Ark of a Love Affair

by

Calpurnia Lupin

 

The things in this shoebox are the sort of things I'd tell my grandchildren about. That is, if I was ever going to have any. I'd tell Fred's grandchildren, but I doubt he'd want them hearing the stories. So that leaves me with you, dear readers. Please imagine that you are a good grandchildren--like age, say seven or eight. For some of you, this is an easier job than for others.

The box has a lot of things:  mementos from days gone by, some with stories of derring-do, others with stories of luck, others with stories--

Lying on top is a cocktail napkin, a piece of paper that had fallen from the pocket of some client or 'guest' or other in the study-- or more likely, was set on Wolfe's desk and forgotten, never retrieved. The reason it was out in the first place was that some bored or nervous soul, made to wait there, was sketching an orchid.

I'm glad that whoever it was left it behind, because it has since been put to good use. You see, the--relationship, between myself and Wolfe had changed -for the better, in my not-so- humble opinion - and things being as they were, we'd taken a night to think about it. I was called out the next day, at a time both early and inopportune, to talk to a witness with no other available time slot.

Before I went, I found the napkin, a note on it, while Wolfe was up being undisturbable with the orchids.

AG-
Remember what I told you yesterday,
or be dealt with accordingly upon your return.
                                                -NW

Post Script- Also, do not do anything foolish which might lead to
your untimely demise, as I would be most inconvenienced.
Yours.

I swear to God those were the exact words, and I'll swear just as much that they meant nothing short of 'I love you'. It may not seem as such to someone not acquainted with Wolfe, but that's what he meant.

I placed the napkin reverently back in its place and closed the shoebox. I'll come back to it again, and I may even relate the events, but now is not the time. I'm starting to go all misty, and it's not a look I particularly like to wear.

 

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