It’s from Tom!’ she cried, gladly. ‘Wait a moment…’ Her thumb danced a jig over the keys for a few seconds, then she closed her phone with a flourish and dropped it back into her purse. ‘We’re going out again tomorrow night!’ she told Stan, with more than a hint of challenge. Stan had learned – he kept his opinion behind his teeth. – – – – – – – – – – However, by Thursday night Anne was feeling fairly miserable herself. She finally admitted to herself that she had, perhaps, over-reacted a touch. So, she phoned him, at home. ‘Stan? Hi, it’s Anne,’ she said as soon as he picked up the receiver. ‘Hi, Anne! How are you?’ came from the other end. ‘Great,’ she thought, irritably, ‘he only saw me a few hours ago, he knows how I am.’ But aloud she replied, ‘I’m fine, Stan. Actually, I want to talk to you. You’ve been bugging me all week, and, well, I might have gone a bit far. Can you come over now?’ ‘Of course, Anne, I’ll be there in a few minutes.’ The phone went dead and Anne put a pot of. Sixteen, maybe s*******n, she was no older than that. Scuffed oxfords, shoulder bag, white sox pulled up over the calves, a school k** who had maybe drifted into the line outside the book store just to see what was happening.She might have been a c***d actress or a model. I had photographed a lot of those - young things who will market the teenage look till they are in their late twenties or even thirty. She was certainly pretty enough, and the mouth was full, but small, puckered, real baby mouth. She had the look all right. My God she was lovely.I was at a book signing of my latest novel and this angel showed up to see me and get a book signed. She was leaning against the wall as casually as she had against the book table. This time she had one of my books under her arm and a little cigarette in the other hand. She crushed out the cigarette in the sand of the ashtray and walked toward me.“Hello Goldilocks!””Hello, Mr. Walker.” She was taking a pen out of her book bag. Unbelievable.
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