The call turned out to be a trash can fire started by a stray cigarette butt; soon enough, they were back at the station and cleaning up the equipment. Becka was thankfully gone, but she left a note on his locker with her cell phone number. Paul grimaced as he removed it and stuck it on the inside of the locker door.
They had gone on a few movie dates in high school, but once he had met his late wife, who transferred to their school in their senior year, he never thought of another woman. He still didn’t; in spite of his promise to himself to keep an open mind, he just wasn’t interested.
However, at the end of shift, the thought of having dinner alone lacked appeal, so after he packed up his gear, he decided to give her a call. Read the rest of this entry
After Millie left, Vivian sighed as she relaxed in her favorite chair, and leaned against the crocheted antimacassar. She enjoyed the success they had in Atlantic City, but she wanted something more in her life than coming home with some extra pin money.
“I wonder if I should get a dog?” she mused out loud. Her one worry was that, at her advanced age, she may outlive the poor thing and leave it orphaned in the world. Then she shook off such maudlin thoughts as a momentary lapse. Read the rest of this entry
Christine hummed as she rinsed vegetables in sink. These were the last of the tomatoes and green peppers from the garden; the fall days were getting cooler and soon the maple leaves outside the kitchen window would change into their brief but glorious burst of color. She collected the makings of a couple of sandwiches, and carried it to the table. Read the rest of this entry
The weekend was finally approaching, and Paul was finishing several earnings reports when his office phone rang.
“You may not know this,” her grandfather began in a quiet tone, “but I was quite the good-looking kid during the War. I met your grandmother after VE Day, when we were all finally sent home. Before that, though, I had a girl here in Richmond. Her name was Vivian, and her family owned a dry goods store over on Centreville Rd, near the library. We went steady through high school, so I guess you can say we were high school sweethearts.” Read the rest of this entry
Paul trotted up to the neat white cottage and opened up the wooden gate with one hand, a bottle of wine tucked under the other arm. He always enjoyed his grandmother fussing over the gifts he brought over. He knocked politely, then let himself in. Walking towards the sunny kitchen in the back of the house, he heard mumbling coming from the right parlor room.
His grandmother must be on her computer again. Read the rest of this entry
“My dearest Vivian –
Thank you for the last letter you sent. I can almost picture the snow on the ground when you describe it. The long nights are the worst here at … socks are at a premium as the humidity makes it impossible to keep your feet dry. When I am homesick, I think about the last time I was in Indiana, when the leaves where just starting to change colors, and when you and I strolled down to Anderson’s Drug Store for a single sarsaparilla with two straws. With girls like you at home, we’ll push back the … straight back to their island. I hope…until I can once again walk hand in hand with you. Ever your knight, Bill.”
“Come on baby, relax and let me take it off.” A female voice crooned as Ned Jackson walked into the furniture shop and smiled. His granddaughter was up early and already working on his antique Wooten desk. Although their company employed several individual restoration specialists, the desk with its 110 cubbyholes and family history was one that Christine personally was restoring first by carefully removing the layers of grime that had built up over the 125 years that the desk had been in existence. Read the rest of this entry