A Journey by Chance by Sally John

skip what he looked like in his tweeds…disheveled wavy hair, black sprinkled with silver…brown-black eyes…calm voice…gentle mannerisms. The fact that he was a widower with no children. The way he simply listened!
    â€œHow old is he?” Marsha interrupted her reverie.
    â€œReece’s age. Fifty-six. The third time we bumped into each other was at a local family-type restaurant. I eat there often because lone diners don’t stick out like a sore thumb, and everyone is friendly.” She blew out a noisy breath. “I guess the third time was the proverbial charm. We met there again, sort of by accident, and then we planned on it once aweek or so. We’ve browsed through bookstores and art galleries and that’s all. Neither of us wants more.”
    â€œYet. There’s a yet in your tone.”
    â€œYet,” she conceded, then laughed disparagingly. “I’m supposed to use this time back here to figure out who I am. I don’t even know if I’m Maggie or Margaret. I need to be quiet for a while, come to grips with some old ghosts. Then maybe I can get a handle on what comes next.”
    â€œWhat do you want to come next?”
    â€œI don’t really know.” She saw pain etched in her sister’s profile. “There’s absolutely no physical contact.”
    â€œBut your hearts have connected.” A tear trickled from the corner of Marsha’s eye.
    â€œOur hearts have connected,” Maggie whispered. “He is my best friend.”
    Marsha wiped at her eyes, blinking to keep them focused on the highway before her. “This is dangerous territory, hon.”
    She nodded. “And I am petrified.”

    The next morning Maggie tapped softly on Gina’s door, then peeked inside.
    â€œI’m awake,” Gina mumbled from under the covers. “Mmm, do I smell coffee?” She yawned and stretched.
    â€œYou do.” Maggie slipped open the shades while Gina plumped pillows and sat up. Morning sunlight streamed through the two open windows. Warm air chased away last night’s coolness, promising rising temperatures today. She handed her daughter a mug of coffee, kissed her forehead, then sat beside her on the bed. “You must have had a late night.”
    â€œThanks. No, just a long day. A really long day. What is this?” She inhaled the steaming liquid and took a sip. Her eyes widened. “Mom! This is real coffee!”
    Maggie smiled. She still loved surprising her daughter, still loved watching her wake up in the morning on rare occasions such as this. Her tousled hair framed her face, a lovely feminine version of her father’s with strong chin, olive skin, and striking dark brows that accented her green eyes. “Aunt Marsha and I went up the interstate to shop at some boutique-type places. Lo and behold, I found a Starbucks.”
    â€œMmm. It’s great. Did you find a purple dress with red flowers?”
    â€œI did. It’s absolutely wild. My sister may disown me if I wear it to the wedding, but it’s perfect for the reunion. What did you think of Chicago?”
    â€œI loved Chicago! So exciting. It was the perfect antidote to Podu—excuse me. Valley Oaks. Look in that shopping bag. I bought Lauren some towels she liked. We didn’t have a shower gift, did we?”
    â€œGood idea.” She admired the towel set, then pulled out a book. “What? Oh my goodness. Brady Olafsson?” She turned it over and gasped at the resemblance to his father, Neil.
    â€œDo you believe it? Do you believe we didn’t even know?”
    â€œMarsha never mentioned that he’s an author. This looks like a major publication.”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œInteresting. How did you get along with him?”
    â€œWell.” Gina looked out the window.
    Maggie sat back down. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Is the chip still there on his shoulder?”
    â€œDelilah died.” She