A sign on the door said to make all work enquiries in the manager’s office next to the old popcorn stand. Peter shook snow from the trim of his hood and crossed the darkly lit lobby to the door on the other side. He gave a good rat-a-tat-tat and a flat voice, which didn’t seem entirely appropriate to the occasion given the enthusiasm of his knocking, told him to come in.

A large woman, with a big doughy bosom squeezed up against her desk, gave a cursory glance and continued eating her popcorn.

“I’ve come to enquire about a position, miss,” said Peter. “I don’t have any direct experience working in an establishment like yours, but back on the lake where I come from, I used to chaperone islanders to the falls, so I know how to make people feel at ease even if I don’t know them that well. I think I could transfer that skill to showing people to their seats in a warm and friendly way that’d make their custom here feel appreciated.”

The woman picked a piece of popcorn off the shelf of her bosom and said nothing.

“And,” said Peter, taking a seat, “if that’s not enough for you, I know how to have conversations about movies even though I’ve never seen one because Cooper used to tell me all about the ones from before. So, there’s that too.”

The woman looked up, narrowing her eyes like she was in an incredible amount of pain, and said nothing.

Peter set his hands down across his lap and smiled. “I’m Peter. Peter Nordstrum.”

“Kid, I just need someone to sit in the ticket booth and take out the trash once in a while.”

“I’m good with trash too. But more than that, I—”

“It don’t need to be more than that.”

“Oh. Only I’ve got an eye for things looking tidy. I noticed that the carpet in the lobby’s gotten threadbare. I can stitch that up. And I’m so used to my dad making a mess of things in the tree house, I’d have no problem going into the restrooms to clean them. I know what men are like when they’re aiming for the tree and hit the grass.”

“It’s just a job.”

“Oh, I know.”

“It won’t get you into the damned movie business.”

Peter laughed, but he didn’t know if he was being made fun of now. “No. I know that.”

“You always talk too much or can you sit and be quiet?”

“No. I can do that too.”

“For long hours at a time in the ticket booth?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. I’m a team player but I know how to motivate myself as an individual.”

The woman picked more loose popcorn from her shirt and ate it. “Jesus, kid. Where’d they get you from?”

“Wranglestone.”

“Yes, I—Look, never mind.”