reward myself for my efforts, and take advantage of Armando’s absence, by buying a scrumptious piece of cod from City Fish for my dinner. Fish wasn’t on Armando’s preferred menu list, but I loved it.
After stowing the groceries, I put the fish in a hot toaster oven with chopped garlic, lemon juice and buttered bread crumbs and poured myself a glass of crisp pinot grigio to enjoy while I waited. Gracie, whose nose never failed her, appeared at my side, ready to accept whatever scraps I might offer her when the fish was cooked.
As I sipped and waited for the timer to go off, I had what I thought was a very good idea. My daughter Emma has one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever come across, and she’s a real puzzle nut. If anyone could crack this code, Emma could. I looked at my watch: Six o’clock, which meant it was three o’clock in Oregon. It was unlikely that she and Ryan, her current love interest, would be hanging around his apartment in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, but I decided it was worth a shot and went upstairs to my office. Five minutes later a copy of the list of song titles and code from Lizabeth’s letter was en route to Emma’s laptop via e-mail. With her phone, laptop, scanner and printer, she could carry on her career as a real estate paralegal seamlessly whether she was in Connecticut or Oregon.
Predictably, my phone rang just as I was taking the fish out of the toaster oven. “Sorry, Gracie, but I won’t be long, I promise.” I thumped the baking pan back into the oven, set it to keep warm, and grabbed my phone.
“Hi, Momma,” my daughter greeted me. “Fun and games, huh?”
I filled her in on our efforts at solving the puzzle, including printing out the lyrics to each song on Lizabeth’s list. “We’re not having any luck figuring it out here, so I thought I’d give you a crack at it. What do you think? Any inklings?”
Coming from anyone else, her derisive laughter would have been insulting. Even from my daughter, it was annoying, and I bristled a bit. “You guys are overcomplicating it, Mom. This is a piece of cake. I’ll tell you what. I’m going to ask you to do one thing to the list of songs. Then I’m going to hang up, wait ten minutes and call you back. If you haven’t solved the puzzle by then, you’re not my mother.”
I was seriously amazed. “You mean, you’ve already cracked the code? How is that possible?”
“Fresh eyes,” she assured me. “Works every time. The longer you stare at something, or the more you re-read it, the more complicated it gets. Your mind won’t take it in any more, just skips over the words. So go get your copy of the song list and number the titles from the top of the list to the bottom. Then take another look at the number pairings and see what happens. I’ll call you back in ten minutes. ‘Bye.” And she was gone.
I stared at the phone in my hand trying to decide whether to be aggrieved or intrigued. Having grown-up children with practical knowledge and opinions is a mixed bag at the best of times. After a few seconds, curiosity trumped pique, and I ran back upstairs to retrieve my copy of the letter. I spread it out on the kitchen table and did as Emma instructed, numbering the song titles from top to bottom. That gave me:
1. My Secret Place
2. My Heart Is an Open Book
3. I Will Stand By You
4. Six and Seven Books
5. The Best Things in Life Are Free
6. Best of My Love
7. Hidden in My Heart
8. Hometown Girl
9. Paperback Writer
Okay, I thought, so let’s assume the first number in each pair of numbers refers to the number of the song, but what could the second number signify? I reviewed the list:
6,3 … 1,2 … 2,3 … 7,1 … 3,4 … 5,7 … 4,4 … 5,4 … 9,2 … 8,1
Almost immediately, I saw that the second number of each pairing was very low, nothing higher than 7. I looked at the list of song titles again and began underlining the title words that matched the second number in each pair. Now I had:
1.
After stowing the groceries, I put the fish in a hot toaster oven with chopped garlic, lemon juice and buttered bread crumbs and poured myself a glass of crisp pinot grigio to enjoy while I waited. Gracie, whose nose never failed her, appeared at my side, ready to accept whatever scraps I might offer her when the fish was cooked.
As I sipped and waited for the timer to go off, I had what I thought was a very good idea. My daughter Emma has one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever come across, and she’s a real puzzle nut. If anyone could crack this code, Emma could. I looked at my watch: Six o’clock, which meant it was three o’clock in Oregon. It was unlikely that she and Ryan, her current love interest, would be hanging around his apartment in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, but I decided it was worth a shot and went upstairs to my office. Five minutes later a copy of the list of song titles and code from Lizabeth’s letter was en route to Emma’s laptop via e-mail. With her phone, laptop, scanner and printer, she could carry on her career as a real estate paralegal seamlessly whether she was in Connecticut or Oregon.
Predictably, my phone rang just as I was taking the fish out of the toaster oven. “Sorry, Gracie, but I won’t be long, I promise.” I thumped the baking pan back into the oven, set it to keep warm, and grabbed my phone.
“Hi, Momma,” my daughter greeted me. “Fun and games, huh?”
I filled her in on our efforts at solving the puzzle, including printing out the lyrics to each song on Lizabeth’s list. “We’re not having any luck figuring it out here, so I thought I’d give you a crack at it. What do you think? Any inklings?”
Coming from anyone else, her derisive laughter would have been insulting. Even from my daughter, it was annoying, and I bristled a bit. “You guys are overcomplicating it, Mom. This is a piece of cake. I’ll tell you what. I’m going to ask you to do one thing to the list of songs. Then I’m going to hang up, wait ten minutes and call you back. If you haven’t solved the puzzle by then, you’re not my mother.”
I was seriously amazed. “You mean, you’ve already cracked the code? How is that possible?”
“Fresh eyes,” she assured me. “Works every time. The longer you stare at something, or the more you re-read it, the more complicated it gets. Your mind won’t take it in any more, just skips over the words. So go get your copy of the song list and number the titles from the top of the list to the bottom. Then take another look at the number pairings and see what happens. I’ll call you back in ten minutes. ‘Bye.” And she was gone.
I stared at the phone in my hand trying to decide whether to be aggrieved or intrigued. Having grown-up children with practical knowledge and opinions is a mixed bag at the best of times. After a few seconds, curiosity trumped pique, and I ran back upstairs to retrieve my copy of the letter. I spread it out on the kitchen table and did as Emma instructed, numbering the song titles from top to bottom. That gave me:
1. My Secret Place
2. My Heart Is an Open Book
3. I Will Stand By You
4. Six and Seven Books
5. The Best Things in Life Are Free
6. Best of My Love
7. Hidden in My Heart
8. Hometown Girl
9. Paperback Writer
Okay, I thought, so let’s assume the first number in each pair of numbers refers to the number of the song, but what could the second number signify? I reviewed the list:
6,3 … 1,2 … 2,3 … 7,1 … 3,4 … 5,7 … 4,4 … 5,4 … 9,2 … 8,1
Almost immediately, I saw that the second number of each pairing was very low, nothing higher than 7. I looked at the list of song titles again and began underlining the title words that matched the second number in each pair. Now I had:
1.
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