“Maybe I was suspicious of him because I knew that he was different.”
“Different how?”
“That he was the one for you.” The words hung in the air between them, and she fought the urge to sniff back tears. She was done with those; they achieved nothing but a red nose and sore throat.
“I think he may be,” Maggie whispered. “But it’s a bit of a mess between us right now.”
“The path to truth love never runs smooth, Tigger.”
She snorted, then punched his arm. “And you’d know this how?”
“I read it in a book. Now, go pack your things, and we’ll head back. It’s that ridiculous musical chairs for adults event today, and I could do with a laugh.”
“That’s today?” Maggs jumped to her feet. “I entered you.” She sprinted from the room squealing with Nash on her heels.
…
Driving through town an hour later, she waved to people as they crawled down the main street. Stalls were being set up outside shops, and soon the road would be closed off.
“Is that the woman who used to run your gallery before you took over?” Nash pointed out the windscreen. Maggie searched and found Linda Foster crossing the road.
“OMG!”
“What!” Nash hit the brakes.
“Go to the gallery, Nash. Now!”
“My heart nearly stopped. You shouldn’t yell like that in a car if there is no emergency, Tigger.”
“Hurry.”
“I’m not driving at speed when there is ice on the roads.”
After a drive that she could have run faster, they pulled up outside the gallery. Grabbing her keys from her bag, Maggs was out and sprinting to the door in seconds.
“What’s going on?” Nash followed at a more sedate pace.
Maggie ignored him and turned off the alarm, then ran through the gallery to the back room. Opening the filing cabinet, she dug into the back of a row of files. Pulling out folders, she opened one and rifled through it. Then another.
“Speak!” Nash bellowed minutes later.
“I kept some of the previous owner’s papers. She told me to, so I could follow up and see if people who purchased from her wanted to buy more artwork later.”
“Okay. Still none the wiser?”
Maggie kept looking until she found what she wanted.
“There.” Holding out a paper for him to read, she then dug her phone out of her pocket, going through the pictures until she found the letter. “It’s the same writing.”
He went still, his eyes going from the paper in his hand to the photo.
“It’s there in the way she writes the little heart above thei. Plus the swirly ends on they’s.”
“It looks the same, but that could be coincidence.”
Maggie continued going through the papers, reading each one, checking she was right, until she came to one halfway through the pile. Her heart nearly stopped as she read the words.
“That says, ‘for A.J.,’ doesn’t it, Nash?”
