Her Immortal Love Read Free Page B

conferences on the mind/body connection were taped to the wall. They’d probably been kept for their artistic value since all of them were months out-of-date. Recently delivered boxes of merchandise lined the walls and covered the floor. At some point she and Elaine, the store’s other employee, would open them up and inventory them.
    “What? No, I told you, Mother, I’m not interested in learning how to play bridge.”
    Her mother had been trying for months to get her to join her bridge club, which consisted of wealthy widows in their seventies like herself. All the women did as they played cards was complain about their investment portfolios, the current state of the world (which was always terrible and getting worse), their ungrateful children, and their maids and/or gardeners who refused to learn to speak decent English and who were, or so the women claimed, either stealing from them or plotting to do them in.
    Lydia used her foot to push the door to the storeroom open a bit wider. The sound of voices from the front of the store came through a bit clearer. She had ten minutes left on her break but if it got too busy, she didn’t want to leave Elaine out there all alone to handle it. But so far it didn’t sound terribly hectic.
    She switched the cell phone to her other ear. When she did a man’s voice, low but melodic, flowed towards her from the front of the store.
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    She’d heard a voice like that before. Two weeks ago, in the pulsing darkness of a campus club.
    “Mother, I have to go. Yes, now. I’m at work and I—” She could no longer hear the man’s voice. “Goodbye, Mother.”
    She thumbed off her cell phone and pushed it into the pocket of her slacks. She hurried out of the backroom and to the front of the store. It was empty except for Elaine, who was arranging crystals on a shelf.
    “Was someone just here?” Lydia asked.
    Elaine turned towards her. “Is your break over already?”
    “Was a man just here?”
    Elaine stared at her then a smile broke across her pixyish face. “Oh, yeah. Sir Lancelot.”
    Lydia blinked. “Who?”
    “That’s what I call him. He’s soooo handsome. He reminds me of Lancelot du Lac.”
    Elaine was obsessed with anything Arthurian. She’d seen every movie and read every book about King Arthur. She claimed that her mother had named her after the two Elaines from the Arthur stories; Elaine of Astolat, who had hopelessly loved Lancelot, and the Elaine who gave birth to Lancelot's son, Galahad.
    “What did he look like?”
    Elaine tilted her head, her blonde, chin-length hair brushing across her cheek. “Well, he's tall. Gorgeous. Nice body.” She grinned mischievously, her green eyes lighting up. “Very nice body. Really hot—”
    Lydia must have made a face because Elaine quickly went on with the rest of her description.
    “Black hair. Dark blue eyes.” She frowned. “No, they’re more indigo. Or a kind of twilight blue. Or maybe a—”
    Lydia moved past her.
    “Hey, where are you going?” Elaine cried.
    “I’ll be right back.”
    Lydia flew through the front door of the store. Once she was outside, she looked up and down the sidewalk. There was no sign of Tristan. That is, if it had in fact been him. But the voice she’d heard and the way Elaine had described him.
    It had to be him.
    But which way had he gone? She doubted Elaine would have noticed. The windows of the store were covered with advertisements and posters so it was difficult to see the outside from where the cash register was located.
    She turned to her right. As it was a Saturday afternoon and an unseasonably warm day for early fall, the downtown sidewalks were teeming with shoppers and students from the nearby campus. She was forced to maneuver her way through the crowd, avoiding baby carriages and leashed dogs. Tristan was quite tall so she hoped she’d be able to spot his head over the crowd.
    There was no sign of him.
    She stopped. She’d probably gone the