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  “Ah. You’re a very understanding woman.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I try to be.”

  “A very sympathetic woman.” And suddenly he saw his way in. A way to press his advantage. Through Gloria’s sympathy and compassion. “It’s rare to find someone with that gift.”

  She frowned in puzzlement. “Oh, I’m not—”

  “I admire you women. You can confide in each other, share your feelings. It’s harder for us men. We can talk about sports or politics or sex. But when our hearts get broken, it’s different.” He gave her a sad, resigned smile. Work it, buddy, work it. “There’s no one to share with. We’re alone.”

  “You mustn’t feel that way.” She took his hand again. “Surely there’s someone you can talk to.”

  “Why do you think I had to spill my—” he almost said spill my guts “—uh, my emotions on a blank sheet of paper?” Again, he gave the sad smile, the helpless shake of his head.

  She squeezed his fingers. “Would you like to talk to me?”

  Bingo! Hold on, don’t look too eager. He’d baited the hook, now he must reel her in slowly. “You must have better things to do than listen to my story.”

  “No, honestly. I don’t go into work until this afternoon. I have plenty of time.” Her face was so open and honest, again he felt a twinge of guilt. You’re an S.O.B., Dunn.

  But if that’s what it took to get this woman alone, so be it.

  As though worried he might refuse her offer, she quickly added, “There’s a coffee shop just a block from here.” She glanced at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. “This time of day it shouldn’t be too busy. We can talk there.”

  Check and mate. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

  Chapter Two

  Bryan and Gloria sat at a corner table with their cappuccinos. She was right, there were very few others in The Coffee Klatch at this hour, and they were far enough away from other customers that privacy was no concern.

  Gloria smiled warmly, inviting his confidence. “What’s her name?”

  What was she talking about? “Excuse me?”

  “The woman you were writing to. What’s her name?”

  Oh, right. Think fast, Dunn. “Oh. Courtney.” Now where’d that come from?

  “You obviously still care for her deeply.”

  “I—” He took a swallow of coffee to give himself time to think of a reply. “What makes you say that?”

  Her smooth forehead crinkled in confusion. “Well, your letter, of course. The way you poured out your heart.”

  “Oh.” Heat crawled up his neck as he remembered the mush in the note. Poured out his heart. Ugh. Just the thought made him want to gag.

  “Please don’t be embarrassed.”

  He cleared his throat, realizing the hole he’d dug with this deception. Each subsequent lie would only dig him deeper. “It’s painful to talk about.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but sharing these feelings can make them easier to cope with. I thought that’s why you wanted to come here. To talk…?” Suspicion clouded her features as she leaned back in her chair, withdrawing physically as well as emotionally.

  Damn it, he was losing her. He needed to work fast to get her back. “It’s hard. You feel like a fool, getting your heart broken.” Ugh. He felt like a fool, all right, talking in clichés that only belonged in romance novels.

  “There’s nothing foolish about it.” Her suspicion fell away, replaced by sadness that turned down the corners of her mouth and darkened her eyes. “But you’re right. It’s hard. And it changes you forever.”

  His ears perked up. Here was his chance to get her talking, to get the focus off himself. “You’ve been there?”

  Her expression grew shuttered. “Yes. I know exactly how it feels.” He hoped for more, but a moment later, she seemed to give herself a mental shake and was again smiling.

  “You never answered my question, earlier. Were you going to send your letter?”

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “If you love Courtney, I think you should. Only not that letter.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s too much about what you think she did wrong. When you say you never let me close and you put up walls, it sounds like you’re blaming her. I understand you were hurting when you wrote it. Angry. But that’s going to make her defensive.”

  “You remember the wording.” Just how much of the letter could she quote verbatim?

  A pink glow blushed her cheeks. “It moved me.”

  That gave Bryan pause. For a moment, he was almost sorry he hadn’t written those lines, in spite of them being hogwash. He wished he could have inspired those feelings in Gloria.

  She glanced at him mischievously from under her lashes. “My husband and I fell in love writing letters to each other. Well, notes, really. We passed them back and forth in math class. Back in junior high.”

  “Husband?” The word came out a croak. What the hell? Bryan took a quick look at the ring finger of her left hand. It was bare. But maybe she didn’t wear a wedding ring. Not every married woman did.

  Well, shit. If she had a husband, all bets were off. That was another one of his rules—no messing with married ladies. He might not have many standards, but what few he held, he kept.

  She nodded, her expression soft, her eyes dreamy. “We were married eleven years. A couple for much longer. Since eighth grade.”

  He let go a silent sigh of relief. Were married. So the husband was no longer a thing. That meant divorce or…

  Gloria continued recounting her tale. “Emilio would pass me notes, just silly things, sometimes only funny little drawings. In high school, he’d sneak notes into my locker. When we graduated, he joined the service. We wrote back and forth for a few years. He’d send me letters telling me how much he loved me. He even sent me poems. When he came home, even after we got married, he’d still leave me little notes every day before he went to work. Always telling me how much I meant to him. How he’d miss me while he was gone.”

  Bryan understood now, just from the way she spoke so lovingly of her Emilio, that there had been no divorce. “How long since he…”

  “He died twelve years ago.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make the conversation about me.”

  “No. Don’t apologize, please. I’m sorry for your loss.” If such a thing as heartbreak really existed, this woman had truly experienced it. She’d been left a young widow with a child to raise. How had she managed? Did she have family nearby to help? He had all kinds of questions.

  But before he could ask any, she said, “So back to your letter. Instead of putting the blame on Courtney for what went wrong, you need to go a different route.”

  “Such as?”

  “Tell her how you feel. Take more responsibility for what you did wrong. How you contributed to the break up. Apologize. You can’t change the past, but you’ve learned from your mistakes. Promise to do everything you can to make her feel loved from now on.”

  Well, that sounds like a hell of a lot of work. Did women really fall for that stuff? What was he thinking? Of course they did. It was almost sad, how sweet words and flowery promises could get to them. “What if she doesn’t come around?”

  “She might not, right away. You have to give it time.”

  Time. That was what he needed, more time with Gloria. They were almost finished with their coffees. Soon, she’d be saying she had to leave.

  And the coffee shop was filling up as the hour approached noon. Office workers and downtown shoppers were already lining up for the shots of caffeine they needed to get through the rest of the afternoon. Customers were grabbing tables left and right, piercing the bubble of privacy surrounding him and Gloria.

  “It’s getting crowded here,” he offered in a pre-emptive move. “Would you like to go somewhere else for a bit?”

  “Why don’t we take a walk around the park?” she suggested.

  They bussed their coffee mugs, and then
walked the few blocks to McKinley Park, chatting on the way.

  “So you’re free until the afternoon?” Bryan asked. “Is that your usual schedule?”

  “No, my schedule varies. I own a salon over on Harland Ave. Shear Magic.” She smiled, acknowledging the pun. “But I work there as a stylist, too. I’m usually there to open, but a couple of days a week I go in late and stay to close. What about you? Are you generally free during the day?”

  “Thursday is my light day. I have two classes early in the morning. I’ll go back to campus this afternoon for office hours.”

  They made their way to the fountain in the center of the park. Young moms with strollers ambled along the walking paths or sat on wooden benches, talking on their cell phones. Other benches were occupied by people who’d packed a lunch and were using their half-hour break to eat and absorb some early June sunshine.

  Bryan bought Gloria and himself ice cream pops from a vendor cart. As they circled the fountain, she spoke. “Tell me a little more about Courtney.”

  He almost dropped his ice cream on the path. “Such as?”

  “Well, why did she put up those walls?” He must have given her a blank look, because she added, “In the letter. You said she wouldn’t let you close, wouldn’t let you love her. Why do you think that was? Were there ever any clues?”

  “I’m sure her parents’ unhappy marriage had plenty to do with it.” Yep, he was already down the rabbit hole. His first few lies had only led to more and more.

  Was it too late to back out?

  And tell her what? That it was just a ruse to spend more time with her? Did he think she’d be flattered by that? Not a chance in hell. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t tear your head off.

  He wasn’t ready to lose her yet.

  A quavering cry tore him out of his dilemma. “Howard? Howard, where are you?”

  He and Gloria both looked around for the source of the voice. An elderly woman in a pink tracksuit stood beside an empty bench, her mouth flaccid with fear. “Howard!”

  There was a playground in the park. Maybe Howard had wandered away from his grandma when her back was turned. Before Bryan could glance Gloria’s way, she was already walking toward the older woman. “Do you need help?”

  The white-haired woman gaped at them, her eyes wide and glassy. She’d had lipstick on, but it had been chewed off and only a trace was left. “I can’t find Howard. He’s gone.”

  She was trembling. A tiny thing, she looked as fragile as a bird. Gloria took her gently by the arm. “Why don’t you sit?”

  The woman perched on the bench as obediently as a child. She blinked at them helplessly. “I know I shouldn’t have left him, but it was only for a minute. I had to use the ladies’ room. I told him to wait for me right here. He promised he would. He promised.” She began to cry quietly, tears slipping down her wrinkled cheeks.

  Gloria glanced at Bryan. “Maybe we should call the police?”

  “No!” The woman cried. “Not the police, please. Howard hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m sure he didn’t mean to wander off.”

  “He won’t get in trouble,” Gloria stroked the woman’s arm soothingly. “But the police can help us find him.”

  “Let me take a quick look around,” Bryan said. “What was Howard wearing?”

  “Oh, let me think, let me think.” The woman brought her hands up to her cheeks. “He has on a short sleeved checked shirt. Blue checks. And white sneakers. And, oh, a brown cap.”

  Bryan nodded. “I’ll circle the path, look around. Take a quick look over at the playground.”

  Puzzlement creased the tracksuit lady’s forehead and brought a stop to her tears. “Why would you look there? Howard wouldn’t go to the playground.”

  “He might have seen the other children playing down there and wanted to join them,” Bryan answered.

  “Howard’s not a child,” the lady said. “He’s my husband.”

  Gloria and Bryan exchanged looks. “Your husband?”

  “We come to the park every day. I always stay close to him, he gets so forgetful, you see. But today I had to use the ladies’ room. I was only gone for a few minutes—”

  To forestall another bout of tears, Bryan said, “I’ll take a look around. We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

  He took a quick turn of the park, scanning the crowd as he walked. Let’s see, blue checked shirt, brown cap…

  He spotted an old fellow who fit the description arguing with an ice cream vendor, not the same one Bryan had purchased treats from earlier. He hot-footed it over there.

  The old guy looked agitated while the ice cream man just shook his head, his mouth turned down in a frown. “No, it’s not free. It’s for sale. For money. You got some money?”

  Bryan edged up to the older man. “Howard?”

  The old man eyed him suspiciously.

  “You know this guy?” the vendor asked. “He wants ice cream. I’m trying to tell him he’s got to pay. He doesn’t get it.”

  Bryan spoke quietly to the gray haired old man. “Howard, your wife’s looking for you.”

  Howard blinked as understanding sparked in his faded blue eyes. “Letty?”

  “Yes. Letty. She’s looking for you. She’s worried.” He gently took the man’s arm. “Let’s get back to her.”

  Howard didn’t budge. His jaw clenched in stubbornness. “I want ice cream.”

  Bryan rooted in his back pocket for his wallet. “Ice cream. Sure.” He handed the vendor two dollars and received an ice cream pop, which he handed to Howard. “Here you are.”

  Howard took it and frowned. “Letty likes ice cream, too.”

  Bryan bit back a groan of exasperation. “Of course she does.” Another two dollars, and then he and Howard headed back to where the women waited. Howard grinned as he approached them, an ice cream pop in each fist.

  Letty hopped off the bench as soon as she spotted her husband. “Oh, thank goodness! Where did you go? Didn’t I tell you to stay right here and wait for me?”

  “I brought you some ice cream, Letty,” he answered, puffing his chest in pride.

  “Oh, Howard.” The woman shook her head, then turned to Bryan. “Thank you so much. Both of you,” she added, glancing at Gloria.

  “I’m glad it all worked out.” Gloria took Bryan’s arm as he said goodbye to Howard. The man sat on the bench, too intent on his ice cream treat to respond.

  “That was a lovely thing you did,” Gloria told him as they continued their stroll. “You never thought you’d end up a hero today, did you?”

  “A hero?” Bryan laughed. “We’re just lucky Howard is so fond of ice cream.”

  Gloria smiled and squeezed his arm. He rarely walked arm in arm with a woman and found he enjoyed the feeling it gave him, one of closeness and even a bit of protectiveness.

  “They’re a sweet old couple, aren’t they? I love to see people like that, who’ve been married so long and are still so devoted to each other. She was so worried about him.”

  Bryan frowned. “It must be hard for her, dealing with him wandering off that way.”

  “He may have forgotten not to wander off, but he didn’t forget how much he loves her. Did you see how proud he was when he gave her that ice cream?”

  Ice cream I paid for. Bryan kept that unromantic thought to himself as he took in Gloria’s wistful expression. She saw the whole world sentimentally through those rose-colored glasses of hers. Was she thinking of her husband Emilio, remembering their life together, as devoted to each other as Howard and Letty?

  He could tell her some things about long married couples. Take his parents, for example, coming up on their fortieth anniversary. He could think of any number of words to describe their relationship, but devotion would not be one of them. Nor would love or respect. Contempt, disdain, and bitterness were more appropriate.

  Even as child, he was aware of the cold war between his parents. When he grew older, he wondered why they ever married in the first place and why they didn
’t divorce. Long frigid silences would be punctuated by accusations and slammed doors. As a boy, Bryan was alternately ignored by his parents or overindulged as his mother and father each tried to win him to their side—mostly as a way to hurt each other. A confusing way to live. And not one that encouraged a positive view of marriage or romance.

  The bing of a cell phone brought him back to the present. He checked his phone, but no one was trying to reach him. Gloria pulled her phone from her purse. “It’s mine. Excuse me a moment. It’s my daughter.”

  She frowned at her smartphone, then tapped out an answering text. “I’m sorry. I have to head over to the salon. One of the stylists called in sick, and the schedule’s packed today. They need me.”

  “Oh.” His mood deflated. He’d hoped to spend more time with her. “Let me walk you to your car.”

  “It’s parked near the bookstore.”

  It didn’t take long for them to get back. As they stopped by her Toyota, Gloria said, “I enjoyed our walk. We had quite a little adventure, didn’t we?”

  “We did. I enjoyed meeting you, Gloria.”

  Her phone rang. She sighed as she fished it from her purse. “It’s my daughter Desiree again.”

  “So soon?”

  “The salon’s probably a madhouse. You have no idea how angry women can get when they think their hair appointment might be cancelled.” She was already opening her driver’s side door as she put the phone to her ear. “Hello, Desi? Yes, yes. I’m on my way. Yes. See you soon. Bye.”

  She tossed purse and phone onto the passenger’s seat and turned to him. “Got to go.” She hesitated for a moment, as though she wanted to say more. “Goodbye, Bryan.”

  “Don’t say goodbye,” he answered. “We’ll meet again in the poetry section.”

  They would meet again. As he watched her drive off, he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket. He still had the letter.

  Chapter Three

  “What’s had you in such a good mood all day?” Desi paused in sweeping the floor to question her mother. She was cleaning up to close the salon as Gloria went over the day’s receipts.

  Gloria glanced up from her paperwork. “What do you mean?”