Suzannes Diary for Nicholas | Page 11 of 77

Author: James Patterson | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 126205 Views | Add a Review

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olfe was even handsomer than I remembered him. At thirty-seven, he had grown up very nicely.

He was slender, with closely cropped brown hair and an endearing smile. He looked in great shape. We talked on the side of the road. He had become a lawyer for the Environmental Protection Agency as well as a fine-arts dealer. I had to laugh when he told me that. Matt used to joke that he would never become an entremanure, as he called businesspeople back then.

He wasn't surprised to learn that I was a doctor. What surprised Matt was that I wasn't with someone, that I had come back to Martha's Vineyard alone.

We continued to catch up on each other's life. He was funny, easy to talk to. When I had dated Matt, he was eighteen, I was sixteen. That was the last year my grandparents had rented for the summer on the Vineyard--but obviously, I never forgot the island or its many treasures. I'd been having dreams about the ocean and the beaches on the Vineyard ever since I could remember.

I think we were both a little disappointed to see the bright yellow Shell tow truck pull in behind us. I know that I was. Just before I turned to go, Matt mumbled a few words about how nice this was--my flat tire. Then he asked me what I was doing Saturday night.

I think I blushed. I know I did. “You mean a date?”

“Yes, Suzanne, a date. Now that I've seen you again, I'd like to see you again.”

I told Matt I would love to see him on Saturday. My heart was pounding a little, and I took that to be a very good sign.


Who the heck was sitting on my porch? As I drove up late that same afternoon, I couldn't really tell.

It couldn't be the electric guy, or the phone guy, or the cable guy--I'd seen all of them the day before.

Nope, it was the painting guy, the one who was going to help me with everything around the cottage that needed a ladder or an outlet or a finish.

We walked around the cottage as I pointed out several of the problems I'd inherited: windows that wouldn't close, floors that buckled at the door, a leak in the bathroom, a broken pump, a cracked gutter, and a whole cottage that needed scraping and painting.

What this house had in cute, it lacked in practical.

But this guy was great, took notes, asked pertinent questions, and told me he could fix everything by the millennium. The next millennium. We struck a deal on the spot (which gave me the distinct feeling I'd made out pretty good).

Suddenly life was looking a lot better to me. I had a new practice that I loved, I had a house-painter with a good reputation, and I had a hot date with Matt.

When I was finally alone in my little cottage by the sea, I threw up both arms and shouted hooray.

Then I said, “Matt Wolfe. Hmmm. Imagine that. How terrific. How very cool.”


Just about everybody has an occasional fantasy about somebody they really liked in high school, or maybe even grade school, co

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Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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