Short, shorter, shortest.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Woman's World magazine - February 14, 2013
"Fishing for a Date"
by Jody
Lebel
Good looking men don't
show up on your lawn every day. And to
find one poking around at a yard sale?
Even more rare. That alone made
him interesting, but his dark eyes and nice smile would have made most women
look twice. The tackle box with its worn
edges and trays of fishing gear had caught his eye. She watched amused as he pushed the hooks around
with a cautious finger. Karen would have pegged him more of a reader than a
sportsman. He seemed familiar but she couldn't place him.
Karen loved tag sales
and thought having her own would be fun but as the late autumn sun baked
everyone and everything, and strangers pawed through her possessions demanding
price cuts, she vowed to never do it again. At least the garage clutter was gone.
The man picked up the
box and strode directly to her. "You have this marked at five dollars?" His voice was deep and pleasant.
"Yes," she replied, steeling
herself for the inevitable haggling.
He handed her a
five-dollar bill. "I can work with
that."
Pleased, Karen thanked
him, then pointed to the box. "You
like to fish?"
"Oh, no, this is
for my nephew. He'll love going through all this – um – stuff." He wrinkled his nose and made a little
face. "I don’t even know the names
of the things in here," he admitted.
He didn't seem in any
hurry to leave even after Karen bagged up his purchase. His attempt to engage her in small talk warmed
her heart and she was enjoying herself until he was nudged aside by a woman who
wanted to check the plug on a toaster. By the time Karen finished helping her, he was
gone. She hadn't even gotten his name. Too
bad. It had been a long time since she
had been in the company of a nice man.
She closed the sale
early and went inside to cool down and put up her feet. When her husband had died last year after a
long illness, she hadn't had the heart or the strength to get rid of his
things. Now that she was ready, she
wished she had just called the Salvation Army.
A sharp knock on her
door startled her. When she saw the man who bought the tackle box on her steps
she was pleased until she realized he had it tucked under his arm. Her smile faded. Oh, no,
now people were returning things? Just great. Reluctant to let a stranger inside her house
she invited him to sit on the porch, and a moment later she brought out a pitcher
of iced tea.
"I'm Dan
Wright," he said, extending his hand.
"I'm the new pharmacist in town."
That's where she had seen him.
"And I wanted to ask
about this fishing box and the contents."
"My late husband spotted
it on top of a trash can on the side of the road and couldn't resist bringing
it home. He used to do that a lot."
She gestured to her yard sale with a wry
smile. "That's how I ended up with
all this."
Karen shook her head. "That's
not mine." She loved that he had
returned the ring. Most people would
have kept it.
"The year is on
the side there."
She took a better look. "And there are some initials inside,
see?"
He held it up to the
light and turned it this way and that. He rubbed the band with the edge of his shirt.
"It looks like I.S.W." He tipped the ring towards her. "You know with that bit of information I
bet we could find the owner."
She considered the
possibility. "I suppose we could look at old yearbooks, try to match the
initials."
"Yes," he
brightened. "Tomorrow, if you're
free, would you care to take a drive to the main library over in Brighton? I hear they have all kinds of reference books
there."
"All right." His enthusiasm was catching and she found
herself intrigued. By the ring and by him.
"This afternoon I
was fishing for a way to ask you out, maybe for coffee or something." He hesitated then stammered out quickly, "It's
been a while since I've dated. I may be
a little rusty."
She passed the pitcher
of iced tea and settled back in the wicker chair. The setting sun made the orange and yellow
leaves on her trees glow. A late
hummingbird visited her feeder.
"I can work with that," she smiled.Woman's World magazine - December 31, 2012
Meltdown
by Jody Lebel
The tech passed her a lemon scented wipe to clean her hands. "That was my ice cream."
The detective turned to the young patrol officer who was making an inventory of stolen items. "Add a container of ice cream," he ordered in a stern voice.
"What?"
He whipped out a box of pistachio ice cream from behind his back. As her face lit up he said, "I told you he wouldn't be back. I never said I wouldn't."
Beth studied the black smudges on the pads
of her fingers.
"We'll be done in a few minutes."
The crime scene tech gently rolled her index finger from side to side on the
screen."Just relax and let me do the moving."
Being fingerprinted was a new experience. One
she hoped to never repeat. "What is this for again?"
"Those are what are called
elimination prints. Once we have yours, we can concentrate on any others we
find."
That had come from the detective who
appeared in her doorway. She took in the crisp fold of his suit and his gold
badge dangling on a chain around his neck.He held a cloth grocery sack away
fromhis body as a green substance oozed through the bottom and trickled on the
stoop.
"I’m Detective Kevin Stone. Is this
yours?"
"Yes, when I opened the front door and
saw the mess I guess I dropped it."
"Smells like pistachio."The tech passed her a lemon scented wipe to clean her hands. "That was my ice cream."
The detective turned to the young patrol officer who was making an inventory of stolen items. "Add a container of ice cream," he ordered in a stern voice.
Seeing as how she was standing ankle deep
in a jumble of her belongings, that unexpected bit of humour took Beth by
surprise. But for her it was the perfect thing for him to do. She felt her tension begin to drain. Waggling
a finger at the list she added, "Anddon't forget the container of whipped cream
in there, too."
Detective Stone peeked into the bag. "That
fiend," he hotly declared before breaking into a teasing smile.He headed to
the kitchen. "I do realize this is
serious," he assured her, depositing the sloppy mess in the sink. "But
you looked like you were going to have a meltdown there for a moment."
Beth and the detective studied the list of
missing property together. "I don't
care so much about the television or laptop, those things can be
replaced," she said."But the silver frame? That belonged to my grandmother."
"We'll do our best to find this guy,"
the detectiveassured her. Crime was rare
in her part of town. He glanced around at the disarray, much of it now also
covered with black dust from the crime scene unit.
"Do you think it was random?"
she asked, arms folded tightly over her chest. "I mean do you think he'll
be back?"
Detective Stone put a warm, reassuring hand
on her arm."It's only a burglary. This guy wanted quick things to sell. He
struck while you weren't home, he won't be back."
His confident manner was soothing and for
the first time since she walked through her door she wasn't frightened. "Okay,"
she nodded, her voice stronger.
"I’ll leave you to clean up," he
said, moving toward the front door. "You've got good deadbolts; keep them
latched even when you're home."
Beth glanced at the pamphlet one of the
officers had handed her, an organized list of things for the victim to do. "I'll
get that window boarded up right away," she said. That simple task gave her a sense of
empowerment.
"We'll be in touch as soon as we know
something."
Although Beth had lived by herself for
years, when thedoor shut behind him she became acutely aware of just how alone
she was. She could use a man like the sensitive detective in her life. Too bad she had to meet him by being robbed.
Several hours workreturned everything to
normal, but jangled nerves refused to be swept away as easily. At midnight she
found herself on the couchin the darkened living room staring where the
television used to be. "I'm sorry, gram," she whispered.
A few days later a knock on her front door
brought Beth to the peephole. Pleased to see Detective Stone she gave her hair
a quick fluff and licked her lips. A rush of heat warmed her cheeks. As she
swung open the door her heart fluttered at the sight of her precious silver
frame.Or maybe it was at the sight of him.
"We got our man," he grinned. "He
tried to pawn everything down at Royal Pawn. Your other items will be returned
as soon as we process them, but I figured you'd like this right away."
"Thank you," she whispered, holding
the frame gently against her heart. "I didn't think I'd ever see it
again."
"You can thank me with a spoon,"
he said, a twinkle in his blue eyes."What?"
He whipped out a box of pistachio ice cream from behind his back. As her face lit up he said, "I told you he wouldn't be back. I never said I wouldn't."
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