her denture disaster—a pair of reading glasses, a jar of cold cream, a toothbrush, a hair net and an entire medicine cabinet of vitamins. She’d tried to get Mrs. Gruber to leave her things in the guest bathroom, but her neighbor felt more comfortable carting it all back and forth. So Maggie had given up trying to convince her. Mrs. Gruber was a fantastic baby-sitter—more like a grandma to Zach, really—but she was accustomed to certain things. She always let herself in, said whatever came to mind and considered it her personal mission in life to see that nothing was ever wasted. She collected aluminum foil, washed and reused disposable flatware, birthday candles and plastic bags.
“Mrs-s-s. Goober! Mrs-s-s. Goober!” In his excitement to see her, Zach launched himself from the kitchen table and nearly tackled the old woman.
Mrs. Gruber told him to settle down and mind his manners, but her gruffness did nothing to stifle Zach’s enthusiasm. He knew she loved him.
She held him close, then delved into her overnight bag. “Look at this,” she told him. “I brought you something.”
It would have been a rare night had she not brought Zach a small present—a pretty rock for their collection, a quarter for his piggy bank, a new toothbrush. Maggie filed the disturbing newspaper articles away, planning to take them to the office with her, before tossing a look over her shoulder to see what Mrs. Gruber had brought him today.
“Pajamas-s-s with a cape!” Zach shrieked, immediately stripping off his clothes.
A widow who lived alone, Mrs. Gruber survived on social security and what Maggie paid her. She had no business spending her money on Zach, and Maggie often told her so. But that didn’t change a thing.
“He’s getting too tall for his football pajamas,” she explained, a defensive note creeping into her voice when Maggie cocked a brow at her. “And they were on sale.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
Mrs. Gruber scowled and helped Zach pull the top of his new pajamas over his head. “They didn’t cost enough to worry about.”
“That’s what you say about everything you buy him.” Maggie started rummaging through the cupboards, wondering what to feed Zach, but Mrs. Gruber nudged her aside.
“What are you lookin’ for?”
“Something for dinner.”
“I brought dinner. Zach loves my spaghetti and meatballs.” Before Maggie could respond, she added, “And don’t tell me not to bring food. It was leftovers. What did you want me to do, let it go to waste?”
She took out a plastic container with enough spaghetti and meatballs to feed an army, and Maggie knew darn well that it wasn’t leftovers. She’d made it for them, probably today.
“You’re spoiling us,” Maggie said, shaking her head.
Mrs. Gruber harumphed. “It’s just leftovers,” she said again.
“What are you doing here so early?” Maggie asked, changing the subject. “I don’t have to be at work until ten.”
“You were gone most of the day. I thought you might want to take a nap. You don’t get enough sleep. You don’t eat good. It’s going to catch up with you one day.”
Maggie smiled. Mrs. Gruber foretold her physical collapse on a daily basis. She was too thin. She worked too hard. She should be getting out more, making more friends, eating more vegetables. Today Maggie would’ve liked to take her up on the nap, but she wasn’t about to postpone her meeting with John. She’d been looking forward to it all afternoon. “I can’t sleep,” she said. “I have a…date.”
Mrs. Gruber’s face brightened beneath the tight, perfect rows of short, bluish curls. “Is it that nice garbageman who takes my trash out to the curb each week? I’ve told you to introduce yourself to him. He’ll probably start getting your trash now, too.”
Maggie didn’t tell her that there was no nice garbageman. She lugged the trash cans out for both of them when she got home from work on Tuesday mornings. “No, it’s someone I met online.”
“On what?”
Maggie laughed. “Online. On the Internet. We met at a chat, and now he’s e-mailing me.”
Mrs. Gruber propped one age-spotted hand on a bony hip. “He’s sending you messages? That’s it?”
“Well, no, not exactly. He’s taking me on a cyber-date tonight.”
“But you’ve never seen him? Never heard his voice?”
“Nope.”
“You’re going to stay in your house and he’s going to stay in his?”
“Yep.”
“That’s too bad,” she said. “You can’t neck with a man online.”
MAGGIE LEFT ZACH EATING spaghetti and playing Candyland with Mrs. Gruber and hurried to her bedroom so she wouldn’t be late for her date. She couldn’t believe she was actually nervous about “seeing” John again. What did she have to be nervous about? It was a cyber-date. It was nothing.
Her modem screeched through the familiar pattern of tones as Maggie hooked up to the Internet. She’d added John to her buddy list and expected to find his screen name listed there, but a quick glance told her he wasn’t online yet. She found a message from him instead.
Maggie—
When you’re ready for tonight, just click on the link below.
See you there.
John
The link John had sent consisted of a bunch of letters and numbers highlighted in blue. Maggie had expected another instant messaging session as their date, but apparently John had something else in mind. Pointing her mouse on the link, she clicked, and a moment later the picture of a beautiful island village filled her screen. Then a voice came through the speakers of her computer.
“Hi, Maggie. You said you like sand. Welcome to paradise.”
Was that John’s voice? she wondered. If so, she wished she’d been able to hear it more clearly. Her speakers weren’t the best. Whoever it was sounded tinny and unnatural.
Mntnbiker: Are you always so punctual, or dare I hope you’re excited to see me?
The words appeared in an instant message box in the upper left of Maggie’s screen, making her smile. John had arrived.
Zachman: Where are we? This looks great.
Mntnbiker: We’re vacationing in the Caribbean. Have you ever been here before?
Briefly Maggie remembered Tim and his many promises. “After I graduate, we’ll…” She’d worked her heart out to put him through school, but it was his new wife, Lucy, who was cashing in on the trips to Europe, Hawaii and Asia they’d planned to take. Or, rather, Lucy was cashing in if Tim actually took the time off. Knowing him, he never would. In his mind, the
