hand into her pocket and approached the desk once more to hand him a slip of paper—the confirmation. “It will be ready by five.”
“Good.” Grant took another bite of sandwich and spoke around the crust. So far, his stomach seemed to be cooperating nicely. “I’ll pick it up on my way home tonight. Thank you for taking care of that.”
“Of course.” Her smile warmed light-brown eyes that were magnified behind the lenses of her glasses. “And you’re quite welcome. Now…line one is waiting.”
“Right.” Again, he noticed the flashing green light that signaled a caller. “I’d better get that.”
When she left, closing the door gently behind her, Grant set down the sandwich and picked up the receiver. “Hello, Grant Anderson speaking.”
“Hi, Grant. It’s Maggie.” Her voice spilled over the line like warm honey. “I called to thank you. The flowers are lovely.”
“You received them then?”
“Yes, this morning just before lunch. How did you know lilies and gerbera daisies are my favorites?”
“I went on a hunch.” Grant pictured Maggie’s smile and the waterfall of dark hair as it kissed her waist. He saw her blue eyes flecked with the gray of a summer thunderstorm and wished she was here so he might hold her hand and kiss her once more…the way he had last Sunday as they sat in the car in her driveway with sunlight spilling through the windshield to warm them and the scent of autumn leaves whispering on the breeze.
“Well, that hunch was spot on. They’re perfect and it’s been…well, it’s been a long time since I’ve received such a beautiful gift.”
“That’s going to change.” He nodded emphatically, though Maggie couldn’t see the affirmative gesture. “A woman like you should receive such gifts with regularity. It’s just…right.”
“Will I see you this afternoon?”
“Cara has another double-shift at the hospital, and she asked me to pick up Gemma. So, yes, I’ll see you after school when I come for her.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” A clatter of noise in the background caused Maggie to pause. Grant heard the chatter of voices as they tumbled through the receiver. “Oh, I lost track of time. I have to go now. The kids are returning from lunch.”
“I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Yes, soon.”
****
“Miss Andrews, how are pictures made?” Gemma asked as the class gathered around Maggie at the rocking chair and settled in on the carpet that served as the story circle. The day was nearly over, and it had been a full one, for sure.
Maggie reached for the picture book she’d selected for this afternoon’s closing read. “They’re made with pencils and crayons and paper, of course.”
“No, not drawing pictures.” Gemma shook her head so her copper curls danced over her eyes. “But the kind you hang on the wall and put in photo albums—like the one you brought to school.”
“Oh, well, let me think a minute.” Maggie scratched her head. How, exactly, were those photos made? She knew it had to do with light and chemicals and special paper, but she wasn’t quite sure about all the steps in the process. And if she didn’t understand the process, how on earth would she explain it all to Gemma. “I have an idea…we can research it after school, while we wait for your Uncle Grant to pick you up.”
“Research it?”
“Yes, on the computer.” Maggie motioned toward the laptop on her desk. “We’ll search the Internet together to find the answer.”
“I like that idea.” Gemma’s sweet smile lit her entire face. “Maybe Uncle Grant will want to help us.”
“Yes, maybe he will.”
“Can I look at your photo album again, Miss Andrews?” Gemma’s gaze drifted to the desk where the album lay. “I like the pictures.”
“Of course you may, after our story. Come sit down now and join the others. You can help me read, if you’d like.”
“Oh, I’d like that, too.”
“It’s settled, then.” Maggie motioned
“Good.” Grant took another bite of sandwich and spoke around the crust. So far, his stomach seemed to be cooperating nicely. “I’ll pick it up on my way home tonight. Thank you for taking care of that.”
“Of course.” Her smile warmed light-brown eyes that were magnified behind the lenses of her glasses. “And you’re quite welcome. Now…line one is waiting.”
“Right.” Again, he noticed the flashing green light that signaled a caller. “I’d better get that.”
When she left, closing the door gently behind her, Grant set down the sandwich and picked up the receiver. “Hello, Grant Anderson speaking.”
“Hi, Grant. It’s Maggie.” Her voice spilled over the line like warm honey. “I called to thank you. The flowers are lovely.”
“You received them then?”
“Yes, this morning just before lunch. How did you know lilies and gerbera daisies are my favorites?”
“I went on a hunch.” Grant pictured Maggie’s smile and the waterfall of dark hair as it kissed her waist. He saw her blue eyes flecked with the gray of a summer thunderstorm and wished she was here so he might hold her hand and kiss her once more…the way he had last Sunday as they sat in the car in her driveway with sunlight spilling through the windshield to warm them and the scent of autumn leaves whispering on the breeze.
“Well, that hunch was spot on. They’re perfect and it’s been…well, it’s been a long time since I’ve received such a beautiful gift.”
“That’s going to change.” He nodded emphatically, though Maggie couldn’t see the affirmative gesture. “A woman like you should receive such gifts with regularity. It’s just…right.”
“Will I see you this afternoon?”
“Cara has another double-shift at the hospital, and she asked me to pick up Gemma. So, yes, I’ll see you after school when I come for her.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” A clatter of noise in the background caused Maggie to pause. Grant heard the chatter of voices as they tumbled through the receiver. “Oh, I lost track of time. I have to go now. The kids are returning from lunch.”
“I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Yes, soon.”
****
“Miss Andrews, how are pictures made?” Gemma asked as the class gathered around Maggie at the rocking chair and settled in on the carpet that served as the story circle. The day was nearly over, and it had been a full one, for sure.
Maggie reached for the picture book she’d selected for this afternoon’s closing read. “They’re made with pencils and crayons and paper, of course.”
“No, not drawing pictures.” Gemma shook her head so her copper curls danced over her eyes. “But the kind you hang on the wall and put in photo albums—like the one you brought to school.”
“Oh, well, let me think a minute.” Maggie scratched her head. How, exactly, were those photos made? She knew it had to do with light and chemicals and special paper, but she wasn’t quite sure about all the steps in the process. And if she didn’t understand the process, how on earth would she explain it all to Gemma. “I have an idea…we can research it after school, while we wait for your Uncle Grant to pick you up.”
“Research it?”
“Yes, on the computer.” Maggie motioned toward the laptop on her desk. “We’ll search the Internet together to find the answer.”
“I like that idea.” Gemma’s sweet smile lit her entire face. “Maybe Uncle Grant will want to help us.”
“Yes, maybe he will.”
“Can I look at your photo album again, Miss Andrews?” Gemma’s gaze drifted to the desk where the album lay. “I like the pictures.”
“Of course you may, after our story. Come sit down now and join the others. You can help me read, if you’d like.”
“Oh, I’d like that, too.”
“It’s settled, then.” Maggie motioned
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