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“I’m a fast reader,” he said with a warm smile. “And I have to say, you weren’t kidding when you told me I’d love these. I did, and now of course I was wondering if you can give me some more good advice.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I can show you a few more that I’m sure you will like.”

And as she took him to the romance department, she became aware of his presence behind her, and knew he was checking her out. It supplied her with a frisson of excitement. It had been so long that a man had looked at her like that, she’d completely forgotten what it felt like. And she had to admit it felt good!

She showed Gary a few books she thought he would like, and he took them all. Then he turned to her.“Could I perhaps entice you to have dinner with me?” When she opened her mouth to protest, he quickly held up his hand. “Just to talk some more about books, I promise you. I know you’re married, and coming between you and your husband is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“I can’t, Gary. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” he said, graciously accepting her refusal. “If you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” she assured him.

“Clearly you have a husband who makes you happy,” he said. She wavered, and he continued, “Which is exactly what you deserve, Marge. A woman like you deserves a husband who treats her like a queen. Makes sure she’s feeling loved and taken care of every moment of every day.” He took her hand. The warmth of his touch seeped into her hand, and instead of pulling back, she thought it felt good to be touched like that. With reverence. With respect. “Just promise me you’ll think about it,” he said.

She found herself nodding.“Thanks, Gary. You’re very sweet.”

“Not sweet,” he corrected her. “I think smitten is a better word.”

And like a kid of fifteen, she actually blushed!

Oh, how silly she was being!

He leaned in, then, but before their lips touched, she broke the spell by turning her head away.“I couldn’t,” she said quietly, and so instead he kissed her hand.

What a perfect gentleman, she thought once he’d left. She felt all fluttery, and her legs had turned to jelly.

Just then, her phone chimed, and she picked up.“Yes, Tex?”

“I got your letters back,” he announced, sounding a little breathless. “Every last one of them.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said absentmindedly, looking at the hand where Gary had placed that kiss. She could still feel the touch of his lips.

“And I promise you this will never happen again, Marge.”

“It better not,” she said.

“Though I think Mrs. Jackson made a copy of one of the letters. The one about the tampon? She seemed really intrigued by it. Couldn’t stop asking questions.”

In spite of herself, she had to smile.“Oh, Tex,” she sighed.

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Harriet listened to Tex explaining to Marge about their letter retrieval expedition. She was thoroughly bored with the entire incident by now. How silly humans were. And how petty. Just because a couple of letters had escaped into the wild they had to go and make a big fuss about it. Who cared about some old letters from thirty years ago? And besides, it wasn’t Tex’s fault, was it? In fact it could have happened to anyone.

“Humans,” she told her boyfriend. “They just love to make a mountain out of a molehill every single time, don’t they? Drama, drama, drama.”

They were back at the house, with Tex pacing the living room, and Harriet and Brutus on the couch. Which is when Harriet caught Brutus staring at her for some reason. Her heart stopped.“What is it? Is something wrong with me, precious?”

“There’s something on your nose,” said Brutus.

Her heart stopped—or at least that’s how it felt.

“What is it?! Tell me!” she demanded.

“A spot,” said Brutus. “Just a tiny spot, really.”

She uttered a wail of despair, then flew off the couch, and up the stairs. In the bathroom, she jumped the sink in one swift movement and moments later was staring at her reflection in the mirror. And that’s when she saw it. A big red spot had appeared on the bridge of her nose.

“Nooooooooooo!” she cried in agony.

It wasn’t a small spot, like Brutus said. It was a big spot. In fact the spot was all she could see, as it seemed to cover her entire face!

It was red, it was angry, and it looked as if someone had slashed her face with a sharp razor.

And with her photoshoot only days away, it was the worst possible moment for this horrible blemish to appear on her lovely visage.

Brutus, who’d silently snuck into the bathroom, glanced up at her. “It’s not so bad, is it?” he asked—the traitor!

“It is bad!” she wailed. “It’s horrible. It’s a tragedy—the worst thing to happen to me ever!”

“It’ll pass,” he said. “Just you wait and see. This time tomorrow it’ll be gone.”

“No, it won’t. It’ll keep on growing and growing and growing—like a pumpkin. And just when I’ve got to be ready for my shoot, I’ll look like a monster! A terrible, hideous monster!”