It was in 1994. I was living in Providence, Rhode Island.
In the spring of that year, I was invited to accept an award for my book Nothing but the Truth in Phoenix, Arizona. At the same time, I received an invitation to visit four schools in Denver, Colorado. With my East-Coast mentality, I thought the cities were close together, not the almost 600 miles that were the distance between them.
I accepted the invitation.
Shortly thereafter, I received another call, this time from the manager of a Denver bookstore, a children’s bookstore. Called The Bookies, it was one of the largest children’s bookstores in the country. I was asked, since I was coming to Denver schools, would I do a signing at the store?
Sure, I said.
An agreement was made, and I was told they would pick me up at the airport. I’d do the signing and then I’d be delivered to the school’s designated hotel.
All agreed.
Some five months later I went to Phoenix, accepted the award, and flew up to Denver. But when I got to the airport there was no one to pick me up. After waiting a long while, I called the bookstore and asked about the ride.
Seems the bookstore had a brand new manager and, after much apologizing, she explained she knew nothing about picking me up. “Please wait. I’ll come get you.”
I waited.
After some time a battered Jeep Cherokee pulled up to the curb and a skinny, pretty lady wearing a kilt jumped out. With renewed apologies, I was taken to the bookstore. During the ride, I learned that this woman had only just become the manager of the bookstore and had been told very little about my visit.
As it turned out nothing had been done to promote the signing. The only kids in the bookstore were two of this lady’s children. The eldest, a twelve-year-old girl, was shelving books. The six-year-old boy was only interested in something he was collecting. “Pods,” I think they were called.
The fact of the matter was no one showed up for the signing. All the same, I was stuck at the store for a couple of hours. There was nothing to do but talk to that lady.
We talked a lot.
Now I am not a believer in “love at first sight,” but by the time I left that bookstore, I had fallen in love with that lady. Linda was her name.
The next day I went to the first school. As I spoke to the assembled kids, I noticed that Linda was there, standing at the back of the room. Seems she had kids there.
When I got back to my hotel, I called the bookstore, asked for Linda, and invited her out for dinner the next day.
That we did, and we talked a great deal more. After dinner, she took me back to my hotel. “Could we go somewhere and talk some more?” I asked.
“I have to go home,” she said.
I went to my room.
But down in the lobby, Linda had a change of mind. “I need to speak to one of your guests,” she said.
“What’s his last name?”
Linda had a sudden realization. “I only know his first name.” At that point, she grabbed the guest register from the startled clerk and searched down the list of names until she found my whole name and called me.
“Let’s talk some more.”
That we did. A lot.
Reader, I married her.
Best book signing I ever went to.
4 thoughts on “A Love Story”
Love this! I’ll be smiling all day. While some may say it’s the old ‘truth is stranger than fiction,’ I won’t call it strange but perhaps there is something to the word ‘destined or the phrase, “meant to be.”
Great story! Lucky you and Linda. Now I know why you relocated to Colorado.
So glad there was a guest register. Grabbing a computer today would have been more difficult. Here’s to you and Linda! Cheers!
Splendid ! I Loved reading this story about you both.
Vinay Rodrigues
Goa
14th May 2024