What It Means to Fall in Love

"Sir, this is very kind of you," said the elderly man, "but I'd feel more comfortable if..."

"Did you enjoy this?" he asked the woman as he handed her the book

.

"Very much. Did you read it?

"

"He wrote it." It was Spence, smiling, looking over the top of the limo from the driver's side. Alex had a special relationship with Spence. Spence was perhaps the only person he worked with who was neither afraid of him nor disliked him—perhaps because he served Alex when he was tired and at his most vulnerable. Whatever the reason, Alex liked him and was touched by the obvious pride which his friend took in promoting Alex's book and he smiled warmly at Spence.

"Noooo. Really?" She turned the book over to look at Alex's furrowed brow on the back cover. "You're Alex Thorndyke?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She scrutinized him briefly and her eyes widened.

"Goodness gracious, it is you. Would you please...?"

She held out the book, clearly hoping for an autograph.

"Certainly," said Alex, signing his name on the inside cover with great flourish. "Now, please, take my limo. It's safer and it's faster."

"Oh, how lovely," said the woman and without hesitation, she climbed into the back seat.

"Helen!" the old man grumbled. "Look, mister big shot, I..."

"The back seat is really soft...."

"John, get in, it's lovely. And it smells so nice," said the woman.

"...and there's a partition," offered Alex.

Befuddled for a moment, the old man looked at Spence, who winked.

"What is that smell, I know it's familiar but..." the woman's voice trailed off.

"I see," said the gentleman who suddenly smiled shyly. "Well, if you say so."

He lowered himself into the back seat. Alex closed the door behind him and instructed Spence to meet him back at the same spot at 3 p.m.

"What are you going to do, Mr. Thorndyke?"

"I don't know...Enjoy myself?"

"It's about time," countered Spence as he smiled and got in the car.

Alex watched the limo drive off before walking into the heart of Greenwich Village.