Sometimes, forgotten letters bring good news, sometimes they don’t.

Trixie bounded into the back room of Ingram’s Antiques, her curls in disarray and her messenger back sliding off her shoulder.   “Mrs. Ingram,” called out Trixie as the door slammed behind her, “sorry I’m late.  I got held up at the bank.”

Mrs. Ingram, a plump woman in her early sixties, rushed into the small, cluttered back room of the eclectic shop, alarm registering on her face and in her olive green eyes.  “Oh dear, you mean it was robbed?” she asked.  “Did they get a lot of money?”

“What?” asked Trixie, confused.  “What was robbed?  Did something happen here today?”

“No dear.  You said you got held up at the bank.  Was it robbed?”

Trixie started to laugh, but stopped herself.  “No Mrs. Ingram. I meant it took me a long time at the bank.    I wanted to make my last car payment in person, but the line was really slow.  I guess I shouldn’t have tried to do it during the lunch rush.”

“Oh well, que sera, sera!”

Trixie looked at her employer. “ Huh? What does that mean?”

“‘Que sera, sera, Whatever will be, will be.’  Surely you know that song?”

Trixie shook her head.  

Mrs. Ingram smiled at Trixie, thankful that she had hired the young energetic woman who brought so much life into the shop.  Ingram’s Antiques had opened up in Sleepyside a year earlier and had become an instant hit with both the locals and the tourists.   The shop’s colorful  mixture of original and refurbished antiques, as well as a bright disco ball that hung in the front window, drew people in.   The outgoing personalities of both Imogene Ingram and Trixie also attracted customers to the shop, adding to the popularity of the establishment.     Despite her many protests, Trixie really did know quite a bit about the artifacts and treasures that found their way into the shop.    “You know, Trixie,”  Mrs. Ingram continued as she watched her assistant stash her bag in the corner and tie on an apron,   “I found out today that the shop next door is closing.  What would you say if I rented it, broke down the wall between that shop and mine, and opened up a small restaurant?  Of course, I would want  it to have the best food in town.   Maybe I could even add some local wines.”  Trixie froze as she suddenly envisioned herself spilling food all over the customers.  

“Uh, I don’t know, Mrs. Ingram.  Do you think we would be able to do both?” she asked, hoping that Mrs. Ingram would abandon the idea.

“Oh no, dear.  I don’t have the time to run it and neither do you.  I would bring in someone else for that.”

Trixie sighed  loudly.  “Ooh. Good idea!  A lot of weekend customers travel a long way to get here.  If we had a place where they could grab a nice lunch or an afternoon snack, that would really make this shop a perfectly perfect one-stop shop.”

Imogene thought for a moment then nodded.  “Good.  I thought you might agree.  I’ll get right to work on that.  Now, besides the bank hold-up, how was your morning?”

“It was okay. But  I have to write a 500 word essay for my literature class about a day or event that starts out one way then takes a sharp right.”

“A sharp right?”  Imogene was confused.

“You know, when you think you’re moving in one direction and then all of a sudden, you’re moving in a different direction.  I hate having to write papers like this.  I call this a ‘groper’ paper’.  And I really need a good grade on this essay because I didn’t do well on my last paper.”

“A ‘groper’ paper?” Imogene was still trying to keep up.

“Yeh, a paper where I have to grope around in my brain to come up with an idea that might work.  Why can’t they give me an assignment that is called Write What You Ate for Breakfast?  I could do that one in a snap.”

“Ahh, I see.”  Suddenly Imogene’s confusion cleared.  “Well, there you go.  I bet when you walked in the door today, you had no idea that we would be thinking of expanding our business.  You can write about that.”

Trixie laughed.  “True! True!  But I don’t think it would make a very interesting paper, not that it’s not a great idea.”

“Oh, I suppose not.  What about the adventures you had as a little girl.”

Trixie  grinned at the thought of her parents calling her narrow escapes “little adventures”.  Trixie had already considered some of her more interesting escapades, but had rejected them.  “Most people have already heard about those adventures.   And it’s supposed to be something more normal, more mundane.”  She shrugged.  “I’ll have to think about this really hard.  Maybe something will come to me as I work.  Speaking of which, do you want to take a break while I go out front?”

“Oh Trixie, that would be heavenly.”  Trixie watched as Imogene went over to her desk chair and dropped down heavily.  “Sometimes, I think my feet are crying real tears because they hurt so much from me standing on them. I would love to prop them up on this desk, but that wouldn’t be a good idea, would it?”

Trixie noticed the old cherry desk where Imogene was sitting.   It had a classic structure, with rows of drawers down either side.  Despite its age, the desk maintained a deep, glossy shine, with just a few nicks and scratches, which only added to its character. “Hey, where did that desk come from?”  asked Trixie.   She walked behind Imogene so she could examine it more closely.   “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?  A woman from Croton had it brought here. She said she was downsizing and no longer had a use for it. She also brought in a box of junk with the desk.  She said the items had been in the drawers and she didn’t know if they had any value.”  Imogene watched as Trixie carefully eyed the desk.  “My dear, you seem to like it.  Are you thinking of buying it?”

Trixie looked up at Imogene, a faint smile on her face.  “Maybe.  Tad was complaining about the “cookie cutter” desk he has at the community center and how he wanted something sturdy and solid, with a little more character. This just might fit the bill.”  Trixie hesitated.  “Do you think you could save it for me?”

“Of course.  In fact, you can have it it for what it cost me.   It’s a beautiful piece of furniture and well cared for, but I would love to see you or Tad take it.”  Imogene leaned back in her chair.  “Oh you poor babies,” she crooned to her feet.  “I bet you would be happy if I lost about fifty pounds, huh?”

Oh Mrs. Ingram, you’re perfect the way you are,”  chirped Trixie.

“Tsk! Tsk! Remember, I asked you to call me Imogene, dear.”

“Oops, I keep forgetting.  Well, Imogene, I hope you and your feet enjoy your break. ”  Trixie turned and left the back room, leaving Imogene sitting in her chair with her legs sticking out in front of her and her feet making circles in the air.

“I’ll’ be out in a bit,” Imogene said as she pulled over the trash can and propped her feet upon the side of it.   Reaching across her desk, Imogene inched her lunchbox toward her, intent on giving herself a well deserved treat.

**********

Fifteen minutes later, Trixie looked up as Imogene reappeared.   “Feeling better?” Trixie asked?

“Oh my dear, I feel so much better.  I thank you for giving me a break, but my feet thank you more.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” replied Trixie saucily.

“Trixie, I do have a task for you this afternoon.  I  hope it won’t be too much for you.”

Trixie looked at Mrs. Ingram expectantly.  “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.  What do you need me to do?”

“See those boxes over there.”  Imogene pointed to several dusty and bulging boxes that were stacked haphazardly against the wall.

Trixie nodded.

“The high school sent those over.   They’re full of old textbooks.  I need you to go through them to see if we can use any of the them.  I know it won’t be a very fun task, dearie, but think of it as a way you can relive your glorious high school days.  And don’t worry about how long it takes you.”

Trixie looked at the boxes, grimacing.  “Glorious high school days?  Only in a parallel universe!”    She walked over to the pile of boxes and studied them.   “Sure, Imogene, I’ll go through these boxes for you.” Trixie called over her shoulder.   “ But I bet we won’t find much use for these books.”

“You never can tell.” said Imogene as she left Trixie and went to attend to some customers who were wandering around the shop.

 As Trixie looked over the boxes, she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket.  She quickly pulled it out and read the text message from Tad.

“Thanks for a great lunch.  Wanna do dinner??? 

Trixie grinned and punched in her reply, “Absolutely!  And I have a surprise for you.”  Trixie slid the phone back into her pocket and returned her attention to the  boxes.  Before she could begin unpacking them,   Trixie heard the bell that hung over the door tinkle softly, indicating the arrival of another customer.  Two women strolled through the door and immediately began perusing the aisles.  Trixie called out to the women, “If you need any help or have any questions,  just let me know.  I’ll be right over here unpacking these boxes.”

The women nodded at Trixie and then continued fawning over the merchandise.  A few minutes later, Trixie heard one woman call out, “Oh Miss, could you help me with something?”

Trixie  went and found the women looking at an old laptop desk.  Trixie smiled when she saw it, remembering a similar one that she had taken care of years earlier when she and the Bob-Whites had staged an antique show to raise money for UNICEF.

“What can you tell me about this old desk?” asked the woman.

Trixie explained the history of the desk and  its uses.  Impressed with Trixie’s knowledge and friendly demeanor, the customer decided that she simply had to have the desk and asked Trixie to keep it at the counter while she continued to explore the store. Trixie carried the antique desk up front and carefully placed it aside.

“Trixie,” Imogene called out, standing in front of an old oak bookcase.   “How are those books coming.  I was thinking we could display some of them here.”  Trixie walked over and stood next to Imogene and tried to visualize how the books would look displayed in the older piece of furniture.

“I don’t know about that, Imogene.  I  honestly can’t imagine anybody wanting to buy old high school textbooks.”

“You never can tell about these things.  There may be somebody out there who actually collects things like that.”

Trixie looked doubtfully at the bookcase in front of her.  “Maybe,” she said slowly,   “you could add some other school items that we have around here.  Take those globes over there.”  Trixie pointed to three old globes that were displayed at the end of the aisle.  “We could add those to the bookshelf which would make the display more interesting.  And we have those old metal ‘Superman’ and ‘Zorro’  lunchboxes that we could also put here.”

“Oh Trixie, that would make a lovely presentation.  I just know that you must have loved your school days.”

Trixie wrinkled her nose at her boss. “That might be overstating it, Imogene.  But there were definitely parts of it that I liked better than others.”

“And what were those parts?”

“Lunch and recess.” answered Trixie quickly.

Imogene looked startled for a moment, then burst out laughing.  “Well dear, if it isn’t too traumatic for you, I would appreciate you sorting through those books.”

“I’ll get right on it,” replied Trixie cheerfully, although she was groaning inwardly at the thought of sorting through old high school textbooks.   Returning to the other side of the store, Trixie looked at the bulging boxes of books, unsure how to proceed.  Shrugging, she decided to just get it over with and tore open the nearest box.  “Oh no,” Trixie shuddered, spotting an algebra book sitting on top.  “I hope that is the only math book that I see.”   She began pulling out armfuls of books and stacking them on the floor.  When the first box was empty, she slid a second one over and soon had all those books piled up in front of her.  Trixie slid over a third box and began pulling out the books.  As she piled them up, she realized that her stacks of books were too high and were beginning to sway.  Trixie quickly grabbed at several stacks, but in her haste she tripped and all the piles of books scattered around her.  

“Gleeps!” Trixie cried out.

“Trixie, are you all right?” Imogene called out.

“I’m fine,” Trixie answered as she looked at the mass of books scattered around her feet.  “I can’t believe these  books are still giving me grief,” she sighed as she began to gather them up and stack them nearby, being careful to keep the piles short.    As Trixie was picking up the last book,  a folded piece of paper slipped out of it and fluttered  to the floor.  “What’s this?” she wondered.  Trixie sat back on her heels  and opened the piece of paper.  Her eyes grew wide as she read the note that had  been left in the textbook.

                           Please forgive me.  That’s all I ask of you.     Know that I love

                            you and don’t want you to suffer.  But I cannot go on.  I have failed you

                            and don’t want to do that anymore.  This hole is too deep to climb      

                            out of.   I accept that  I no longer have a place in this world.     But

                            I know we will meet again, in another time, where our pain and

                          struggles will be behind us.  I love you. 

“Oh my gosh,” Trixie whispered as she stared at the paper she held in her hand.  “Is this a suicide note?”   Trixie examined the note closely.  The writing was perfectly lettered, and the lines across the plain, white paper were straight.  Trixie turned it over, but found that the note was without a signature.   “ Who wrote it and what happened to that person? Did they actually go through with it?”    Trixie frantically tried  to remember if any recent graduates from Sleepyside High School  had passed away,  but she couldn’t think of  any.  She was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to hear Imogene walk up behind her.

“Trixie, how’s it going?” Imogene asked,  walking over to where the books were stacked up against the wall.  

Trixie shoved the note into her back pocket and scrambled to her feet.  “I’m sorry, Imogene.  What did you say?” stammered Trixie.

“Are you alright, dear?” Imogene asked.  “You look kinda funny.”

“Huh? No, I’m fine.  Do you need my help with something?’

“Yes, there is a  woman who wants to talk to you about that little lap desk.”

“Okay”   Gently fingering the suicide note in her pocket, Trixie followed Imogene to the other side of the store. She did her best to assist the customers, but found that her mind kept going back to the note stashed in her pocket.  When the tinkling bell announced the customers’ departure, Trixie hurried over to the wall and surveyed the mounds of  high school texts.   Scowling,  Trixie wagged her index finger at the well worn books.   “Well, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have any of you books in my shop.  You should all go live in the dumpster out back.”

“What did you say, dear?” Imogene queried, walking up behind her gesturing employee.

Trixie jumped and spun around.   “Uh, I’m not sure, but I don’t think these books will have a lot of value for the clients who come into this shop.”

Imogene smiled at the determination on Trixie’s face.   “Oh my dear, I heard what you wanted to do with them. And I’m afraid you might be right and there won’t be any demand for them in my shop.  But I also hate the thought of throwing them away.  Do you have any ideas?”

Trixie shook her head.  “Let’s just leave them here and deal with them tomorrow.  But, if you don’t mind, I would like to take this book.” Trixie reached for the book that had held the suicide note.

“Oh, is that something that will help you with that essay you have to write or is that a book that holds fond memories for you?” Imogene asked.

Trixie gave Imogene a blank look.   “What essay?”

“Really Trixie!  The one you have to write where the day ends differently than it starts or something like that.”

“Oh, that essay.” Trixie looked at the book in her hand.  “Maybe.  But I do have to research something and this book can definitely help me with that.”

“Take it, then.  You have certainly earned it.  Let’s finish closing up the shop and then I believe you have a dinner date with that yummy man of yours.”

Trixie blushed, unsure how Imogene knew of her plans with Tad, and quickly walked away while mumbling about turning off the lights.  Tucking the book under her arm, Trixie went to the front of the store to begin the nightly closing procedures.   While Trixie counted out the money and the credit card receipts, the contents of the note danced through her mind, taunting her to find out who wrote it.   A half hour later, a weary Trixie exited Ingram’s Antiques, intent on filling her empty stomach with a hot, cheesy pizza.

***********

Trixie inhaled the delicious smells of the pizza and took a quick sip of her fruit filled sangria.  Tad watched Trixie fidget in her seat and then fuss with the silverware and napkins on the table.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Well, what?”

“You said you had a surprise for me.  Did you forget about it or is there something else going on in your head?”

“Yeh,” Trixie answered slowly.  “Something weird happened at work today.”  

“Let me guess.  You found an old lamp and when you polished it, a genie appeared and offered you three wishes.”

Grinning, Trixie ran her hand through her tangled curls.  “Nope.  My hair’s still curly so I guess no genie granted me that wish. I bet I still have freckles too.”

“And I’m glad you do.” Tad leaned over and kissed Trixie’s lips.  “So, what happened at work today?  Did you find a mystery in some old antique?”

Trixie’s head popped up and she looked into the face of her boyfriend.  “As a matter of fact,  I did.”

“What’d you find?”

Trixie pulled the note out of her pocket and slid it across the table to Tad.  He opened the note and read it, whistling when he got to the end of it.  “Where did you find this?”

“I found it in a history book from Sleepyside High.”

Tad’s furrowed brows indicated his puzzlement at Trixie’s explanation. “Um, I might need a few more details, Trix, assuming, of course, that you haven’t returned to the hallowed halls of our beloved high school.”

Trixie smiled.  “Gleeps! I guess I forgot to fill in all the pieces.   See, the high school decided to send over boxes of old textbooks, thinking that Imogene might want to sell them.  She told me to sort through them.  She thought I could relive my ‘glorious high school days’,” Trixie said, making air quotes with her fingers.    “I wonder what those are?  Anyway, this note fell out of a history book. Do you think it is a real suicide note?  And if it is, do you realize that there’s a distinct possibility  we know whoever wrote this note?”  Trixie paused, her brow furrowed.  “ But who could have been so unhappy that he or she wanted to kill themselves?  And how did we not know it?” Trixie took the note and put it back in her pocket.  Tad stared at the beer in his hands, thinking about his fellow high school students.  

“I can’t think of anybody who seemed so unhappy to the point of suicide,” said Tad.

“Me neither.  So, what happened?  Did they do the dirty deed or not?  Or maybe they got help and resolved their problems.”

“Yep Belden, you found yourself a mystery, that’s for sure.”

“I really want to figure out who wrote this note and what happened.”  Trixie stared silently at the table, her mind focused intently on the suicide note.  

“If you had the book, we could look to see if there is a name in it,” suggested Tad.

“Wait, I do have it.”  Trixie pulled the old textbook out of her messenger bag and put it on the table.   Tad spun the book around and opened the front cover.  “Hmmm, I was hoping that the book’s owners list would still be in here.  But I can see that it was torn out.”

“That was the first thing I checked too.   Oh well,” Trixie shrugged her shoulders, then moved around the table to sit next to Tad.  “Maybe there’s another clue in here somewhere.”   The two bent their heads down and began leafing through the book, checking each page for any markings  that might lead them to the name of the student who had had possession of the book and who may have authored the note.  They looked up as a hot pizza was placed in the table in front of them.  Setting the book aside,  Trixie and Tad each took a piece of the gooey, cheesy concoction.

“Ooh, Hot! Hot!” gasped Trixie as she grabbed her glass of water and took a quick sip.  Tad managed to get a small piece of the pie into his mouth.  They continued to pick at their pizza until it was cool enough to eat.  After they had each eaten several pieces, they turned their attention back to the history book.  

“Where were we?” asked Trixie as she flipped the book open.  

“I think we were up to the Civil War.” said Tad as he wiped his fingers on a napkin and took a long drink of his beer.  

Trixie turned to the chapter that discussed the ravages of the Civil War on the country.  Sitting side by side, Trixie and Tad flipped through the pages, carefully scanning them.  Tad froze when he found a  familiar notation along the margin.  

“What?” demanded Trixie, craning her neck so she could see the page clearly.

Tad pointed to the notation on the page.  Her eyes widened as she looked up at Tad.  “That’s my phone number,” she whispered.  “But why is it written in this book?”

“Somebody must have wanted to call you.  Think, Belden.  Do you remember giving your phone number to someone in your history class, or any other class?”

Trixie sat back in her chair.  She grabbed her sangria and took a sip, trying to recall a time during her high school days that somebody had wanted her phone number.   “It certainly wasn’t somebody who wanted to date me, because those people didn’t exist,” she mumbled.

Tad leaned in to Trixie.   “Let’s get one thing straight.  A lot of guys wanted to date you in high school.  They all thought you were dating Jim Frayne.  And from the way he acted, they thought you two were practically married.”

Trixie sighed.  “I keep telling you,  we only went to dances together.  We weren’t really dating when I was in high school.   We did try dating the summer after high school, but that was it.”

“Well, he didn’t want anybody else to date you, or to even talk to you,  that’s for sure.”

“Very funny!  Are you saying you would have asked me out?” Trixie teased.

“Of course, along with lots of other guys.”

Trixie snorted in disbelief.

“Seriously Belden.  There were guys who wanted to ask you out.”

Trixie dropped her piece of pizza onto her plate.  “Nick Roberts,” she said suddenly.

“Sure, he probably wanted to ask you out too.” replied Tad, taking a sip of his beer.

“No, I mean Nick Roberts and I had to do a project for history.  I remember he wanted my cellphone number and then he wrote it in his book.  And look,”  Trixie leaned forward and pulled the note out of her back pocket.   “The handwriting  matches.  Nick always had perfect lettering, just like the lettering in the note.”  She looked up at Tad, her eyes wide and puzzled.  “Did Nick really write this note?’” she wondered.

Tad shrugged his shoulders.  “Why were you two doing a project together?”

Trixie took another piece of pizza and chewed it slowly, trying  to remember the details of  a required  class she had taken about four years earlier.  “The entire class had to break into groups of two or three and do a powerpoint presentation.    Everybody got into groups with their friends.”

“Didn’t you have any friends in the class who wanted to work with you?” Tad asked, surprised.

Trixie shrugged.  “I didn’t really notice or care at the time.  This was the spring of my senior year and I had finally decided that I would be just be going to the community college.  I didn’t want to be around kids who were carrying on about what college they would be going to.  So I guess I didn’t see any point in getting into any kind of a work group with any of them.”

“Trixie, did you ever notice that not everybody went away to college?” Tad asked, placing his piece of pizza on his plate.

“You did,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but I had a sports scholarship. I couldn’t have gone away without some major financial help.  But, go on with your story.  Why didn’t you want to work with anybody else?”

Trixie shrugged  “At the time, all I could see was that Diana and Honey were going off and I wasn’t.  Being a graduating senior, I was supposed to be so happy, but I was really miserable and I just didn’t want to hear about other kids’ college choices.”  Trixie finished her piece of pizza and took a sip of her sangria.  “Anyway, everybody in class had already formed  groups.  I looked around and noticed that Nick was sitting alone at his desk.  He wasn’t in a group either.  So, I asked him if he wouldn’t mind  working with me.  We became partners by default.    I put in his cell number in my phone right away, but he didn’t have his phone with him so he wrote my number down.”   Trixie shook her head.  “I can’t believe that Nick wrote this note.  I just can’t believe it.”

“Why not?” asked Tad softly.

“Because I would have known if he was that unhappy.”

“Trixie,” Tad pointed out.  “When people don’t want you to know how they feel, or what deep, dark secrets they are carrying, then you won’t know.”

“Well, if the author of the note is Nick, then he never carried out his plan because he is still here.  In fact, I saw him the other day when he walked by Ingram’s on his way to his own shop.  His art work, plus his business of creating graduation pictures and videos is really taking off.”

“What are you going to do with the note?” asked Tad.

“I don’t know.  A really big part of me wants to know if he did write it and what happened to make him want to end his own life.  And how did those feelings change?”

“And the other part?” prodded Tad.

“The other part says I should just leave it alone.”

“Which means,” said Tad knowingly, “that somehow you will have a conversation with Nick and find out the truth behind the suicide note.”

Trixie shrugged, not sure whether she wanted to talk with Nick about the note.  

“One thing you need to consider is that Nick might not be too pleased to have unhappy memories brought up again,” cautioned Tad. ”So you might want to tread carefully.”

“I know,” said Trixie quietly.  Taking a sip of her sangria, Trixie sat the glass down on the table with a loud thump.   “So,” she smirked.  “you wanted to ask me out in high school?”

Tad rolled his eyes, then grinned.  “Sure Belden.  What better way to needle my brother and Molinson?”

“Too bad you didn’t,” snipped Trixie.

“Why?”

“Because now we will never know what my answer would have been,”  giggled Trixie as Tad slid another piece of pizza off the tray and onto his plate.  Trixie took the history book  and placed it back into her messenger bag.

“Hey,” said Tad.  “You said you had a surprise for me.  Was the note the surprise?”

Trixie looked at Tad, a puzzled expression on her face and a slice of pizza poised at her lips.  “Oh yeh, I forgot.  Somebody brought in a beautiful, cherry desk for us to sell.  I don’t know why, but I thought of you the minute I saw it.  Remember you said you didn’t like the desk they gave you at the Community Center.  Maybe you could use this desk instead.”

Tad swallowed his bite of pizza.  “Maybe.  I’ll stop by tomorrow and take a look at it.  But will it cost a lot? Those antiques can be expensive.”

Trixie shook her head.  “Imogene is happy to give it to you or me at cost.   The lady who sold it to us also brought in a box of junk, but I haven’t had a chance to go through that it yet.  Hey,  maybe Imogene’ll throw that in with the desk,”  Trixie suggested, a dimpled grin spreading across her face.

“Hmmm...the desk sounds interesting.  The box of junk doesn’t.  But I’ll check it out.  Thanks Trixie.”

“My pleasure.  We aim to please.”

Tad raised one eyebrow at Trixie as he took another bite of his pizza.  “Really?  Let’s make sure to pursue that aim after dinner,” he winked.   The remainder of the delicious pizza disappeared as the two spent the rest of the meal discussing their day.

The next day, the suicide note still weighed heavily on Trixie’s mind.   Coming into the antique shop after her morning classes, she sighed as she once again debated with herself the potential conversation with Nick.   As she left the cluttered back room, she noticed that Imogene was standing off to one side, discussing a purchase with a middle-aged woman.  Trixie went to the front of the store and began straightening a few shelves.  The customer decided on her purchase and left, leaving only Trixie and Imogene alone in the store.  

“Hello Trixie,” greeted Imogene.  “You seem rather quiet today, dear.”

“Hi Imogene.  How can you tell if I’m quiet or not?  You’ve been busy with a customer.”

“You’re missing that “Trixie”  bounce in your step.  Is something on your mind?”

“I guess I’m still trying to figure out what I am going to write about,” answered Trixie untruthfully.  The fact was that she had forgotten about her paper, instead focusing all her thoughts on Nick and the note.  

“Well dearie, I am sure that brilliant mind of yours will come up with an idea at any moment. Did you notice that those stacks of textbooks are gone?”

Trixie’s eyes widened. “They are gone. What did you do with them, Imogene?”

“A woman who owns an interior decorating company wanted all of them.  She said she likes to use old textbooks for certain projects, like making shelves, wreaths, and tables.   The way she described it sounded very interesting.  I asked her if she would be interested in selling some of her creations in my shop and she is going to bring some of them in.  So my dear, the next time you see those old books, you might not even recognize them.”

“That would be fine with me.  But it will be neat to see what she does with them.  I’m glad that problem is resolved,” said a relieved Trixie.

“Agree. Now if you don’t mind, I think I will eat my lunch.”  Imogene sighed.  “This is when having an in- house sandwich shop would come in handy.  But since it doesn’t exist, at least not yet, then I’m forced to go eat my own homemade peanut butter and sweet gherkins sandwich.”  Imogene turned and walked toward the back room.  Trixie shuddered at the description  of Imogene’s lunch,  relieved that she had never had the pleasure of eating such a concoction.

 “She needs to taste a Crabapple Farm special,”   Trixie decided as she busied herself around the shop, while thinking of the thick peanut butter and crabapple jelly sandwiches that were a specialty around her family home.

“Trixie dear,” said Imogene later,  “it’s nearly two-thirty.  Why don’t you take a lunch break?”

Trixie acquiesced, planning on grabbing a bite in the back room, but then saw Nick Roberts strolling past the window of Ingram’s Antiques, a bag of take-out food in one hand and a Coke in the other.  

“That’s a great idea,” Trixie answered as she dashed into the back room, grabbed the snack she had packed for herself and bolted out the front door in pursuit of Nick.  

“Hmmm...she must be really hungry,” remarked Imogene as she watched the rapidly disappearing back of her young employee racing along the sidewalk.

Outside of Ingram’s Antiques, Trixie hurried along the sunlit, picturesque street while searching the sidewalks for Nick.  Spotting him ahead of her near the entrance to the Sleepyside Metro Park, Trixie broke into a run.    Upon entering the park, she paused briefly and looked around and  saw Nick settling himself on a bench near a splashing fountain.    Taking a deep breath, Trixie dashed over to the bench.   “Hi Nick, mind if I join you?”

“Are you okay,” asked Nick concerned, as he noted the heavy breathing of his friend.

“Oh yeah, I just ran to get here.”

“Why?” asked Nick.

Realizing she didn’t have an answer to that question, Trixie just shrugged and plopped herself down on the bench next to Nick.  She opened her bag and pulled out an apple and a granola bar.  “So Nick, how’s everything going?” she asked.

“Pretty good.  How do like working at Ingram’s Antiques?”

“It’s interesting and I really like Imogene.  She’s now planning to rent the empty shop next door and make it into upscale sandwich shop that will connect to the antique store.”

Nick looked toward the street where the shop was located.  “That would make a really good addition.  I would love to have something like that nearby.  As much as I love Wimpy’s, a change is sometimes good.”

“I think so too,” answered Trixie as she took a bite out of her apple.  

The two sat, munching their food, basking in the mid-afternoon sunshine.

“So,”  questioned Nick, glancing at the blond seated next to him, “Did you want to talk to me about something?”  

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, it appears that you ran like crazy to get to this park and then you wanted to eat with me.  So, what’s up?’

Trixie chewed the apple in her mouth, unsure of what to say next.  She knew tact was not  one of her strong assets and she didn’t want to offend Nick..  

“Spit it out, Trixie. You and I have been friends for a long time.  Whatever you need, I’m sure I can be of help,” offered the young man.

Trixie finished chewing and swallowed her bite of apple.  Putting the core down on her lunch bag, she leaned forward and pulled the suicide note out of her pocket.  “I wanted to ask you about this,” she said quietly.

Nick looked at the paper that Trixie held in her hand, the color draining out of his face. “Where did you get that?”

“Ingram’s Antiques got a bunch of old textbooks from Sleepyside High.   Imogene wanted me to sort through them. I found this in a history book.”

“Why do you think it belongs to me?” he asked.

“Tad and I,” Trixie stopped abruptly, realizing that she had just let it slip that she had discussed the note with another person.  Figuring she had already firmly placed her foot in her mouth, she continued.  “Tad and I were flipping through the book that the note was in.   There was no name in the front so we were looking for any other clues. That’s when we found my cell phone number on one of the pages.  It took me a while but then I remembered that history project we had to work on at the end of our senior year.  You did write my number in the book, right?”  Trixie looked into Nick’s face.

Nick remained silent for a  moment.  He exhaled and then said quietly, “Yes.”

“And you wrote the note?” Trixie asked gently.

Nick stared across the park, his jaw tightly clenched.  

“Nick?” Trixie whispered.

Nick’s head snapped around and angry eyes bored into Trixie.  “I know you’re a great detective and you’ve helped a lot of people, including me.  But sometimes, Trixie, you need to leave things alone.”  Nick rose and angrily strode out of the park, leaving Trixie sitting in stunned silence on the bench.  

“Gleeps, now I’ve done it,” she muttered.  Trixie gathered up her trash and  the remains of Nick’s lunch, shoved them into her own lunch bag,  then slammed the  sack into a nearby trash can.  With a sad glance at the empty bench, Trixie slowly left the park and went back to the antique store.

The rest of the afternoon seemed to drag by for Trixie.  All she wanted to do was go home and shut herself in her room.  “Will I ever learn to stop prying into people’s lives,” she wondered.  Her thoughts were interrupted by the tinkling of the bell.  Trixie heard the familiar voice of Tad as he greeted Imogene.  

“Trixie!  Trixie!” called out Imogene.  “your yummy young man is here.”

Trixie hurried up to Tad, rolling her eyes as she caught the amused look on his face.  “Do you want to show me that desk, Trixie?” he asked.

“Sure.  It’s in the back.  Come on.”  Trixie grabbed Tad’s arm and pulled him down an aisle that was neatly lined with antique china, towards the back room.  “There it is,” she pointed to it as they stood in the doorway.  “What do you think?”

Tad walked over to the desk and ran his hand across the top of it.  He opened all the drawers and peered inside of them.  Trixie stood by, impatiently tapping her foot and wondering how much inspection a desk could require.  Finally, Tad turned around and looked at Trixie, a smile on his face.  “You’re right. I do like this desk and I think it would work really well in my little office.  How much is it?”

Trixie shrugged her shoulders.  “The way Imogene likes you, I think all you have to do is smile and wink at her and she would give you anything you wanted.”

“What’s wrong, Trixie?” Tad asked, realizing that Trixie’s response was not in her usual manner.

“I don’t want to talk about it here.  In fact, I don’t want to talk about it at all.  I’ll go find Imogene and see how much she wants for the desk.”  Trixie abruptly left the back room, leaving Tad standing alone.  Spying a box of junk that was stashed under the desk, Tad dragged it out and began pawing through it.  He  pulled out yellowed magazine and newspaper clippings that contained old sports scores. After quickly reading them, he dismissed them.   He continued to rifle through the box until he found a bulky package, protected by many layers of old newspapers,  at the bottom.  Unwrapping it, he discovered an old pair of binoculars, with a missing lens and a cracked and faded neckstrap.  “Hmmm,  I wonder why somebody kept these?” he muttered.  Hearing Trixie and Imogene coming toward the back room, Tad piled the stuff back in the box and shoved it aside.

“Oh Tad, I’m so glad you want the desk.  I bet you’ll look so professional sitting at it,” Imogene gushed.

“I think it will work in my office.  How much is it, Mrs. Ingram?”

“Tsk, tsk, Tad. It’s ‘Imogene’.”

Tad smiled, setting the woman’s heart to beating quicker.  “Okay, Imogene.  How much is the desk?”

“I want to give it to you at cost, which is fifty dollars?” she answered.

“Fifty dollars!  Is that all?  Surely you want more for this desk.”

“No, fifty dollars is all I’m willing to take.  So, do you want it?”

“Absolutely.  Can I pick it up tomorrow?”

“That would be fine, Tad.  Now why don’t you take your rather grumpy girlfriend out to dinner.  Maybe a hot meal will cheer her up.”

Tad nodded, then frowned as Imogene left the room.  It was unusual for Trixie to be grumpy and he realized he was curious to find out what was going on with her.   Maybe over dinner she would confide in him.  Tad wandered out of the back room and waited while Imogene and Trixie prepared to close up the shop for the day.  

“Have a good evening,” bade Imogene as Trixie and Tad went to their cars.  

“Bye Imogene,” said Tad.  “Thanks for letting me buy that desk.”

“Oh Tad,” giggled Imogene.  “I’m happy to know that I could help you.”

In the deepening twilight, Trixie shook her head while she unlocked her car door.  “Did that woman just giggle at you?  Honestly, she is so crazy sometimes. Did you know that she has developed a passion for old rhinestone jewelry and loves wearing several pins on her blouse and apron?   If she’s not careful, she’s going to wind up looking like her beloved disco ball. ”

“Come on Trixie, I know you don’t mean that. I think Imogene’s pretty cool and a lot of fun.  It’s obvious that she likes you and  I think you’re lucky to work for her,” said Tad, walking up behind Trixie and sliding his arms around her.   “You and Imogene make a great team.”  He kissed Trixie’s neck softly.  “ I think you need to eat so let’s go grab a quick bite.  I know you have homework so I won’t keep you out.”

Trixie sighed softly.  “Okay.  Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s just hit Wimpy’s,” Tad suggested.

Agreeing with Tad’s suggestion, Trixie and Tad drove their cars to the diner.  Tad steered Trixie to a corner booth.  After placing their orders, Tad shoved the the silverware and placemats aside and grabbed Trixie’s hands.  “Okay, what’s up.  I know you are upset about something.”

Trixie grimaced, refusing to meet Tad’s gaze

“Come on, Belden.  What’s up?”

“Fine!” she exhaled loudly.  “I ran into Nick today and asked him about the note.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” replied Trixie hotly.

“Uh huh.  I take it he didn’t like your question?”

“That’s a slight understatement. He got really mad at me.”

“Tell me about it.”

Trixie recounted her meeting with Nick in the park and his angry reaction to her questions about the suicide note.  Tad noted that, as Trixie told the story, her shoulders sagged and her eyes rarely left the table.  The conversation ceased as their food was brought.  The rest of the meal was sprinkled with polite chit-chat, neither one wanting to return to Trixie’s conversation with Nick.  

“Trixie,” said Tad as the two left the diner and walked to their cars that were parked side-by-side.  

“What?” she answered.

“Come here.” Tad pulled Trixie into a tight embrace.  “I know you think Nick is upset with you and that you are even more upset with yourself.  Just give it a few days.  You and Nick have been friends for a long time.  I’m sure he just thought that nobody would ever find out about this.  You know how you feel when your worst moments are brought into light.  I  bet in a few days you and Nick will be fine.”

Trixie leaned into Tad’s warm embrace.  “Why do I do these things.  When am I going to learn to keep my mouth shut?”

Tad pulled her closer, running his hands up and down her back, massaging her tense muscles.  “It’ll be all right, trust me.  Now go home and try to work on your paper.  You’ve certainly collected enough material for it.”

Trixie stepped back from Tad.  “Are you suggesting that I write about finding the note.  I couldn’t do that.”

“No, that’s not what I am suggesting.  But I think you have a lot of material to write about. You’re just trying to make this paper a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

Trixie wiggled further into the warmth of Tad’s arms,  Closing her eyes tightly, she wished she could undo her earlier actions.  She hated knowing that she had upset Nick.

The two lingered a bit longer in the dark shadows of the parking lot of Wimpy’s Diner before parting reluctantly and getting into their own cars.  Tad watched as Trixie drove off down the empty street before turning his car toward his own home.  

***********

When Trixie entered the back room of the antique shop the next afternoon, the first thing she noticed was that the cherry desk was gone.   “Hey Imogene,” Trixie called out.  “Did Tad pick up the desk?”

“Why, yes he did,” answered Imogene as she came into the back room, smoothing her hair into place.  “He and a friend came by first thing this morning and picked it up.  But  I can’t remember the friend’s name.  Aiden?  Wayne?”  She shrugged.

Trixie laughed.  “I think you mean Ian.  We call him ‘Chef Ian’ because he’s in cooking school and always wants us to try some new dish that he has created. I’m glad he was able to help Tad move the desk.   Did everything go okay?”

“Oh my, yes.  Those two young men just hoisted that desk up and out it went.  They slid it into the back of a truck, covered it with a blanket, and left.  I asked Tad if he wanted the box of stuff that came in with the desk, but he said that it was just full of old papers and a pair of broken binoculars.”  Imogene shrugged.  “I guess I’ll have to sort through that box when I get the chance.  Anyway,  that Ian was also a nice man.  My dear, you have all the luck with handsome friends.”

Trixie rolled her eyes, grabbed her apron and got to work. She was eager to get through her shift and then run over to the community center and see how the new desk looked in Tad’s office.  After a slower than normal afternoon Trixie left the shop as the sun was beginning to go down.  Trixie walked through the big front doors of the community center and, seeing the door to Tad’s office open, popped into the small room.  She was surprised to see the same desk that Tad had always had.  

“Hey there,” said Tad as he came into his office.

Trixie spun around, surprise on her face. “Where’s the desk?” she demanded.

“What?  No ‘hi Tad’, or ‘glad to see you’ or ‘there’s my favorite man’?”

“Sure,” answered Trixie impatiently. “All the above.  Now, where’s the desk?  Imogene said you came and got it.  Didn’t it fit in here?”

Tad leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Trixie’s pursed lips.  “Yes, it would fit in here.  But as I loaded it into Ian’s truck, I realized that I would much rather have the desk at home.  My parents had a similar one in the the corner of the living room in our house.  I just thought that would be a better place for it.  So Ian and I took it over to the apartment and it does look perfect in the living room.  I didn’t have time to polish it up, though.”

Trixie exhaled.  “Whew!  I was afraid it didn’t fit or your boss wouldn’t allow you to bring it in here.  When do I get to see it in your living room?”

Tad smiled at Trixie’s usual impatience.  “Soon.  Do you think you can wait until I get off work in an hour or so?”

Trixie grinned.  “Well, if you insist.  Maybe while I wait I’ll just grab a quick workout.”

Trixie pulled out a bag of workout clothes that she kept stashed in a small cabinet in Tad’s office and went to the locker room to change while Tad bustled around the center, checking on the numerous activities in progress.  After changing, Trixie found an available treadmill in the fitness room and started on a vigorous run.  Following a quick shower in the locker room, Trixie met up with Tad, excited to go to his apartment and see how the desk looked.

“Are you hungry?” asked Trixie as the two walked to their cars.  “I can stop by the store and grab something quick for dinner.  If we’re really smart, we can get that cooking, and then check out the desk.”

“Why don’t you get some sushi.  That sounds really good to me tonight.”

“Consider it done,” replied Trixie as she started her car and wheeled out of the parking lot of the community center.  

Tad drove home and quickly changed.  He did a quick clean up of the apartment he shared with his brother, tossing dirty clothes into the hamper and old newspapers into the recycling bin.    The place looked presentable when he heard Trixie at the door, bearing a plastic tray of sushi.

“Here,” said Trixie.  “Let’s just put that in the refrigerator for a few minutes.  I’m dying to see that desk.”

Agreeing that the desk fit perfectly in the corner of the living room, they began checking it out, noting a few small scratches that they were sure they could  rub out.  They pulled out the drawers, making sure that they slid smoothly.  As Trixie replaced one of the top drawers, she noticed that it would not close tightly.  Taking it out, she peered  inside the desk.

“Hey Tad,” she said.  “there seems to be something jammed between the supports of these drawers.  I can’t quite get my fingers on it.  Can you?”

Tad put down the drawer he was examining and looked into the empty drawer slot where Trixie was pointing.  Crouching down, he reached into the opening and groped around a bit until he firmly grasped the object in question.  As he pulled it out, Trixie excitedly asked, “What is it?”

Tad laughed.  “It’s not a mystery. It looks like an old letter or something.”

Tad carried the letter over to the couch and dropped  it on the coffee table.  The two finished examining the desk, both satisfied that it was a solid piece of furniture.  Tad and Trixie went into the small kitchen and laid out the sushi  and fixed some drinks.  They took their plates into the living room, where they sat down on the couch.  Before Trixie could take a bite,  she spied the old letter sitting on the table in front of her.  Putting her plate aside, she picked up the letter, turning it over in her hands.  Her eyes widened when she saw the stamp and the postmark.

“Tad!” she exclaimed.  “this is a really old letter.  It was sent in the 1919.”

“Really?”  Tad laid down his plate and reached for the letter.  He examined the postmark marveling at its age.  “Do you want to open it or shall I?” he asked.

Trixie held up her hands.  “I’m dying of curiosity, but I think I have opened enough lost letters for the week.  This one is all yours.”

Tad peeled open the flap of the envelope and pulled out a letter.  He carefully unfolded the brittle paper and began reading it.  His eyes grew large when he got to the end of the letter.

“What?  What?” demanded Trixie.

‘I don’t believe this,” said Tad

“What?  What?  Tad, if you don’t tell me right now, then I will probably die on this couch and then Spider will have to arrest you for contributing to my death.”

Tad held out the letter to Trixie, who took it in her hands and began to quickly read it.

“...Your prompt and patriotic response to the NAVY’S call for binoculars, telescopes and spy-glasses is most appreciated.  The glasses will be very useful in the prosecution of Naval Operations until victory is won…”

Trixie continued reading, gasping when she got saw the signature at the bottom of the letter.   “Is this for real?” she asked, her voice full of awe.

“It seems to be.” nodded Tad.

“Holy cow!”  whispered Trixie.

“You can say that again.  I can’t believe this letter is signed by Franklin Delano Roosevelt.”

Trixie and Tad sat back  on the couch in stunned silence, looking at the letter and amazed at the piece of history they had pulled out of the old piece of furniture.

“What do you think we should do with this letter?” asked Tad.

Trixie shrugged.  “You bought the desk, so I guess you own the letter.”

Tad sat silent, thinking about what he should do with the letter.  “I think you should tell Imogene about this.  If I were her, I’d want it back.”

Trixie nodded.  “I’m off tomorrow but I’ll stop in and talk to her.”

“I think that’s a good idea.  And Trixie, if she wants it back, that’s fine with me.  She could probably sell it for a fair amount of money.”  Tad looked at the letter in his hand.  Then he carefully folded it up, slid it into the aged envelope, and placed it in the empty desk drawer.

*********

“Hey Imogene, where are you?” called out Trixie the next afternoon when she entered Ingram’s Antiques.

“Right here, dear.”  Imogene answered.  Puzzled, she looked at Trixie.  “You aren’t scheduled today dear.  Why are you here?  Oh wait, you didn’t come in to quit did you?  Although really, If you were to tell me that you were running off with your boyfriend then, honestly,  I wouldn’t  blame you one bit for quitting and following him.”

“Imogene!” exclaimed Trixie impatiently.  “Stop!  I am not quitting nor am I running off with Tad.  I just need to talk to you about the desk Tad bought.”

“Oh no.  He doesn’t like it?” questioned Imogene.

“He loves it.  But…” Trixie hesitated a bit,  “Well, you see Imogene, we found an old letter in one of the desk drawers.’

“But I checked all the drawers.  I didn’t see any letter.”

“It had fallen behind one of the drawers and had gotten lodged between the drawer supports.”

“I see,” said Imogene, wondering why the letter seemed so important to Trixie.  

“You do?” asked Trixie.

“No, not really,  What about the letter?” asked Imogene.

“Imogene, the letter was from the United States Government and it was dated March 23, 1919.  And get this, it was signed by FDR.”

Imogene’s mouth fell open and she stood stock still, staring at Trixie.  “Oh my.  Oh my.”

“Yeh Imogene.  It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”  Trixie suddenly looked toward the back room, her eyes lighting up.  “Oh gleeps!  The binoculars!” she cried out.

Imogene shook her head.  “Binoculars?” she asked.

“Yes!  Remember,  Tad went through the box of junk that was under the desk and that there was an old pair of binoculars in it.  Those binoculars must be the ones mentioned in the letter.”

“Whoa, Nellie!” cried out Imogene.  Taking Trixie by the arm, she led her toward the back room, leaving the shop in the care of the part time employee that was working that day.  After settling themselves in chairs, Imogene instructed Trixie to tell the whole story.  “And please dear, speak clearly and don’t use any ‘gleeps’ or kleeps’ or whatever word you like to use.”

Trixie looked at her employer.  “Okay, well you know that Tad picked up the desk yesterday.  He decided that he liked it so much that he would rather have it in his house instead of in his little office at the community center.   See, his parents had a similar desk in their living room and so Tad decided that’s where he wanted to put the desk.  Last night, when we were going through it and cleaning it up,  I found that one drawer wouldn’t shut tightly.  When I looked inside the desk cabinet I could see that something was lodged between the drawer supports.  Tad was able to get it out and it turned out to be an old letter.  When we opened it, we learned that it was a thank you letter from the United States government for the use of a pair of binoculars during World War I.  And listen Imogene, the letter was signed by the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, who just so happened to be FDR.  I’ll just bet that the old pair of binoculars that we found in that box of junk was the pair that the government sent along with the letter.  Didn’t you say that the woman brought in the desk and the stuff that she found in it?”

Imogene nodded, settling back in her chair.   “That I did.  Gracious! That is quite a tale, my dear.  I thank you for telling me.  Now, what is Tad going to do with the letter?”

Trixie shook her head.  “No Imogene.  We, I mean he, couldn’t possibly keep the letter.  You bought the desk and the letter is yours.”

“You’re wrong, dear.  Tad bought the desk and the letter is his.”

“Imogene, he couldn’t keep it.”  Trixie looked around the back room, panicked.  “What happened to that box of junk that was under the desk?”

“I know I saw it yesterday so it is still around here, safe and sound.   It must be mixed in with some other boxes.  Do you want me to find it for you?”

“No.  As long as I know it is safe, I think I can wait. ” said a relieved Trixie.  “But what should we do about the letter?”

“There’s nothing to do.  It belongs to Tad.  I cleaned out the desk.  I simply didn’t notice what my clever co-worker and her boyfriend did.  Although I would love to see the letter.”

“Of course,” answered Trixie quickly.  She sat quietly for a minute.  “Do you think we should contact the woman who sold us the desk and see if she wants the letter.  It probably belonged to somebody in her family.”

Imogene got up and sorted through a basket on her own desk.  Pulling out an invoice, she examined it, holding it out for Trixie to see.  “I bought that desk from a Nancy Ellis, who lives in Croton.  I have an address, but no phone number.”

Trixie copied down the address.  “I’m off today so maybe I’ll just run over to Croton, find this Nancy Ellis and offer her the letter.”

“Okay dear.  But I still think that Tad rightfully bought it.”

“I know.  I would love it if the woman would let Tad keep the letter.  His mother really liked FDR.  He was her favorite president.”  Trixie grabbed the paper with the address on it and stood.  “I’ll let you  know how it turns out.  See ya later, Imogene.”  Trixie hopped into her car, pausing long enough to enter the woman’s address into her mapquest on her phone.  When her phone announced the route, Trixie pulled away from the antique shop and headed towards Croton.

Tixie soon found herself pulling up in front of a quaint, two story red brick house.  The small front yard was well-kept, with an old magnolia tree shading the walk to the front door.  Trixie grabbed her bag and approached the door, her mind rehearsing what she was going to say to the woman.  Trixie rang the bell and waited.  The door opened and Trixie found herself face to face with an older woman, shorter than Trixie, who stared at her questioningly.  

“Yes?” the woman asked, keeping the storm door between them firmly shut.

“Are you Nancy Ellis?” asked Trixie.

“Yes,” the woman replied.

“My name is Trixie Belden.  I work at the antique store where you sold your cherry desk.  I found something inside the desk that may be of interest to you.”

“Oh?” questioned the woman.

“Yes.  But I would rather show you inside, if that’s all right.”

Mrs. Ellis hesitated a bit, then opened the door, allowing Trixie to enter  the vestibule.  She pointed to a round rug at their feet, “You can leave your shoes there,” she said.  Trixie quickly toed out of her shoes and followed the woman into the living room.  

“What did you want to show me?” Mrs. Ellis asked.   She waved her hand toward the couch, indicating that Trixie should have a seat.  Pushing aside the pile of hand-crocheted pillows,  Trixie sat down and carefully pulled the letter out of her messenger bag and silently handed it to Mrs. Ellis.  She watched as the woman lifted the flap of the old envelope and pulled out the letter.  Trixie saw the woman’s eyebrows arch up in surprise when she got to  the bottom of the letter.  

“You found this in that old cherry desk?” she asked.

Trixie nodded.  “We were checking it out and noticed that one of the drawers didn’t close tightly.  That’s when we found the letter stuck between some drawer supports.  We thought you would like this back.  I’m sure you have children or grandchildren who would love to have this.”

Mrs. Ellis Looked at Trixie thoughtfully, then shook her head.  “No, sadly enough, I don’t have any children or grandchildren.  And I’m not surprised that this letter was stuck behind one of the drawers.  My husband kept so much stuff that he had it everywhere.  It has taken me years to clean out his hobby room in the basement. “

“That sounds a bit like my closet at home.  My mother is always threatening to throw everything out, but I’m pretty sure she really won’t do that.”  Trixie smiled at the older woman, enjoying the moment with her.  Trixie watched as a sad smile crossed the woman’s face.  “Yes,” said Mrs. Ellis, “I had a son who kept a closet similar to yours.  But he’s gone too.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Ellis.”

“You were a sweet girl to bring this letter all the way over here. But it rightfully belongs to you since you bought the desk.  You did say that, right?”

“Well, technically, my boyfriend bought it.  He said it reminded him of one his parents had in the corner of their living room when he was growing up.  So after he bought it, that’s where he put it.  His parents died when he was a kid, so it’s nice that he has something that brings back some good memories for him.”

Nancy smiled at Trixie.  “Then, I think the letter belongs to him.”

“But it is such a valuable piece of history,” exclaimed Trixie.  

“Do you know the story behind this letter?” asked Nancy.

Trixie shook her head.  

“Let me tell you.  During World War I,  the government asked for binoculars, telescopes and the like so that citizens could be ‘the Eyes of the Navy.’    Thousands of citizens sent them in and they got paid one dollar for the use of them.  When the war was over, many of them got a pair of binoculars back although they weren’t the same ones that they had sent in.   I suppose there might be a ratty pair of binoculars around here someplace.  If there are, I haven’t found them yet.”

“You sent in a box of junk with the desk and there was an old pair of broken binoculars at the bottom of the it.”    

Mrs. Ellis pursed her lips.   “That’s right.  I just grabbed the contents of the drawers and tossed them into that box without really examining them.  I was just so happy to be getting rid of some of the stuff that is piled up around here.  See, my husband kept virtually everything that he touched,  including each and every scrap of paper.  I’m not surprised that the letter and the binoculars were stashed in a drawer.    However, because he kept everything,  cleaning it out becomes overwhelming.  I’m at the place where the more I can toss out, the happier I am.  Since I’m getting ready to move into a Senior Center, I have to get rid of almost everything.”

“How do you get rid of all these memories?” asked Trixie as she looked around the tidy living room with its walls covered in aged photographs, a nearby table full of small silver spoons, and a child’s chair piled with several old dolls.

Mrs. Ellis smiled.  “I’m not getting rid of the memories.  I still have them.  And the stuff will never be able to replace the memories that I carry in my heart.”

“But don’t you want to keep this letter?”

Mrs. Ellis shook her head.  “I have a feeling that the letter has landed with the right owner.  I think your young man will love having this letter hanging above his new desk.”

The two women chatted a bit more then Trixie stood to leave.  She grabbed a piece of paper from her bag and quickly scrawled her name on it.  “Here,” she said.  “If Mrs. Ingram or I can help you in any way, please let us know.”

Nancy took the paper.  “Thank you.  I know I will have some more antiques to get out of this house.  I’ll be happy to bring them to your shop.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Ellis.  If you have anything else you want to bring us, we’ll be happy to pick it up for you.”

Trixie slid her shoes back on her feet and left the old house.  Nancy stood at the door and  waved as Trixie got in her car and drove off down the road.  “Well,” she sighed.  “It’s too bad there aren’t more people like that young woman.  Imagine finding a letter and then tracking down the owner,” she said as she closed the front door.

Trixie drove back to Sleepyside, debating in her mind what she should  do with the letter.  As she drove down the Main Street and past Nick’s video and photography shop, she suddenly knew what she had to do.  Pulling into a parking spot, Trixie jumped out of her car, grabbed her messenger bag and entered the small shop.  From behind the counter, Nick looked up as she entered, a wariness registering on his face.  Trixie plopped down her bag and pulled out the letter.  Carefully opening the old envelope, she withdrew the letter and laid it on the counter.

“I would like to have this framed, Nick.  And, if possible, I would like it in a dark cherry frame with an appropriate mat behind it.  Just let me know when it’s done and I’ll come back and get it.”

Nick watched as Trixie picked up her bag and walked toward the front door.  He was surprised when she offered no further conversation or questions.  Before Nick could say anything, Trixie stopped, turned around, and looked him squarely in the eyes.  “I brought that letter to you because I wanted it with somebody I could trust,” she said as she opened the door and left as quickly as she had arrived.  Nick heard the door click shut then picked up the document.  His eyes widened when he saw the signature.  He carefully carried the letter into the back room, respecting Trixie’s trust in him, even though he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it.

Alone in her car, Trixie debated her next move. Should she go back to the antique store and tell Imogene about the visit with Nancy Ellis or should she brave the noise and activity level of the community center to tell Tad that the letter was his to keep.  Unable to make a decision, Trixie instead drove home to Crabapple Farm, leaving the specifics of the letter for another day.

**********

Trixie grabbed her ringing cell phone, glanced at the caller ID, and answered.  “Hey Tad.”

“Hey Gorgeous!” said her boyfriend.

Trixie rolled her eyes.  “Really Tad, this relationship will never last if you keep lying like that.”

Tad sighed.  No matter what, Trixie would never see the exciting, vibrant, young woman that he saw.   Shaking his head, Tad continued.  “So, what happened when you visited the lady who owned the desk?  Does she want the letter back?”

“No, she thinks that the letter should stay with the desk.”  Trixie waited for a response from Tad, but all she heard was silence.  “Tad? Tad? Are you there?”

“Yeh.  I just can’t believe she doesn’t want it back and that now it belongs to me.”

“I know.  But it is in a very safe place right now and I will get it back to you.  How’s work going today?”

Tad answered with a brief story of a youngster who forgot to put on his shorts when he was changing in the locker room and showed up for basketball practice wearing his  Incredible Hulk Underoos.  Trixie laughed, appreciating the way Tad told his stories.  The two chatted a bit longer, then Tad had to go.  Trixie was sorry to end the conversation but she also had some homework that desperately needed her attention.  The two made plans to get together for dinner the following night.  Once Trixie slid her phone back into the pocket of her jeans, she turned all of her attention to her schoolwork, and, in particular, her 500 word essay.  “I can’t believe the teacher referred to this assignment as writing a snippet.  That sounds so easy compared with a 500 word essay.” she snorted.   Looking at an old photo on her dresser, Trixie was suddenly filled with inspiration, opened her laptop computer and began typing away.

The following day was gray and overcast.  Trixie went to her classes in the morning and then showed up at work.  

“How did it go yesterday?” asked Imogene, as Trixie arrived.

“Oh Imogene, Mrs. Ellis was a very charming woman. She lives in an adorable brick house full of antiques.  She is trying to downsize so she can move into a senior center.  I told her that if she wanted to sell anymore of her antiques, we would be happy to help her, even pick them up for her.”

“That sounds good,” agreed Imogene.  “But what about the letter?  Did she want it back?”

Trixie shook her head.  “She thinks that since it was found in the desk, it should stay in the desk.  She knew the history of the letter, though.”  Trixie recounted Mrs. Ellis’s story behind the letter.  When she was done she looked at Imogene.  “I know Tad really wants to keep the letter.  Are you sure you don’t want it back?”

Imogene smiled. “No, Tad bought it fair and square.  I’m thrilled that it has all worked out so well.  By the way, I went ahead and rented the building next door.  You don’t happen to know an architect or designer, do you dear?”

“Sorry,  I don’t.  But this is going to be big for you.  But I’ll be happy to ask around.”

“And I want a good cook who is interested in making American cuisine.”

“Ooh, that sounds yummy.  I can’t wait.”

Imogene and Trixie discussed the new acquisition a bit more, then both went out to the front of the store and got to work.  As they worked, they tossed ideas back and forth about how to tie the restaurant into the store.  It was a pleasant afternoon and Trixie was surprised when it was time to close up.  

“Do you have plans tonight, dear?” asked Imogene.

“Yeh.  Tad and I are going to have dinner.  Would you like to join us?”

Imogene laughed.  “Oh my.  Absolutely not.  There’s a very good reason why they say two is company and three’s a crowd.”

After locking up, Imogene and Trixie left through the back door.  Starting her car, Trixie stared at the darkening alley, thinking that the day had turned out to be a pretty good one.  “And it’s just going to get better,” she thought as she drove to meet her boyfriend for a cozy dinner.”

“Hey Hunky one!” whispered Trixie, sneaking up behind Tad at the Community Center.

“Hey yourself,” he answered, grinning at her.  “Give me a few more minutes and then we can leave”   As Tad hustled around the center, Trixie wandered into Tad’s office and sat at his desk, twirling around in his chair.  “Okay, I’m ready.  Let’s go,” said Tad as he held out his arm to Trixie.  “I say we grab dinner at Wimpy’s tonight.  Are you okay with that?”

“Perfectly perfect.” responded Trixie happily.

The two jumped into Tad’s car and drove through the quiet streets.  Once inside the cozy diner, Tad and Trixie found a booth in the corner.  

“I’ll be right with you,” called out a grinning Mike, who was busy taking care of a couple of customers who were seated at the counter.

Trixie and Tad settled themselves.  Neither needed to read the menu, knowing exactly what they wanted.  Mike came to their booth, jotted down their orders, then hustled back to the front counter where he passed the order through to the kitchen.  

“So, how was school this morning?” asked Tad.

“You know Webster, you really know how to ruin a delightful evening,” said Trixie, scowling at Tad.  “Just for that...’  Trixie grabbed her knife and pretended to stab and jab with it.  Laughing, Tad grabbed his knife and an imaginary sword fight filled the small booth in the diner.  

“Oops,”  Trixie stopped as her knife clattered to the floor.  ‘Hold that pose, Webster,” said Trixie as she ducked under the table.  “En guard,” she cried out as she emerged, waving the knife around.  Tad, however, was fixated on something over Trixie’s shoulder.  Turning around in the seat, Trixie saw Nick walking towards their booth.  

“Mind if I sit down for a moment?”  he asked.

Trixie stared at Nick, surprised at his sudden appearance.  

“Trixie,” prompted Tad.  “Do you want to slide over?”

“Huh?” Trixie flicked her eyes toward Tad who nodded at her, indicating she should give Nick a seat on her side.  “Oh, sure.”  Trixie slid towards the wall and Nick sat down.  Trixie’s eyes darted back and forth between Nick and Tad, not knowing what to say.  Tad noticed Trixie’s discomfort as well as Nick’s.  

“So,” Tad said, breaking the awkward silence,  “It’s great to see you, Nick.  How are things at your store?”

“Good, really good, Tad.  I hear you are really making quite a  splash here in Sleepyside.”

Trixie listened as Nick and Tad made polite conversation with each other.  But her curiosity was growing and she wondered why Nick had shown up at their table.  Before she could ask, Nick broke off his conversation with Tad and changed the subject.

“Seriously, I wanted to talk to you guys,” began Nick.  “I think I need to clear things up.”  

Trixie pushed her water aside and turned to face Nick, her face attentive as he began his explanation.  

“First,” Nick continued.  “Yes, I wrote the note that you found Trixie.   I’m sorry I blew up at you.  I was just so shocked to see it again.  I couldn’t believe that it surfaced after all this time.”

Trixie fidgeted silently in her seat.  Finally, she met Nick’s gaze.  “Did you mean what you said in the note, Nick?  Did you really want to kill yourself?”

Nick nodded again.

“But why?  You had so much going for you.”

Nick faced Trixie.  “But I wrote the note four years ago.  And a lot has happened in four years, Trixie.  You, of all people, should know that.”

Trixie’s eyes widened.  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Hasn’t your life changed a lot in four years?” he asked.

‘I guess it has,” answered Trixie.  “But Nick, what happened to make you write this note?”

Nick fiddled with the napkins that were lying on the table.  “I guess, at the time, I thought that my life was over.”

“Why?”

Nick sighed.  “So many things, I guess.  I couldn’t get into the design school  I really wanted to and I was on the verge of failing two classes and that would mean that I wouldn’t be graduating.  I had just lost my job at the art store.  Everybody at high school seemed to be paired off and heading off for a glorious college experience.  My parents were terribly disappointed in me. And then there was the “gay” thing.  

“What gay thing?”  puzzled Trixie, looking at Tad.

“People assumed I was gay because I was into art.  It was so cliche. In fact, I was desperately in love with a girl who didn’t even know I existed.   I just couldn’t handle anything anymore.  So I decided to be done with it all.

“What changed your mind?” Trixie whispered.

“You really want to know?”

Trixie nodded.

Nick looked  at Tad and then into Trixie’s clear blue eyes.  “You,” he said simply.

Trixie’s mouth fell open.  “Me?  How could I have changed your mind.  I didn’t even know you were unhappy.”

Nick turned to face Trixie, placing his hand on her arm.  “Remember that day, in history, when everybody jumped into groups, partnering off as if their very lives depended on it.”

Trixie nodded.  “Yeh, the day you got my phone number and wrote it in the history book.”

Nick swallowed.  “I didn’t care if I was in a group or not.  I was ready to go home, take a handful of pills and never deal with history, math,  jobs, or anything else.  Then I saw your face.  You were sitting at your desk, looking so dejected and alone.  They’d left you out too, and you looked completely lost.  I couldn’t believe that you looked the way I felt.”

“I wish you would have told me. The Bob-Whites would have been there for you.”

“Trixie,” Nick said quietly, “There were no Bob-Whites.  It was just you, Honey and Diana.  And in case you forgot, Honey and Diana already had one foot out the door.”

“Oh”  Trixie looked into Nick’s eyes.  “Then what happened?” she whispered.

“I agreed to be your partner.  And I suppose, at that moment, the partnership kept me going.   During the project, you told me you were staying here in Sleepyside and that your friends were all going off to college.  You also told me how afraid you were of being alone and how you felt your identity was slipping away from you.  That made a lot of sense to me.  You had loved being a Bobwhite so much and was so proud of all the Bob-Whites had done.   That strong Bobwhite  foundation was eroding right underneath you.   So there I was, partnered with the infamous Trixie Belden, the doer of good, the fighter of evil.”  Nick paused.

Trixie scowled at her friend.  “Really, Nick!”

Nick shrugged.  “Yes,  really.  A lot of people saw you as some kind of invincible force.  And yet I was getting to know a side of you that I’m not sure you even knew existed.  Then, as we worked together, I began to admire your determination to get through college without taking on debt, even though it meant that you would be away from your best friends.     At some point, I  realized that while I was trying to build you back up, I had also begun building myself back up.  Every argument I gave you for why you would succeed no matter what, I needed to say to myself.  So you see, Trixie, if it hadn’t been for you, I probably would have ended my life when we were still in high school.  I owe my life to you.”

Trixie raised her brows at Nick.  “Don’t you think that you’re being a bit dramatic?”

Nick laughed.  “Maybe.  But then again, writing a suicide note and planning to follow through with it is also a bit dramatic”

“So after we finished our history project, everything was fine with you?”

“No, not at all.  I had simply figured out that I had a lot to live for.  I didn’t know where to begin or how to turn myself around.  I actually talked to a counselor and set up a program where I could recognize every little step I made that led me in the right direction.”

Tixie sipped her water.  “You know what I think?  I think you solved your problems by yourself.  Don’t be bringing me into this.  I didn’t solve anything. You did!”  She grinned.  “But I’m so glad that you worked through everything and are still here, Nick.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I always learn a lot from you, Trixie.  You struggled the first couple of years at college.  And then, finally, things turned around for you.  But you never gave up, never threw in the towel. You might have gone into hiding for a bit, but I just consider that as part of your metamorphosis.”

Trixie wrinkled her nose at him.  “Now you’re bringing science into this conversation?”

Nick laughed.  “In a way, I’m glad you found the note because it gives me the opportunity to thank you.  So, thank you, Trixie, for being the bright spirit that grows no matter what and brings hope  to all.”  Nick bowed down slightly.

Trixie giggled.  “Enough of that.  How about  I settle for a big hug.”

“Gladly” answered Nick as he leaned forward and embraced Trixie, tightening his grip.  “Thank you!  Thank you!” he whispered into her ear.  

“My pleasure,” she whispered back.

Tad watched the two, mesmerized by the conversation taking place in front of him.  It gave him a brief glimpse into a part of Trixie’s life that had been so pivotal, into the unhappiness that had engulfed her and the determination that had brought her to where she was now.

The three  continued to talk.  When Mike brought Trixie and Tad’s order, he asked Nick if he wanted anything.  

Declining,  Nick stood up.  “Thanks for listening to me.  And Trixie,  If there’s anything I can ever do for you, just ask.  Because I’ll do it, Trixie Belden.”

“Well, there is always my math homework…” she said with a sly grin.

“Except that,” Nick answered.  

Trixie shrugged.  “Can’t say I didn’t try.”  

Nick  and Tad laughed while Trixie tried to look hurt.  Unable to pull of the injured act, Trixie joined in the laughter.      

“Okay you two.  Have a good night.  See ya later.”  Nick turned and strode out of the diner.  Tad watched him go.  

“I have to admire the man.  He just put a lot on the line.  

Trixie nodded.  “I’m so glad he isn’t mad at me.  I don’t handle things like that very well.”

“I noticed, although I personally  enjoyed the ‘me making you feel better’ moments.”

“Definitely noted,” grinned Trixie.  They were silent as they ate the hot diner food.  Trixie noticed that Tad seemed lost in his own thoughts.  “What? she asked.

“I feel really bad,” he answered.

“Why?”

“I  was one of the bozos that assumed Nick was gay.”

“You did?”  Trixie’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Didn’t you?” questioned Tad.

Trixie shook her head.  “I just don’t understand how I could have missed so much in high school.”

“Belden, you were always busy chasing down a criminal or an imposter, or anything else that crossed your path.”

Trixie frowned at Tad.  “Oh well, maybe Imogene said it best when she said ‘Que sera sera’.”

“Oh yeh, that’s a pretty good movie.”

Trixie stared at Tad, confused.  “What’s a pretty good movie?  And what does that have to do with what I said?”

“‘Que sera sera’.  It’s a song that Doris Day sings in the movie The Man Who Knew Too Much.”

“I’ve never heard of that movie.”

“Serious?  Belden, you’ve got to see it.  Why don’t I rent it and we can watch it this weekend?”

“Okay.”

“And while I’m at it, I’ll get Rear Window .  That and “The Man Who Knew Too Much” are both Alfred Hitchcock movies.  I think you will get a real kick out of Rear Window, especially the character played by Thelma Ritter.”

“Sounds like a good plan. I’m in.”

In the secluded booth in the old diner, Tad and Trixie settled back and enjoyed the rest of their evening, only parting company when the two had to go to their separate homes.

**********

Trixie pulled  back the plastic tarp that covered the recently created entrance from the antique store to the new restaurant and assessed the construction that was underway.  Scaffolding stood next to the recently installed walls and drop cloths covered  parts of the floor.  New

gleaming lights hung from the open rafters in the ceiling.   Beyond the main room, Trixie could see the progress that had been made in the kitchen.

“What do you think?” asked Imogen, standing next to the young woman.

“It looks awesome, Imogene.  That designer you hired did a great job.  I love the brick floor and plank walls.  How long until the restaurant opens?”

“It will be a couple more weeks.  My biggest concern now is that I haven’t found a chef to run it.  I want very good soups, salads and sandwiches.  And I don’t want pre-made food.  I know I have high expectations, but I really think this restaurant could work and I want to do it right.”

“Wait a minute!”  Trixie snapped her fingers.  “Remember that friend of Tad’s who helped move the desk?  

“Wayne?”

“No, Ian.”

“Have I met him?”

“Imogene, yes, only you keep calling him Wayne but his name is Ian.  In fact, I told you we call him ‘Chef Ian’.”

“Well then, yes, I remember him.”

“He is studying restaurant management and is also taking some culinary classes at the college.    Tad and I went to a cookout at his place this summer and the food was amazing.  You might want to consider talking to him.”

“Oh Trixie, that sounds like a great idea.  Can you get me his number?”

“I’ll get it to you by this afternoon.”

“That sounds...what’s that phrase you like to use, dear?”

“Perfectly perfect.”

“Yes, that’s it and it is.”

Trixie turned when she heard the bell over the door tinkle softly.  “Hey Nick,” she called out.  ‘What can I help you with?”

Nick walked up to Trixie and handed her a flat, wrapped package.  

“Ooh, is this what I think it is?” asked Trixie.

Nick nodded.  “Yep.  And I think you will like the way I framed the letter.  I know I’ve had it for a couple of weeks, but I wanted to find the right frame for it.”

Trixie and Nick walked to the back room where Trixie excitedly tore the paper off the picture.  “Oh Nick.  It’s perfect.  I love the background with the frame.  I bet Tad will love it.”  She turned quickly and threw her arms around her friend.  “Thank you so much.”

Nick returned the hug.  “You’re welcome, Trixie.”

‘How much do I owe you?” asked Trixie.

Nick shook his head.  “Nothing.  I was happy to do it for you and just working with this document was kinda exciting.”

“Nick, I want to pay you something.”

Nick shook his head.

Trixie chewed her lower lip for a minute, thinking about how to repay Nick for his work.  “I’ll tell you what.  When we open the restaurant next door, you come down here to eat  and it’ll be my treat.”

“Deal, but only if you join me.”

“Okay. And now I can’t wait to give this to Tad,’ said Trixie, holding up the framed letter.  

Needing to get back to his own small shop, Nick left Ingrams.  Trixie watched him as he jogged a few doors down the street.

“He’s such a nice young man,” commented Imogene  as she stood behind Trixie.

Trixie spun around.  “Yes, he is. Oh Imogene, come see the letter.”

Trixie and Imogene went into the back room where Trixie proudly shared the framed treasure with Imogene.  

“He did a wonderful job with it.  You know, I get a lot of historical documents that would look better if I had them matted and framed.  I think I will offer Nick a contract to do that for me.”

“Imogene!  That’s a great idea,” answered Trixie.

‘Now, I have something to show you,” said Imogene.  She bent down and pulled out a carton that was under her desk.  Trixie watched as Imogene pulled out a bulky package, wrapped in old newspapers.  

“The binoculars!” whispered Trixie.  “I’m so glad you found them.  It just wouldn’t be right if we didn’t have them.”

“I found the box when I was moving things around so we could start construction on the restaurant.  Here.” Imogene placed the binoculars in Trixie’s hands. “These belong with the desk and the letter.”

“Thank you so much, Imogene.  Tad will be thrilled.”

After carefully rewrapping the picture, Trixie placed it and the binoculars in a safe spot.  The two women went back to work, chattering excitedly about the new possibilities that had opened up for the shop.  Later in the afternoon, Trixie texted a message to Tad, “I have a surprise for you”.    A few minutes later, Trixie felt her phone vibrate.  “Can’t wait.  See you after work.”  was the reply.

Later that evening, Tad and Trixie enjoyed a meal of pasta  and vegetables the two had put together at Tad’s apartment.

“I love the letter,” said Tad as he looked beyond Trixie to the wall above his desk, where he had proudly hung the letter, with the binoculars sitting directly underneath it.

“I’m glad.  This whole thing with both letters worked out perfectly, although there was a bit too much drama in it.”

‘Here! Here!” said Tad, lifting his glass toward Trixie.  ‘By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you what you wrote your paper about for your literature class.”

Trixie took a sip of wine and sat the glass down on the table.  “Well, I did make this assignment much more difficult than necessary.  I thought and thought and finally decided to write about my stage debut, which occurred when I was just kid.”

“Stage debut?” asked Tad, confused.  “How does a sharp right turn play into your stage debut?”

Trixie laughed.  “I came out on the stage, dressed as an adorable daffodil.  I wanted my parents to be proud of me and I was so sure I could do that...”

“And…”

“I made a sharp right turn and fell off the stage.”

Tad stared at Trixie for a minute, his lips twitching.  When he could no longer contain it, the laughter erupted.   “That was some right turn” he chortled.

“And Mart has never let me forget that debut,” Trixie laughed.  “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I suggested that Imogene talk to Ian.  She is looking for a chef or head cook for her restaurant.”

“That’s a good idea.  The food at his cookout was amazing.   I can only imagine what he would do if he were let loose in a kitchen.”

“If Imogene hires him, then we will spend an evening at the restaurant testing his dishes.  How does that sound?”

“Perfectly perfect,” answered Tad, grinning at the phrase that Trixie loved to use.

Trixie shook her head.  “That’s just not a phrase that should ever be used by a guy.”

Tad shrugged.  “Whatever.  But I guess this is another mystery wrapped up by the infamous Trixie Belden.  What should we call this mystery?”

Trixie scowled at Tad.  “You’re crazy, Webster.”

Tad continued, a teasing smile on his face.  “Let’s see.  Trixie Belden Solves the Mystery of the Two Letters,  or Trixie Belden Solves the Mystery of the Unhappy Friend,  or Trixie Belden Solves the Mystery of the Unmanned Restaurant.”

Trixie piped up, “How about Trixie Belden Wonders Why She is Having Dinner with Tad Webster?”

Tad’s smile broke into a wide grin.  “That one’s easy.  You have dinner with me because you go for the desserts afterward.”  Tad waggled his eyebrows at Trixie.

Giggling, Trixie answered, “Well, maybe, but that would be a whole different type of book.”

Tad continued,  “Or Trixie Belden and the Mystery of the Old Textbooks.  By the way, what did you do with all those books/”

“That was easy.  Some woman actually wanted them because she makes stuff out of old books.”

“Stuff?” questioned Tad, placing a forkful of twirled spaghetti into his mouth.

“Yes, stuff.  Stuff like shelves, door wreaths, and pieces of furniture”  Trixie shrugged.  “Pretty sure I won’t be buying her stuff.”

“Oh come on Belden.  Haven’t you learned to never say never?”

Tad’s question was met with a sly grin from Trixie.  “Well, I am with you…”

Their eyes met as the two burst out laughing.

“By the way, our next soccer session starts in two weeks.  I assume you will be gracing the field again?”

“Gracing?  More like stumbling and tripping,  but yes, I’m in!”

“Good.  It’s so much more fun with you along, Belden.”  

“Thanks, Webster.  Wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

“Right back at you.   Hey, maybe we should get the team together and play some laser tag,” suggested Tad.  “That would be fun.”

“That definitely sounds like a plan, Webster.   But I can tell you right now that you’re going down,” said Trixie, her eyes sparkling.

The laughter and teasing floated through the apartment while the two made plans for the approaching summer.  Stacking the plates atop each other, Tad pushed his chair back and stood up.

“I suppose I have to do the dishes tonight?” he questioned.

“What is it they say?  Oh yes, ‘que sera sera’,” Trixie replied, giggling as Tad swept the dishes off the table and carried them into the kitchen.

When the kitchen was cleaned up, the two settled back on the couch, studying the desk with the letter above it.  

“So,” began Tad.  “what do you want to do now?”

“Well,” answered Trixie coyly, “I have an idea or two.”

“Oh good because I love your ideas, Belden.”  

“Oh yeh?  Name one.” Trixie demanded, sitting up.

“Joining my soccer team.”

“Okay.  Name another one.”

“Working at Imogene’s shop”

“Go on.”

“Going to a local college.”

“Wait! Why is it that dating you isn’t one of my ideas that you love?” Trixie asked.

“Oh Belden,” whispered Tad as leaned in and nuzzled her neck, his arm pulling her closer.  “I always save the best for last.’

***********************************************

I was honored to be a contributor to the special CWE#9 that was compiled in honor of  Amy Kaliski. Although I didn’t know her, I very much enjoyed her stories and know that she will be greatly missed by the Jix community.  

Author’s notes:

A special thank you to all who read my stories.

Another special thank my to my sister Judith who edited my story in during her Christmas vacation from Rice University.  

powerpoint presentation-MIcrosoft Office product that allows users to create a multi-media presentation that can be used on a projector or a personal computer.

underoos- underwear for girls and boys made by Fruit of the Loom, featuring popular characters, especially superhero comics.

Rear Window- a 1954 mystery-thriller movie directed by Alfred Hitchcock and starring James Stewart and Grace Kelly.

The Man Who Knew Too Much - a 1956 mystery-thriller movie directed by Alfred Hitchcock and starring James Stewart and Doris Day.

Laser tag -  a team or individual  activity where players attempt to score points by tagging each other,  typically with a hand-held laser device

title image-a picture of the letter on my living room wall

word count:  16114

Trixie, Tad, Nick, and Mike are all the property of Random House Publishing and are used without permission.  Imogene Ingram is a character created by me and if there is somebody in the world like her, I haven’t met that person yet.