Ladies' Man Read Free Page B

standing there with his heart in his throat, praying that she would believe him, praying that she would…what? Go home with him? That wasn’t going to happen. She was waiting for someone, and
he
was waiting for someone, and…
    Sam saw Alma. She was wearing a bright red raincoat—exactly as T.S. had described her. Except, wait a minute. There was no way this woman was nearly ninety years old, was there? She
was
about five feet tall, the way T.S. had said, and she
was
wearing a navy blue sweat suit under her raincoat, the way T.S. had said, but this woman couldn’t have been a day over seventy, if that.
    Still, the woman in the raincoat was looking around as if uncertain as to who exactly was meeting her.
    “Excuse me,” Sam said to Ellen, sidling his way through the crowd to approach the older woman. Ellen was still holding his police badge, so he had to believe that she wouldn’t just disappear on him. At least, he hoped she wouldn’t. “Are you Alma?” he asked the woman in the red raincoat.
    “Yes, I am,” she said, giving him a broad smile. “And that must make you T. S. Harrison, my
favorite
author. Zounds, am I thrilled to meet you!”
    “Alma? It
is
you.”
    Sam turned in surprise to see Ellen enfold the diminutive older woman in an embrace.
    “Ellen! Bobby told me you had some sort of acting class,” Alma exclaimed. “What a surprise to see you here!”
    “I have an even bigger surprise for you,” Ellen said, her brown eyes sparkling as she smiled at the elderly woman.
    Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer. “
You’re
here to meet Alma?
I’m
here to meet Alma.” He turned to Alma. “And you can’t be Alma—Alma’s eighty-nine years old. You’re too young.”
    “Fiddlesticks,” Alma was saying to Ellen. “What could be a bigger surprise than having dinner with my favorite author?” She smiled at Sam. “Thanks for the compliment, young man, but I’m definitely Alma Osborne. And you can check my driver’s license for my age if you want.”
    “She’s going to be ninety next May,” Ellen told him. “Longevity runs in the family.”
    “You’ve gone blond,” Alma said to Ellen. “Let me look at you.”
    “Something came over me last winter,” Ellen admitted, “and I decided to start the new year as a blonde—in hopes of having more fun.”
    “I like it,” Alma proclaimed. “It works for me.”
    “Works for me too,” Sam murmured.
    “Did you two come together to meet my plane?” Alma asked.
    There was confusion in Ellen’s dark eyes. “
You’re
here to meet Alma too?” she said to Sam.
    “Do you know who this is?” Alma asked her, pointing at Sam.
    “His name’s Sam.” Ellen glanced down at the police badge she still held in her hands. “Detective Samuel Schaefer.” She handed it back to him. “Right?”
    “Maybe Sam Schaefer is his given name,” Alma told her, “but his pen name is T. S. Harrison. Bobby told me he’d made arrangements for T. S. Harrison to meet my plane, and here he is.”

TWO

    U m,” said Sam, hesitating as he tried to figure out the best way to explain without too badly disappointing the elderly woman.
    “
You’re
T. S. Harrison?” Ellen was looking at him as if she’d been suddenly struck by lightning. She was clearly impressed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    Now, this was definitely tricky. While Sam enjoyed the wonder and respect that he could see in Ellen’s eyes, the last thing he wanted to do was pretend he was something or someone he was not. And as close as they were, he was
not
T.S.
    “Well, if you want to know the truth,” he started, but was quickly drowned out.
    “Alma!” Bob Osborne, surrounded by a team of bodyguards, swept down upon them. “Look at you! You look gorgeous, you old thing, you. How the
hell
are you?”
    “Bobby! You’re supposed to be in Boston!”
    “This is your surprise.” Ellen was beaming at Alma as Bob swept the tiny woman into his arms and gave her a solid kiss on the