The sun pouring through the window highlighted Annette’s head, making her hair a brighter blonde. The cheerfulness on her face combined with the sun’s glow, made him lose his breath for a moment. Why hadn’t he ever realized how lovely she was?
Malcolm cleared his throat, snapping Peter out of the momentary spell he’d been under. When he looked at Malcolm, his friend was reading a few letters. Peter was now relieved he hadn’t added his real name. He didn’t want anyone to know what that article had truly made him feel.
Blinking, he pulled himself together and stepped further into Malcolm’s office. Immediately, Annette’s focus moved his way. Her eyes still danced, and her wide smile was contagious.
“I see you found your father,” Peter said.
“As did you.”
Peter moved to the desk and stopped, keeping his attention on Malcolm. “So, what’s the verdict? Is this mystery journalist going to have a spot in next week’s newspaper?”
As Malcolm lowered the letter he’d been reading, he met Peter’s gaze. The older man’s smile stretched wider. “I believe so. You need to read some of these letters.” He handed one to Peter. “Dear Lovelorn might have struck gold for us.”
“What do you mean?” Peter skimmed his gaze over the letter, relieved that it wasn’t the one he’d written.
“What if next week’s article is answering these questions?”
Peter arched an eyebrow. “Are you serious? Could we get in trouble over this?”
“I cannot see how.” Malcolm leaned back in his chair. “Our Lovelorn can make suggestions on what these people can do to find what they’re looking for.”
“What if the mysterious writer gives them the wrong advice?”
Malcolm chuckled. “We’ll add a disclaimer, or we could just have the writer add that this is what they would do. They could even write to take or leave their suggestion.”
Peter glanced up at Annette, still smiling. “What do you think about this?”
She sighed happily. “I’m just amazed at all of the mail we’ve received due to this one article.”
“Do you mind if I read a few?”
Annette shook her head and gave him a handful. “You’re not going to believe some of the things that are written in these letters.”
Peter skimmed through a few of them, amazed just as Annette had been. He even read his own letter and silently chuckled, still not believing he was daring enough to do this. “Oh, look at this one,” he held up a letter, “this one is proposing marriage.”
Malcolm laughed out loud. “Indeed, and the man doesn’t even know if the writer is a woman or man.” He took the letters from Peter and handed them to Annette. “I want you to make a box for these so that the journalist will have access to them.”
“Of course, Pa.”
“Who is this secretive person?” Peter asked. “Don’t I get to know their identity?”
Malcolm shook his head. “In due time, my friend. In due time.”
As Peter left the room, it occurred to him that he should have asked exactly how much time Malcolm considered due.
FOUR
Annette giggled as she sat at her desk and prepared to answer the letters. Although it had been a shock to see so many people respond to one article in the newspaper, it shocked her even more when her father allowed her to have one full page in the St. Louis Gazette’s next edition just for her to answer the letters and encourage them with what she thought was a good suggestion.
She would post each letter before adding her response. She started out her page, thanking everyone who had sent her a letter, and, upon her father’s suggestion, mentioned that she was giving advice and it was up to them to take it or leave it. At least, that would cover the newspaper in case her suggestions went awry.
Dear Lovelorn,
Your article intrigues me. I assume you know this topic well enough, and so I’m hoping you can help me. I’m a man who doesn’t have time for courtship, but I’m eager to find a wife. What would you suggest I do? Should I let my parents arrange the marriage as what is done in other countries? I had hoped the woman would find me and be the one who would pursue the courting, but since that hasn’t happened, I’m at a loss. Please help.
Busy in St. Louis.
Dear Busy in St. Louis,
I was very pleased to get your letter. I would love to help you with your problem, and hopefully, something I say will give you direction. I think you should reach deep into your heart and mind, and decide what you really want to do. Arranged marriages take a lot of work after the wedding, but since you’re a busy man, why not let one of your friends help you find a woman? Either that or look at everyone that you know who might have an unmarried friend, sister, or daughter. As you probably know, love can hit us at the most inappropriate times.
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn
Annette reread what she’d written, grinning broader. She couldn’t believe how much fun this was. She hurried and picked up the next letter with the same enthusiasm she had before.
Dear Lovelorn,
I was very pleased to read your article in the newspaper – and surprised since I’ve not read anything like this in the St. Louis Gazette before. I’m twenty-two years old, and I’m shy. My parents have tried to find beaus for me, but I fear there are no men who enjoy having this particular quality in a wife. I don’t want to end up a spinster. What should I do?
Shy Nellie.
Dear Shy Nellie,
I sympathize with your struggles since I have had them myself. I cannot say I’ve fully come out of my shell, however, it’s a learning process. You must believe in yourself. Tell yourself everyday “I am a beautiful woman who will find love.” Keep in mind as you get ready to talk to men that they have the same insecurities. If you can overcome yours, you will be able to help others and allow them to see your heart.
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.
Annette chuckled and shook her head. Who would have thought she’d be able to share her own experiences?
Dear Lovelorn,
I’ve been a widower for several years, and I hesitate to find love again. I have a child, but I worry that if I try and marry again, my child might be unhappy. How can I find a woman who will be a good mother to my child and who will want to not only gain my love but my child’s?
I’m lonely.
Dear Mr. Lonely, my advice to you would be that if you find a woman who will fill the emptiness in your heart, have her become friends with your child. Soon, your child will accept that you love this woman, and because the child is also friends with her, your child will welcome this woman into her heart, too. Don’t forget to talk to your child so that they know you still love them and want what is best.
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.
Annette sighed, thinking of her own father. Maybe he would read this and realize it was way past time for him to find another wife. Then again, maybe Annette would be the one who would have to help matters along.
She found another letter and read through it again, trying to think of a response. How could she respond to the proposal without giving away her identity? Part of her wanted to get to know this man too, but there was no possible way to do that. If only she knew who had written the letter.
Dear Lovelorn,
Your identity has me curious, but I’m in hopes that you are a woman. You are very knowledgeable on this subject, and I feel you are the perfect woman for me. So, if you are a woman, I would like to meet you and see if we could have a future together. I would very much like to be with someone who thinks the same way as I do. Perhaps you have just started a different option in the “courtship world” because I would like to get to know you through letters, just as you can get to know me.
Yours Truly, Match Made in Heaven.
Dear Match Made in Heaven,
I’ll admit that your letter has me clueless on how to answer, especially since I cannot give away my identity. Do I embarrass you by letting you know I’m a man – or do I embarrass myse
lf by admitting I’m a woman writer? Decisions, decisions… Instead, I’ll address your comment about starting a different option in the “courtship world”. I’m all for writing letters to people who you cannot fully converse with, and if that leads into something stronger than friendship, then that’s a good thing. However, perhaps writing to the newspaper in hopes that I’m a woman probably isn’t the best idea. Good luck with finding your Match Made in Heaven.
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.
Annette nodded, liking that answer. At least she didn’t have to ponder on it too long.
Within thirty minutes, she had answered the other letters, satisfied with her advice. These people couldn’t know who she was – ever! They would definitely not like having an unmarried woman telling them how to run their lives, especially when it came to love.
She gathered the type-written pages, placed them in a satchel, and readied herself to go to the office. She wore one of her blue dresses, only because she liked the way she looked in this color. Instead of coiling her hair in a bun, she let the bulk hang around her shoulders and down her back. Using hair-combs, she pinned back the locks away from her face. She pinched her cheeks to bring more color to her face, although, she knew if someone gave her a compliment, her face would beam red.
Immediately, her mind shifted to Peter. It surprised her that she’d think of him right now. And why would she think of him at all? He was a handsome man, but she’d never thought of him in that fashion before since he was always her father’s friend and having a schoolgirl crush on Peter just wasn’t feasible.
She chuckled and grabbed the satchel. Schoolgirl crush? Indeed! Why had that phrase even entered her mind? So, they had a private and most intimate conversation yesterday, one that had never happened before. That didn’t mean anything except maybe they were becoming closer friends. Yes, that’s what it meant.
She took the buggy to the office, not wanting to walk the three miles today. Not in her pretty blue dress, anyway. As she parked the buggy and set the brake, she noticed there was a crowd of ten men in front of the newspaper. Her father was out talking to them. They were too far away for her to hear anything.
She wrapped the reins around the post inside the buggy and prepared to climb down. Suddenly, a man’s hand appeared in front of her, and as she followed the limb, it led to a familiar face… a very handsome face, in fact.
Inwardly, she scolded herself. Why was she thinking about Peter this way?
“Here, let me help you,” he said.
It didn’t matter that she could climb in and out of the buggy by herself – and had done so many times – but she slipped her hand into Peter’s without a second thought, as if her hand had a mind of its own. “Thank you, Peter.”
As she stepped down, her foot slipped and she fell against him. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her from falling. She stared into his worried eyes – eyes that looked more green than brown at the moment. Her throat suddenly grew dry like August in Texas during the middle of the day.
“Are you all right?” he asked, setting her down on her feet.
Once she had her bearings, she stepped away from him. That small action had made her heart hammer wildly. Not only that, during the brief closeness between them, she detected his cologne. Sweet nublets, he smelled wonderful. The temptation to lean in and get a bigger whiff of his cologne became almost overwhelming. Strange, since she’d never wanted to do that with any other man who’d courted her.
“Um, yes. I’m fine.” She turned toward the buggy to get the satchel, mainly because the intense heat in her face let her know it was probably redder than a sunburn. She fidgeted with the satchel as if trying to find something. It was just a ruse as she waited for the embarrassment to leave her face. “What is going on out front?”
Peter chuckled. “Apparently, the article in the paper from the Lovelorn has stirred a great interest in the public.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What do you mean?”
“They mainly want to know why your father allowed such an article to appear in the paper.”
“What did he tell them?” She pulled away from the buggy but kept her back toward him as she watched the group of men with her father.
“He said that he is giving a new journalist a chance to prove himself by writing something different.”
She chuckled, finally feeling like her face had returned to normal, so she faced Peter. Today he wore her favorite gray suit jacket over matching trousers. Because of his black hair, she’d always thought he looked better in gray. “I’m proud of my father for standing up to those men and backing his faith in this new journalist’s abilities.”
“I feel the same way.” Peter folded his arms. “I really think this new journalist is going to bring more readers to our paper.”
“You do?” Her heartbeat quickened. “Why?”
“Because it’s so different. You’ve read your father’s newspaper since you were a little girl. There has never been a topic such as this latest one.”
“And you really think it’ll be good for the newspaper?”
“Absolutely.”
She grinned. “Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that way.”
Peter’s gaze narrowed on her while his mouth stretched into a wider grin. “Yes, it’s good to know our thoughts are aligned. Then again, I always thought you understood me better than your father sometimes.”
Sweet nublets, why was it suddenly more difficult to breathe? Something must be terribly wrong with her. Perhaps she needed to see the doctor. After all, her body’s temperature was rising more than normal.
“Uh, sure. I suppose…” She looked at her white hands clutching the satchel, wishing this awkward moment would pass. “Do you need to go help my father now?”
“No, he has things under control.” Peter motioned to the building. “Do you mind if I walk with you inside?”
Her sporadic heartbeat confused her greatly. She’d walked beside Peter many times. Of course, usually her father was present. So, then why was she nervous about walking beside him now?
Peter reached the door first and opened it like a gentleman. She gave him a small smile and entered. They walked in silence toward her office, and for the first time that she could remember, she was aware of everything. She heard his breathing, she smelled his incredible cologne, and when he touched her, tingles shot through her body. This was definitely odd, and she wasn’t sure she liked it only because it made her shy. Although she’d been shy as a child, as she reached womanhood, she’d outgrown it – just as she’d told Shy Nellie.
Perhaps she had somehow withdrawn back into her shyness once again. Or maybe Peter was the one at fault. Was he the one changing instead of her?
FIVE
Sitting at his office desk, Peter eagerly read the newest edition of the St. Louis Gazette, searching for the reply from the Lovelorn. Malcolm had given the writer a whole page, which surprised Peter, but he knew it would delight their readers.
He found his letter and scanned the response. He chuckled and shook his head. Strange, that he would look forward to something this mundane, and yet, for some reason, it had lifted his spirits. Reading the other responses from the Lovelorn, made him realize this writer was truly gifted. The answers to the letters were brilliant.
Now, if he could only discover who it was. Malcolm was very closed mouth about the subject and wouldn’t even give Peter a hint to the person’s identity, which meant, Peter would have to do some investigative work himself. He’d been an investigative reporter before, so it was time to dust off his tools and get to work.
Peter’s job at the newspaper was paying the bills and finding more places that would sell their paper, which he didn’t mind, but he did miss his reporter days. After what happened outside earlier, he was thinking about making Annette his first subject. She was only nine-years-old when he moved to St. Louis and his family met hers. Being nineteen, he had looked at Annette as the child she was. When he started worki
ng for the newspaper, he still thought of her as being so much younger than him, and yet now… she was definitely a woman.
What had triggered that idea inside his head that made him start thinking about her this way? Yet, within the last week, she had been on his mind more often. The past few nights, he’d gone home from work thinking about the way her face glowed with excitement, which enhanced her lovely blue eyes. Today, her blonde hair looked so silky, that it took all of his willpower not to caress her thick locks. She’d been wearing it this way a lot lately, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he was thinking about it now.
A week ago, when he’d caught her from falling from the buggy, he’d experienced strange sensations moving inside his body. Why hadn’t he realized how soft she was, and how well she fit in his arms?
Groaning, Peter rubbed his forehead. If Malcolm had an inkling on what thoughts ran through Peter’s head, the older man would surely kill him. Best friends don’t think about the other’s daughter in that way.
However, she’d been looking at him differently, too. In fact, she’d become embarrassed when he’d caught her from falling from the buggy that one time. Although she’d tried to hide her face from him, he could still see her bright cheeks. That was the first time he noticed how shy she was around him. Did that mean she had the same confused feelings as he?
Perhaps it was time to arrange an hour or two in his hectic schedule and spend more time with her. He couldn’t let her know the reason why. Not yet, anyway. He’d have to figure out a good reason to spend time with her alone. She was a smart woman, and she’d figure out his intentions if he wasn’t crafty enough.
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