Solve-it-yourself mystery
Hey, Amy, how are a watch and a golf course alike?” Tom the caddy asked the concession seller.
She grinned up at him from the soda machine. Another one of Tom’s jokes. “Hmm, let me guess…they both have links?”
“You got it. Here.” Tom tossed a man’s gold watch to her, almost causing Amy to spill the soda she was filling. “I found it out on the course. There’s an inscription in it— ‘World’s Best Father.’ Wonder whose it is?”
“It’s mine!” Came a voice in line ahead of her. “Thank goodness you found it.” Peter Little stepped forward, hand outstretched toward her.
“Impossible, I lost that watch today.” Stan Simmons protested as he too approached the counter. “I took it off because I got a rash playing out there in the woods. Guess I’m not the ‘World’s Best Golfer.’” He laughed.
“You’re both lying— that watch is mine!” A tall man with the name Bruce on his polo shirt nudged the other two aside. “My watch, please.” His tone indicated the request was more of a demand.
“Uh-oh,” Tony said nervously. “You straighten this out, Amy. I’ve got to go caddy,” he said, waving backward with an apologetic shrug.
Amy clutched the watch in her hand, determined not to let any of the supposed owners see it.
“I have a break in 5 minutes. Meet me at the clubhouse, and we’ll figure it out who this belongs to.”
The golfers nodded. When the time came, Amy tried to think of how to determine the rightful party. “I’ll interview you one at a time.” She motioned for two of the men to head to the other side of the room, where they couldn’t hear.
“Mr. Little, can you describe the watch, other than the inscription?”
“Well, first of all, it’s very expensive. It was a present I received today for Father’s Day from my son, Greg. He could back me up, but he drove back to Arizona right after he gave me the present. Just so you know, the watch is actually too small for me. I put it in my pocket and drove to the jeweler’s to get some links put in it, but they’re closed today. So I came here to get in a round or two. I swear it’s mine.”
Next up was Bruce Daly. Amy could see the fading imprint of watch links on his wrist.
“It’s mine. My son gave me that watch several years ago as a token of appreciation for my putting him through college. I had to take it off today because it was throwing off my swing. Any little weight can do that, you know. And a solid gold watch is heavy.”
Amy surreptitiously hefted the watch in her jacket pocket. It was indeed several ounces.
Finally Stan Simmons came, a big smile on his face.
“I can’t tell you what this means to me. My daughter will be so relieved that I got her present back. It’ll mean the world to her.”
“You said something about taking it off because of a rash you had?”
“Yes, look.” Here the golfer held out both of his wrists which were red and scratched. He pulled out a small bottle of itch relief from his pocket and applied it.
“Funny, this has never happened here before. I’m not usually an allergic guy, but something irritated me so bad that I had to take off the watch and put it in my pocket. If you’ll just return it to me now, that would be great. I’d really like to get in another nine holes or so.”
“Let me just make a quick phone call to the pro shop to ask a question, and then I’ll get right back to you.” Here, Amy turned her back, walked a few feet away and pulled out her phone. After a minute, she turned back to the three waiting men, to alert the owner.
Q: Who did the watch belong to?
flyer. “We’re having a Father’s Day program that might be fun for you and Lily.”
“Daddy and Daughter Hair Styling?” he smiled, gazing into Rosie’s beautiful eyes.
“A hairstylist runs the program, and librarians volunteer as helpers,” Rosie explained. “We teach the dads how to make different styles. Braids, ponytails…”
“Buns?” He felt silly just saying the word. “Lily wants one for ballet class.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound that made his heart flow over with longing. “We can teach you. I’ll add your names to the list.”
On Father’s Day, Jason proudly wore the “World’s Best Dad” pin that Lily had made at story hour. He couldn’t help ribbing “Miss Rosie” when they arrived at the class and he saw that all the men had them.
“You know we can’t all be the best, right, Rosie?” he grinned.
“Well, to your children, you are.” They’d become more comfortable with each other in the past few weeks, and he was glad. And when their shared glance held long enough to make Rosie blush, he was glad about that too.
“Are you going to be Daddy’s teacher, Miss Rosie?” Lily asked.
“I hope so,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. “She knows how to make a bun.”
Rosie nodded confidently at Lily. “I took ballet lessons for 10 years, so I’m an expert.”
Jason was so excited at the idea of an hour with Rosie that he had to force himself to concentrate when she demonstrated how to comb Lily’s hair into a high ponytail, then released it to let Jason try.
“I’ve got this.” Sure enough, it was the neatest one he’d ever made.
“Now a bun!” Rosie said, demonstrating how to wind and pin the sections.
Their hands touched as she moved closer to him, and he heard a catch in her breathing—the same sound she’d made the night he’d leaned in to kiss her.
When Lily saw her perfect bun in the mirror, she hopped off the stool and embraced Rosie around the waist.
Laughing, she stooped down and gave her a proper hug. “We still have to show your dad how to make a braid.”
“And then we’re going for ice cream! Will you come with us, Miss Rosie?”
“Yes, please come,” Jason said, smiling down at Rosie, hope surging in his chest.
She looked up at him over Lily’s head. “But what about the timing?”
He didn’t hesitate as he locked eyes with her. “We’re ready for you, Rosie,” he said softly. “We both are.”