenes from Foxcatcher .” Ford pointed at an enormous house set a fair distance away. “They used that as a stand-in for the DuPont residence.”
“This wall looks like it’s been here forever.”
“At least a hundred years. It took Italian stone masons years to build it,” he said as he started the car moving again. A couple of minutes later, we were back in Sewickley.
“It’s hard to believe that grand old estate is right outside town,” I said.
“That’s Sewickley for you,” he said, as we turned onto Beaver Street. “Lots of old money around here. The steel barons used to build summer homes out here in the nineteenth century.”
“Sounds like a place for some serious wealth,” I said, nervously drumming my fingers against my leg.
“Definitely,” he replied. “In fact, lots of scenes from A Man Called Otto were filmed nearby in Ambridge.”
“Ooh, I’ll have to add it to my list of movies to watch,” I said, trying to take my mind off my nerves.
“Speaking of movies, how did your parents react to the news about Ghost ?” he asked.
“My mom was ecstatic, but my dad...” I trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.
“He wasn’t as thrilled, I take it?”
“No,” I said, wincing. “He thinks you’re just trying to get into my pants.”
He let out a hoot of laughter, “I won’t deny that I find you incredibly attractive,” he said, shooting me a sexy grin that made my heart skip a beat. “But I also think Ghost is amazing. Just like you.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling shyly. “I know you’re not like that. It’s just…my dad. He never liked Chance’s comics, and he’s not a fan of anything that’s not grounded in reality. He’s more of a documentary kind of guy. No magic. No superpowers. Only cold hard facts. Since he never liked Ghost , he can’t understand how anyone else could.”
Ford sped down the highway, my ponytail whipping my neck. I felt like a Hollywood superstar in his car, wearing my big diva sunglasses. This car was the bomb. People in other cars gawked, but I knew I could never go incognito with the blue tips in my hair.
As we stopped at a traffic light, Ford pointed toward the train tracks. “Those tracks run parallel to the river all the way into the city. One of the railroad presidents who lived in Sewickley had his own private train stop for commuting.”
“Must be nice to have that kind of power,” I said with a grin.
He nodded. “You know all about that, running your own store.”
I hesitated. “True, but it also means I’m accountable for everything, from customer satisfaction to preventing shoplifting. I’m trying to learn more about marketing and advertising, but it’s not my strong suit. Owning my own company definitely has its drawbacks.”
“I’m lousy at the marketing side of things, but you and Max should talk. He’s great at it. He might be able to help you.”
“Maybe. It might be nice to bounce ideas off someone. Thanks.”
Ford rubbed his neck. “I’ll need to develop new skills. I’ve never made an action flick before. I’ll have to pick Sean’s brain about complex action sequences. All my previous movies were psychological thrillers that relied on tension, with smaller action sequences.”
The light turned green, and Ford accelerated. “I almost forgot to mention another movie made here in Eastern Pennsylvania. Unstoppable . It’s about a runaway train heading into a city and the two men who stay on board to try to stop it.”
“Are they the heroes?” I asked.
“Reluctant heroes,” Ford replied, smiling. “My favorite kind.”
“I love stories about ordinary people facing extraordinary situations,” I said, excited. “Seeing them make difficult choices and dig deep to tap inner resources they didn’t know they had is inspiring.”
He glanced at me. “That’s not exactly the superhero model.”
“It depends on the story,” I said. “ Deadpool , for instance. He’s certainly not your typical superhero. Or Will Smith in I Am Legend , an everyday man facing overwhelming odds after a zombie apocalypse.”
I glanced at Ford. His delicious lips were curved in a relaxed smile. He looked perfectly at ease as we breezed down the highway.
As we approached downtown Pittsburgh, Ford filled me in on more than just the city’s moviemaking past. Apparently, George Washington fought in the French and Indian War near here. He gestured toward Point State Park. “Check out the fountain.”
I’d seen it before. Even at a distance, it was hard to miss. “That thing is enormous.”
“One-hundred and fifty feet wide. The Allegheny and the Monongahela come together here to form the Ohio River. Fort Pitt was right here, at the confluence of the three rivers. The entire fort all but disappeared until an archeology team unearthed its foundation. A museum is there now, and part of the fort has been rebuilt. The only original building that’s still standing is a blockhouse.”
“You really know this city.”
“I’ve always been a history nut. I can’t help it. Stories get to me. Always have. I guess that’s why I like to make movies. My eighth-grade history teacher had our entire class walk down to the Ohio River one day to emphasize the impact the waterway had on Pittsburgh and the entire region. He talked about how history affects our everyday lives. All we have to do is look around, take notice, and see the connections.”
“It sounds like he hooked you.”
Ford took the next exit. “He did. A good teacher at the right moment can have a lasting impact.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I took a robotics summer camp in fifth grade. The teacher was a riot. She kept talking about all the amazing things computer programmers could do. It really opened my eyes to the possibilities. She’s the reason I became a code-slinger.”
He glanced at me. “You seem to miss it.”
“Sometimes,” I said with a shrug. “But I keep my hand in by picking up coding jobs here and there.” It was the only way I could keep up with the loan payments on the store and the apartment above it after Chance had made all the renovations.
As we drove, Ford pointed out where a Batman movie had been filmed, as well as Fences with Denzel Washington.
“How is it I never knew all these movies were filmed here?”
He shrugged. “You’ve only lived here for a year. Plus, you’ve been busy. Have you seen The Perks of Being a Wallflower ?” Ford asked.
“Of course!” I exclaimed, swiveling in my seat to face him. “It’s one of my all-time favorites. Especially that scene with Emma Watson where they drive through the tunnel.”
“The tunnel isn’t far from here,” he said, sliding his hand over mine. “Do you want to drive through it now?”
My heart gave a hard thump. “That’d be freaking amazing. I could reenact the scene. Your convertible is perfect for it.”
“No way. No standing up in my car. Safety first,” he said firmly.
“Wimp,” I teased. His concern for my wellbeing did odd things to my heart.
“Maybe,” he said, giving me a side eye. “Or just sane.”
Before long, we approached the entrance to a white-tiled tunnel, and I gave a startled gasp. “That was quick.”
Suddenly, an idea hit me. “Wait... Aren’t we supposed to be listening to a certain soundtrack? What was the song that was playing in that scene?”
“ Heroes . By David Bowie.” He gave a wry smile. “That seems surprisingly appropriate for you.”
“That’s the one!” I did a quick search on my phone and started playing the song.
As we entered the tunnel, I couldn’t help but gasp in awe. I tipped my head back to stare up at the white subway tiles flashing by. The rush of noise and wind filled my senses, and I found myself lost in the beauty of the moment.
Without thinking, I released my seatbelt and stood up. The wind whipping at my face—the bright white tiles—the tips of my ponytail flicking riotously and stinging my cheeks and neck—the lights lining the tunnel—it overwhelmed me. Ford’s voice barely registered over the din as I reveled in the overwhelming sensation of it all.
I shouted in pure joy, wanting this moment to last forever, but as we burst out of the tunnel into the clear blue sky, Ford’s hand tugged at my elbow.
“Please,” Ford insisted. His voice finally penetrated as the bubble of sound and fury and nothingness surrounding me suddenly collapsed.