Pepper, the Highlander & the Dead Guy

“Come over when you’re finished,” I offered and wondered what a late-night rendezvous would be like.

“Even if it’s late?” Ian asked.

There was more to that question then what was asked, and I surprised myself again when I answered—more invited—without hesitation. “You can stay the night.”

Ian raised his brow. “Are you sure, Pep?”

I leaned over and kissed him. “Without a doubt.”

His arms captured me in a huge hug. “I love you so much, Pep.”

“I love you more,” I said and laughed. “We sound like a romance novel.”

“Good,” Ian said. “They always end happily ever after.”

Once home, I called Amy to tell her not only about my aunt but about my night rendezvous with Ian only to find out she couldn’t talk and would call me later. She and Beau were headed over to the Barn Bookstore in Barnsville. The books they had ordered had arrived and they were eager to pick them up. The store was named appropriately. It was actually a barn that had been converted into a huge bookstore. Large windows had been added for light and the loft expanded to a second floor. They sold new and used books and magazines. Sofa and chairs were spread throughout and there was a coffee bar as well. Picnic tables sat outside for use in the nice weather. I had done a few book signings there, and the owners, Dotty and Sam, treated me wonderfully.

I needed my mind occupied and off Ian or I feared I might talk myself out of what I was sure was going to happen tonight—sex. No! Ian had said we’d make love and that made a difference to me. I wanted more than a night of sex. I wanted it to mean something—I wanted love.

With love filling my head, I thought about Ian’s suggestion about love letters. It was like that old cliché—a light bulb went off in my head. The key with the faded pink ribbon locked away in a box in a spooky basement. Why? Because the key revealed a secret. The pink ribbon would have been put there by a woman in love. Nowadays colors didn’t matter between the sexes, but in my aunt’s time they did. Pink for a girl and for love.

I hurried to my nightstand where I had left the key after getting home from Ian’s that night. After all that had gone on that evening, he told me to take the key and see if I could think of what it might open.

I snatched it up. I had plenty of time to search the attic before getting ready for the night with Ian.

I stared at the boxes and chests in the attic, wondering where to start. Recalling my aunt keeping secrets in her pockets, I decided that the armoire was a good place to start.

You would think with me being curious I would have gone through my aunt’s armoire by now and the attic. I could make the excuse that I was busy and the things up here could wait. Or I could admit that I hadn’t wanted to have to discard my aunt’s belongings. This cabin might be mine, but in a way, it would always belong to my Aunt Effie.

The armoire’s doors creaked as I opened them, and my glance went straight to the bottom two draws. I smiled when I spotted the keyhole at the top of each drawer. Could it be that easy?

I plopped myself down in front of the drawers, took a breath and inserted the key in one of the drawers. It fit and I turned it and smiled when I heard the click. I pulled open the drawer. Bundles of letters tied together with faded pink ribbon filled it. I opened the other drawer, and it held the same. I checked the stacks for dates on the envelopes. I wanted to start at the beginning of Max and Aunt Effie’s love story.

Armed with a few bundles, I went downstairs to settle on the couch to start reading. It was hours before Ian would arrive, so I had plenty of time to get ready.

My cell rang. It was Ian.

Before I could say a word, he spoke. “I’m sorry, Pep, I’m not going to be able to make it tonight.”

He sounded as disappointed as I felt.

“I have to see the photo shoot finished tonight and the photos sent by morning.”

“I won’t say I’m not disappointed,” I said, and he was quick to do the same.

“Extremely disappointed,” he said.

“I do understand though. Besides, I have love letters to keep me company.”

“You found your aunt’s love letters?” he asked excited.

“Two batches so far. There may be more.”

“I’m jealous. I wish I could be there reading them with you.”

“I’d wait, but I can’t,” I said with all honesty and a laugh.

“I wouldn’t be able to wait either, but please tell me I will get to read them. I’d like to get to know the uncle who was responsible for bringing me to the woman I fell madly in love with.”