Ida, who, in spite of her many ailments, was a tough cookie, showed that she also had a heart. She patted him lightly on the knee.“No need to be alarmed, Tex. It happens to the best of us. But mind that you don’t do it again, you hear? Not everyone is as liberal-minded as I am. Some people out there might take offense.”
He informed Ida that the suspicious spot was not suspicious at all, but all the while his mind was spinning out of control. How many letters were there? And how many neighbors had received them? Dozens? Hundreds? He remembered he’d been very active back in the day when he was courting Marge, the loveliest girl he’d ever met, and today still the most wonderful woman he’d ever known.
She’d be furious if she found out. Mad as a wet hen, in fact. And rightly so!
CHAPTER 7
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Margaret Samson, left alone to run the library in Marge’s absence, enjoyed the privilege of being able to stamp people’s library cards and give them reading advice in the process. An avid reader herself, she knew her way around the library, which was like her home away from home, its librarian a personal friend.
So when a man walked up to her, asking if she could give him some tips on what to put on his To Be Read pile, she kindly asked what type of book he favored.
“Oh, anything that adds a little spice to my life will do,” he said with a grin.
He was a handsome man, with a full crop of dark hair, graying at the temples, which gave him the distinguished look of a surgeon onGrey’s Anatomy, while at the same time sporting the build of a lifeguard. He was casually dressed in jeans and a sweater, and had one of those strong jawlines she liked so much in a man.
“I think I’ve got just the ticket for you, young man,” she said, as she reached for her phone and pulled up the letter Tex had written to his wife. “Now tell me if this isn’t spicy,” she said as she handed him the phone.
He scanned the letter, and much to her satisfaction almost immediately quirked an eyebrow.“Hot stuff,” he said appreciatively. “Who wrote this, you?”
“Nah,” she said. “You know Marge Poole? The librarian?”
“I’ve seen her around,” said the man. “Blond? Willowy?”
“Yeah, I’d describe her as willowy,” said Margaret as she eyed the man closely. “Why? She your type, Mr…”
“Rapp,” said the guy. “Gary Rapp. She could be my type,” he said. “But I thought she was married to some doctor?”
“Not for long, she won’t be,” said Margaret with a low chuckle.
“Trouble in paradise, huh?”
“Isn’t there always?” She might love a good Happy Ever After in the romance novels she read on a daily basis, but she was no fool. No woman likes it when her husband of twenty-five years puts the love letters he once sent out for trash collection. That’s just wrong. And besides, Tex had always struck her as an idiot.
Just then, the lady under discussion walked in, a harried look on her face.
“Hey, Marge,” said Margaret. “I want you to meet Gary. Gary, meet Marge.”
“Hey, there, Marge,” said Gary, putting that unctuous spin in his voice only the best ones can. “Margaret was just telling me what a great librarian you are.”
“She was? Why, thanks, Margaret.”
“Did you get your letters back?” asked Margaret, darting a quick look to Gary to see how he would respond. The man’s eyes lit up at the memory of that letter. Clearly his interest was piqued. Oh, how she loved to play matchmaker!
“Not yet,” said Marge. “But I’m going to.”
“Marge’s husband put his love letters in the trash,” Margaret explained, and watched Marge wince. “Now I’m asking you, what kind of a husband does that?”
“I’m sure it was just an innocent mistake,” said Marge, as her eyes flicked to Gary and away again.
“If a woman wrote me a letter like that, I’d treasure it for the rest of my life,” Gary assured them.
“It wasn’t actually me who wrote it,” said Marge.
“Oh?”
“See, Tex wrote the letters and I wrote him back, and I put the ones he sent me in a box and kept them, while he managed to lose the ones I wrote him.”
Margaret shook her head and tsk-tsked freely.“Lost them. How about that?”
“I hope you get them all back,” said Gary. “It’s terrible when you lose a personal memento like that. Especially through no fault of your own.”
“Yeah, it’s not a pleasant experience,” said Marge. “But let’s not dwell on it.”
“No, let’s not,” Gary agreed.
“Gary likes to read spicy novels,” said Margaret, sensing that the conversation might come to a standstill. “Exactly my kind of novel, in other words.”
“Oh, you read romance?” asked Marge.
“Yeah, I do,” said Gary, giving her a half-smile. “Unusual for a guy, I know.”
“Oh, no. You’d be surprised how many men actually read romance.”
“You’re kidding. Really?”
“Really. So you’re not alone, Gary.”
“Maybe you could show Gary around the library?” Margaret goaded. “He’s in search of some fresh reading material, and no one gives better advice than you.”
“Of course. Absolutely,” said Marge, always ready to assist a customer.
And as they went off, chatting amiably amongst themselves, Margaret nodded knowingly to herself. The first hurdle a couple must take had been successfully taken. The part where they meet for the first time and feel that spark. And that a spark had been felt was a certainty for this old hand at the romance game.
Tex Poole would rue the day he put those letters in the trash!
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
One of the perks of being a reporter is that you don’t have to punch in at nine o’clock or out at five. And since Odelia’s husband was a detective and he, too, could be flexible with his work schedule, the couple now stood in the entrance hall of the daycare center where they had just dropped off Grace.
Fortunately for them, their little girl was a sociable and happy child, who loved nothing better than to make new friends. And as they waved goodbye to their darling sweetheart, Grace didn’t even give them the time of day, engrossed as she was in a deep conversation with a friend, mommy and daddy already forgotten.
What the two toddlers were saying to each other, exactly, was a mystery to anyone, as it amounted to nothing more than disjointed sounds and nonsense words. But apparently, and in their very own way, they managed to communicate.
“I hate to leave her here,” said Odelia, who only now noticed how her husband had a big smile on his face. So big, in fact, that he looked a little ridiculous.
“We can’t always ask your gran to babysit, babe,” said Chase. “Or your mom and dad. They have their own stuff to do.”
“Yeah, I know. But still.”
He placed an arm around her shoulders.“And look at the bright side: they say that kids who go to daycare and learn to socialize end up doing a lot better in school and also in life.”
“I guess,” she said. But she still missed her baby girl. If possible, she would take her along everywhere she went, but she knew that simply wasn’t possible.
“Cheer up, babe!” said Chase, that rictus grin apparently a fixture on his face. “Grace is healthy, happy and she’s got a great future ahead of her and so have we!”
She frowned at her hubby.“Is everything all right with you, babe?”
“Of course! Everything is great! Everything is amazing! Wonderful!”
“Easy there, tiger. You’re starting to sound like Tony Robbins there.”
“Oh, wow. What a compliment. What a great thing to say! You’re making me so happy right now!” And he actually gave her two thumbs up to go with the crazy smile.
She shook her head, but decided not to pry. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was high on some illegal substance, but she knew Chase wasn’t into drugs. He didn’t even smoke or drink. Most likely he was trying to make her feel better about leaving Grace at the daycare center. Which was so sweet of him.