40b1ce81e27faee7f7dcd22da99b93e1

Natalie nodded quietly.“I knew you liked me, Tom. I’ve known for a long time. And I think you’re a great guy.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “So… if I asked you out again sometime. I mean, not now, obviously. But later—once you’re feeling better. Do you think… I mean do you…”

“I’m pregnant, Tom. I’m having Michael’s baby. I’ve thought about this a lot, but I’m not going to have the abortion. So this might not be such a good idea.”

“I don’t mind,” said Tom.

“You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t mind that I’m having another man’s baby?”

“Absolutely not. I love you, Natalie. I want to take care of you. You and your baby.”

“Oh,” said Natalie, and brought a distraught hand to her face. Her eyes were welling up again. And this was the moment Scarlett gave Tom a prod in the ribs, causing that young man to jump forward. He collided with Natalie, and nature did the rest. His arms folded around the young woman, she pressed her face into his chest, and as we watched on, there was hugging, and weeping, and sweet words being exchanged.

“Let’s give these two some privacy,” said Gran finally, her voice suspiciously husky, and so that’s what we did: we all retreated into the living room, where we watched Luke Ferrara go through that room like a human hurricane, picking up litter, collecting broken bottles and crushed beer cans, and generally working harder than he had ever worked before in his life to clean up the mess he and his friends had made. All to avoid being chucked out a fifth-floor window.

Which reminded me. Who else had been chucked out of a window recently?

Exactly.

I could tell that Gran and Scarlett had the same idea I had, for Gran said,“Looks like we’ve got our killer, hon.”

“Too bad,” said Scarlett. “Just when young love was in the cards.”

“Let’s give them a moment before we call the police,” Gran suggested.

And so it was decided: Tom might be a killer, but he was also a man in love. And so he might be excused for going around chucking the men who hurt the woman he loved out of windows. Nobody’s perfect, after all.

CHAPTER 32

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Marge had been busy scanning the books people had returned when Gary Rapp walked in. The man looked as if he’d walked straight out of a romance novel: dove-gray suit, stylishly coiffed, with a killer smile on that confident face.

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time, Marge Poole,” he announced as he walked up to her counter. “I’ve got a great little restaurant picked out for a cozy dinner for two, and I would like very much if you said yes.”

“Oh, Gary,” said Marge. “I’m flattered, but you know I’m a married woman.”

“But not a happily married woman, if my information is correct.”

She wavered, but only for a moment.“I am very happy with my husband.”

“If I were your husband, I wouldn’t casually dump your love letters into the trash,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. “Instead I’d remind you every day of my love for you.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Gary, but—”

“Just say yes, Marge. You know you want to.”

She laughed.“You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants. And right now I want you.”

“Oh, Gary,” she said with a smile. Gary had taken her hand, and was fingering it intently.

“What’s going on here?” suddenly a voice boomed behind them. They both jumped at the sound. And when Marge turned, she saw that Tex was standing there, eyeing them with a face that spelled storm. In his hand he was holding a bouquet of pink roses.

“Tex,” she said, startled by this unexpected development.

“Marge,” said Tex, as he freely ground his teeth, taking in the scene.

Marge tried to extricate her hand from Gary’s, but the latter hung onto it, like a trophy. “I think an apology is in order, Poole,” said Gary, a steely note in his voice.

“You’re absolutely right, Rapp,” said Tex. “So you better start apologizing.”

“You’re the one who owes an apology to your wife. For dumping her letters in the trash, and allowing them to be distributed around the neighborhood, causing her a lot of aggravation and humiliation.”

“I already said I’m sorry,” said Tex.

“If you really loved your wife, Poole, you wouldn’t be so negligent.”

Tex’s face was working, and Marge, who finally managed to retrieve her hand from Gary’s grasp, said, “I know you’re sorry, honey. And I forgive you.”

“You’re being too kind, Marge,” said Gary. “Though knowing what a wonderful, kind-hearted woman you are, I shouldn’t be surprised. But let me tell you that this man doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.” He suddenly got down on one knee. “Marge, let me prove to you I’m a better man than your husband will ever be.”

“Gary, please…”

“If you wrote me a letter, I would treasure it, not dump it in the trash.”

Marge saw Tex wince at these words.

“Just let me prove it to you. Let me take you out to dinner.”

She smiled.“Gary, you’ve been very kind, and very persistent, but I love my husband. Even after twenty-five years, I still love him. Oh, I know he’s absentminded sometimes, and does stupid things. But that’s all right.”

“But he’s a moron!”