With Love from London

“Maybe someday,” I said to Millie, “we’ll still get that bookstore.”

She forced a smile, but her eyes were filled with regret, disappointment. “It was just a silly childhood dream. They don’t always come true.”

“No, Millie. It was our dream. It still can be.” I needed Millie to believe, for me.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but stopped when we heard a knock at the door. “That can’t be Frank,” I said. “He’s not supposed to be here until two.” I unhinged the lock, and the older, distinguished-looking man standing in the hallway outside our flat was, indeed, not Frank.

“Miss Wilkins?”

“Yes,” I said as he handed me an envelope with a wax seal on the back engraved with the letters E.S. And then he was gone.

Millie looked over my shoulder as I tore open the envelope and pulled out the card inside.


Eloise,

You disappeared, and now I must find you. But you’ll have to find me first.

Roses are red, violets are blue, imagine what you might discover inside a nearby shop filled with shoes.

I’ll be waiting.

With love,

Edward





“What is this?” Millie asked impatiently.

I didn’t have time to fill her in. “I’ll tell you later,” I said, my heart racing as I reached for my sweater on the hook by the door. “I have to go!”

“Eloise, wait!” But I didn’t stay a moment longer. I bolted down the stairs and out to the street. The local cobbler was just around the corner, and when I burst inside, the clerk at the counter’s smile confirmed that I’d found the right place. He handed me another envelope, sealed just like the last one, and I opened it immediately.


Eloise,

One step closer, congratulations. Do you remember the night we met? I do. I think about it every day. The memory, I believe, will be forever stitched on my heart, that is, unless you know of a good tailor.

Come find me,

Edward





Mr. Watson, the local tailor! I ran with pink cheeks to his storefront, but the door was…locked. “No, no, no,” I muttered, pounding on the door, then peering into the dark window, where a CLOSED sign hung against the glass.

“Edward!” I called out into the foggy street. Could he be here right now, watching me from the edge of a street corner? A moment later, a man approached—Mr. Watson, with a pastry in his hands. “Sorry, miss, I just stepped out for a quick bite. How can I help…” He paused, his eyes big. “Wait, are you the one—”

“Yes!” I said, reading his mind.

He unlocked the door quickly, and handed me the next envelope.


Eloise,

Checkmate. Now it’s time for something sweet—as sweet as you. You know where to find me.

Love,

Edward





Sweet? It had to be the bakery, which grumpy old Mrs. Burbank ran. Her scones were legendary, as was her perennially foul mood. When the church bells chimed, my heart beat faster. Frank would be arriving soon. I didn’t have much time, but the bakery wasn’t far, and I picked up my pace.

When I arrived, there was a line out the door, but I elbowed my way inside to the front and waved at Mrs. Burbank. “It’s Eloise,” I said as she eyed me with indifference. “I’m here to receive my message!” The irritated man behind me mumbled something incoherent.

“Look, lady,” the disgruntled baker barked. “I don’t know what on God’s green earth you’re talking about, but if you want something to eat, get in line.”

“Oh yes, right,” I said, deflated, slowly turning to the door, which is when I saw him. He stood outside, in front of the window, like a strong ship in rough waters, his eyes wild and an enormous smile across his face.

I pushed myself through the crowd to the street outside.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes big and longing.

“Hi.”

“And so, you’ve found me.”

All I could do was smile, and take in the sight of him. He looked dapper in a pair of slacks and a light green sweater. I wondered how I must have looked, with my hair askew and beads of sweat on my forehead.

“Scone?” he said, handing me a paper bag.

I nodded, even though I was too wound up to eat. My stomach—and heart—were in knots. I searched his face. “How did you…find me? How did you know I lived…here?”

He grinned conspiratorially. “I have my ways.”

“But…I left you a note—at the club. Why didn’t you come to Jack’s that day?”

He shook his head, obviously confused. “Jack’s?”

My heart sank when I realized. “You didn’t get it, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.” He took a step closer, so close I could feel the warmth of his skin in the air. The people outside the bakery were watching, but I didn’t care.

“Oh, Eloise. I don’t know what to say. I…thought you’d…vanished into thin air. It took a bit of detective work, but I found your telephone number, and I called, a few times.”

“You did?”

“Yes, I…never did get through.” He swallowed hard. “Listen, can we go someplace to talk?”

“Okay,” I said, still stunned.

We set out down the street, at first in silence, glancing over at each other every few moments. He slipped his strong hand in mine, and our aimless path led us to Edgemore Park, where we sat together on a bench. A group of rowdy schoolchildren was embroiled in a pine cone fight in the distance.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” I said as a belligerent man ambled by. “I’m clearly not the daughter of a wealthy businessman.”

Edward grinned, lifting my hand to his lips, kissing my wrist the way he’d done on the night we met. “And you think I didn’t know that from the very start?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“You can never be anyone other than your true self, and I, for one, think you’re perfect.”

I frowned. “I’d hardly call my formative years perfect.”

He shook his head. “We aren’t defined by where we come from, but rather, who we are”—he paused to touch his heart—“inside.”

I smile. “Will you forgive me for my reprehensible fib?”

“I already have.” He exhaled deeply. “Listen, I’m sorry that things got off to a rocky start. I’d like to start over again, but properly this time.”

My mind raced, thinking of one roadblock after the next—the wedding plans, all of the meticulous preparations Frank had made. I rubbed the engagement ring on my finger nervously. I had to face the facts. “Edward, I’m…getting married, and…moving to America.”

He smiled as if this were a challenge he was willing to accept. “Well then, I’d like to implore you to stay, if I may be so presumptuous.”

I was on the verge of tears, though I couldn’t help but smile at his bravado. “But I saw you that night at Rhett’s Supper Club. I thought you were—”

“On a date? I was. With another dull debutante. She wasn’t you, Eloise. No one ever could be.”

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