Worthy ripped off the top ticket and handed it to me. âSpeeding,â he said. The next one. âReckless driving.â Then one more. âAnd failure to stop for a police officer.â
He left then, and I sat there for a moment, still looking at the three tickets in my one hand and the coffee-stained letter to Tyra Grimes in my other hand.
Then I folded up the tickets and put them in my glove compartment. I put my letter to Tyra Grimes back on the passenger seat.
Fancy marbleized stationery, thatâs what sheâd think, I told myself. I drove onâgoing fairly slow nowâknowing that somehow my friend Winnie Porterâd make me feel better. Sheâd know how to get my letter to Tyra Grimes.
Then I rounded the curve and pulled up to Ed Crowleyâs placeâjust in time to see her big red-and-white bookmobile pulling away.
Two weeks, four days, and six hours later, on a Sunday afternoon at my apartment, my boyfriend Owen said softly, âNow Josie, you do understand that youâre not going to hear from Tyra Grimes, donât you?â
I glared at him.
âI mean, not today,â he went on hastily. âNot on a Sunday. Thereâs no mail today and you canât expect a business call. You even close the laundromat on Sundays, and . . . Josie? Arenât you ever going to cheer up?â
I closed my eyes and groaned.
You see, I did catch up with Winnie and the bookmobile right after she pulled away from Ed Crowleyâs place. I told her about the map and my plan and showed her my letter to Tyra Grimes, which she looked at for a while until she finally said, yes, if you squinted at it just so it really did look like fancy marbleized stationery, which she was sure someone of Ms. Grimesâs grand taste would truly appreciate. Winnie adores Tyra Grimes. She has taped every one of Tyraâs showsâand cataloged them.
Then she looked through some thick reference volumes she keeps just below the back desk (built in, so it wonât slide around), and frowned and said, âHmmm.â Then she poked on the computer, up front behind the driverâs seat, and frowned and said, âHmmm.â Then she called someone at the main library, and frowned and said, âHmmm.â Then she repeated the whole process, only this time through she frowned and said, âUh huh, uh huh,ââa change in gutteralities I found encouraging. Sure enough, Winnie finally found itâthe direct and specific address to Tyra Grimesâs office, not just a general TV show address. Winnie is magical when it comes to research.
So I addressed the envelope and mailed it.
But now here it was, Sunday afternoon, two and a half weeks later. Paradisites elsewhere had moved on with their livesâso I could now run my laundromat without being teasedâbut I was stuck. Stuck with a book I didnât really want to readâ The Idiotâs Guide to Home Decorating and Style in General . Winnieâd made me check it out because she said I should have at least a basic parlance with such matters if I was going to be on the Tyra Grimes Home Show .
Which it didnât look like I was.
âHow about we go see Guy?â Owen said gently.
I opened one eye and looked at Owen. My community college professor, book-loving boyfriend was cute, I decided, in a goofy way, with his goatee and mustache and long, thin blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.
âWe havenât done that for three weeks. What do you say, Josie?â
I opened my other eye and grinned.
âBless you,â I said. I stood up, headed for my fridge. A six-pack of Big Fizz diet cola, and I was ready to go.
âYou could even wear your new Tyra Grimes T-shirt!â he said.
I turned and gave him a look.
âUhâI guess that wasnât such a great suggestion.â
âNo, it wasnâtâbut not for the reason youâre thinking.â
On the drive over to Stillwater, Iâd