Page 81 of Ardently Yours

May 8, 1999

Dear Arden,

I’ll talk to you tonight, but I’m emailing you now, so I can send you pics.

I saw you in the crowd! Could you tell? The flub at the beginning of my speech was because I was so happy you were there. I couldn’t stop grinning like a loon, even in the serious parts.

It’s not like you didn’t already know the whole thing end to end already. Thank you for listening to me practice seventeen times.

Your delivery arrived within twenty minutes of Bronnie and me arriving at home. TWELVE bouquets of roses, Arden? That’s ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FOUR roses. It was a challenge to figure out where to put them all. You’re ridiculous, and I love you.

Bronnie was over the moon that one of the bouquets was for her. I suggested she put them back in water, but she’s carrying those miniature pink roses around with her everywhere.

She took sheer curtains out of the closet, put them on her head, and stomped around the deck of her pirate ship with her flowers. I asked her if she was playing ghost, and she said, “I’m a pirate princess bride. Argh, matey.”

Watch your mail for a package. Bronnie and I made you guys chocolate chip cookies as a thank you for the roses. I’m warning you these, too, were made with extra love.

I’ve attached photos of Bronnie with her roses, and me with mine.

I’ll be packing and getting ready for our trip this weekend. I really love the idea of Lake Michigan. I’ve never been there, but it sounds more down to earth than most of your other properties. I think it’ll go a lot better if we don’t overwhelm Bronnie with too many new things at once, so keeping this as close to “normal” for her as possible will help. She’s pretty adaptable for a five-year-old (I think), but she gets cranky if she feels stressed out.

Maybe she gets it from me. ;)

I wish you’d been able to stop by my place before you headed back, but I completely understand why you couldn’t. Aaaah! I could scream with excitement that it’s almost time for us to meet each other’s kids (and introduce them to each other). I love you.

Your Charlotte

If I Had a $1,000,000

Arden

May 9, 1999

Reese pulls onto therutted dirt lane that leads to the Miller farm. “We scoped it out yesterday and Brock is already on site.”

“Charlotte’s parents aren’t a security risk,” I say.

Reese sucks on his eyetooth. “Is she meeting you here?”

I shake my head. “Her father would like a ‘private word.’”

Reese gives me an irritated glance. “You didn’t tell me this was a confrontation, not a nice meet-and-greet with the family.”

“Come on. I eat guys like Bob Miller for breakfast.”

Reese nods in acknowledgment. I’m not being arrogant, it’s simply the truth.

“Besides, I didn’t come all this way to provoke the man. The last thing I want is for Charlotte’s parents to have a problem with us,” I say.

“It’s more likely he’ll ask for money.”

“And I’ll give it to him.”

A rank smell reaches my nostrils, and I grimace at Reese in disgust.

“It’s not me,” he says in an offended tone.

Reese comes to a stop, and I wait for him to open the door. When I step outside into the sunshine, Mrs. Miller, wearing jeans and a pale blue T-shirt, rushes across her porch, a dish towel in her hands.

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