Читать книгу Meeting Mr. Right - Deb Kastner - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Dear BJ,

This week has been very tough for me. Sometimes I just feel like I need to let my hair down—do you know what I mean? I’m so guarded all the time, worrying about what people think of me and, even more, what they expect of me. I’m afraid I might not be living up to everyone’s standards.

It’s stressful keeping everything bottled up inside all the time. It would be nice to be able to see things differently for a change, from another point of view. From a different set of eyes.

Oh, who am I kidding? I am what I am and that’s all...well, you know. I’m starting to sound like Popeye now. Terrific. Who ever knew that he was such a sage?

I guess I should just accept the way that God made me and not try to make myself anything different. I might feel like a distinct person inside my heart, but people don’t see that, do they?

That’s never going to change. I’m never going to change.

It’s just that when I read your emails, I feel...well, differently about myself. Stronger. I wish I could be as easygoing as you obviously are.

I downloaded the graphics you sent me. They’re really good! I’m attaching a revised script that incorporates the photographs, so we can begin preparing the final presentation. Let me know if you have any modifications you’d like me to make.

Faithfully,

Veronica Jayne

The rich smells of roasted coffee, nutmeg and baked apples warmed Vee’s nostrils as she entered the Cup o’ Jo Café. She inhaled deeply and the tension she always carried around in her shoulders and neck was immediately soothed by the colorful, welcoming atmosphere. The familiar quiet buzz of the other patrons talking as they sat in booths enjoying a hot meal heartened her. Cup o’ Jo had been a regular hangout for Vee growing up, and even now it was her go-to place when she needed a lift in spirits.

Or a computer with internet service. Tonight, she needed both. She couldn’t wait to see if BJ had replied to her last post.

Jo Murphy Spencer, the owner of the café, approached in her usual exuberant way, her red curls bouncing and her smile beaming. The woman never failed to put Vee at ease, no matter how she was feeling when she walked in the door. Jo, with her wacky T-shirts, observant nature and ear for the latest gossip, was like a second mother to most of the town. Vee suspected the older woman knew more about her than most of her friends and neighbors did, but she was okay with that. There was no one better than Jo for doling out sound advice, solicited or not.

“Vee, dear,” Jo exclaimed, waving the purple dishcloth she held in one hand. “Have you come to spend some time on the internet for your Spanish class, or shall I seat you at a table for a nice home-style dinner?”

Vee felt her face warm and hoped Jo didn’t notice the flush of her cheeks. Not much chance of that, though. Jo was extremely perceptive. She was bound to see that something was off, but to Vee’s relief, Jo did nothing more than raise a curious brow.