A Crazy Kind of Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

and plunged one hand inside. “Anyway, the crowds at the library were getting so bad that old Mrs. Rogan, thelibrarian, who at her last birthday was judged to be about a hundred and ten, was going nuts. Chasing people around with her yardstick—and she’s no spring chicken, so she had to keep stopping for breath.”
    “A hundred and ten. It’s a wonder she
has
breath.”
    “Yeah, well, only the good die young,” Mike quipped. “Mean goes on forever.” She stared into the bag, threw a quick look at Lucas, then started digging around again. “Anyway . . . it got so crowded and ugly over at the library, with people going through books that hadn’t been opened in centuries, that Mrs. Rogan put an ad in the paper, asking whoever was putting money in there to cut it out.”
    “Did it work?”
    “Yep.” Mike glanced at him. “The money fairy took out an ad the next week, saying there would be no more money left in the library.”
    “So Mrs. Rogan was happy.” Lucas leaned back against the refrigerator and folded his arms over his chest. Intrigued, he watched her and waited for the rest of the story.
    “Oh yeah. She was happy and everyone else was miserable,” Mike said, forgetting about the contents of the bag for a minute to enjoy herself. “Which just made Mrs. Rogan
more
happy. The woman lives to see people suffer.”
    He smiled, too, and told himself he had to get into town to get a look at this librarian. “So how’d the mailboxes come into play?”
    “That’s the best part.” Mike braced both hands on the counter behind her, jumped up and plopped onto the counter to sit in a splash of sunshine streaming throughone of the windows overlooking the back deck. Folding her hands between her knees, she locked her ankles and swung them lazily. “A week or so ago, people started finding money—some twenties, but mostly fifties—in with their mail.”
    “Everybody?” Lucas asked, his mind clicking along as if picking up clues. This was what he did best. Unlocking mysteries.
    “Nope.” She unclasped her hands and pointed an index finger at him. “That’s the interesting part. See . . . the only people who are getting money
now
are the ones who really need it. Like for example, last week, Mr. Parsons. He lives out past Mama Candellano just off the coast road—he got slapped with a tax assessment for a shed he put up behind the house, and bingo!”
    “Bingo what?”
    “He found the exact amount he needed in his mailbox. Went into town the next day, told everyone who’d stand still long enough to listen, and then paid off his bill.”
    “Interesting.” Lucas frowned thoughtfully. So not only was the good fairy generous, he or she obviously had an inside source, telling him or her exactly who needed what, when.
    “Oh yeah. But as far as anyone knows, nobody else knew about Mr. Parson’s debt. So how’d the mailbox fairy find out?” Mike jumped off the counter, landing with a solid thump. “
And
, it’s not just big stuff, either.” She glanced at him again as she opened the brown bag and reached one hand in. “Elinor Hyatt’s ten-year-old daughter wanted to take ballet lessons, but Elinorcouldn’t afford it. Told Hayley she’d have to wait till next year. Guess who’s taking ballet lessons?”
    “Hayley?”
    “You win a year’s supply of Turtle Wax. Got signed up this morning. Apparently, Elinor found the money for the lessons in her mailbox yesterday and Hayley’s all set to be a diva.” She took a small brass object from the bag and grinned at it. “Won’t be hard for her to pull off, either. Hayley’s always pretty much acted like a star. Elinor’s gonna have big trouble with that kid one of these days.”
    Lucas was hardly listening. Instead, he watched as Mike snatched a screwdriver out of a kitchen drawer—how’d she know it was in there?—and started taking off one of the kitchen-cabinet pulls. “What’re you doing?”
    “Oh,” she said, looking at him over her