Meeting Miss Mystic Read Online Free

“Waitin’ makes the heart grow fonder, wee lamb.”
    “Maggie,” Paul said, doing his best to keep his voice controlled and even. “I was a bastard for yelling at you. You and Nils are very complicated and I have no right to judge. I trust you implicitly and thank God every day for your sisterly pushiness in my quiet life. Now, please. Show. Me. The. E-mails.”
    “Well, since you asked me so sweetly…” She closed the browser and clicked on an icon on her desktop titled “Miss Mystic.” A grouping of three e-mails suddenly opened and Maggie clicked on the first one.
    Paul spent the next half hour reading the three e-mails, smiling and laughing, reading bits out loud to Maggie, who rolled her eyes more than once, even though Paul could tell she was pleased with his reaction.
    Holly Morgan was a twenty-four-year-old middle school art teacher, never married, devoted to her sister and young nephew after losing their parents years before. She lived in the same town as her sister and aunt, who had stepped in as her guardian after the loss of their parents. In fact, the picture of Holly in her white sundress had been taken at her aunt’s wedding. She liked Chinese food, painting with acrylics and Colbie Callait. She drank way too much coffee, like most of the teachers he knew, and had her favorite students, though she said she tried not to let it show.
    Paul’s breath caught when he read that her favorite vacation spot was Moosehead Lake in Maine, because it was the very place he had spent many summers as a child. What were the chances that a girl from Montana would have spent summers in Maine? But it was Holly’s answer to Maggie’s final question that had made Paul’s heart stop for a second: Holly’s favorite movie was The Princess Bride .
    That was the moment Paul fell in love with Holly Morgan.
    He ended up re-reading all three e-mails twice more before he finally figured out that Maggie was ready to say good-night.
    “So?” she asked, sidling up to the bar in the dim light of the café, her bag over her shoulder.
    He smiled at her, his hopeful heart full of gratitude for his meddling friend. “Miss Mystic is right. She’s magical, Maggie. Do you know where she is? I’m assuming somewhere up around Mystic Lake in Custer? That’s not such a bad drive. I mean, we can definitely exchange a few more e-mails to be sure she’s comfortable meeting face to face, but I’d be ready tomorrow. The sooner, the better. We’re both teachers, so maybe we could even get in a few summer dates before the start of the school yea—”
    Maggie fidgeted nervously with her keys as her face progressively turned as red as her hair.
    “Maggie? What’s wrong?”
    “I’ll forward the e-mails and log-in information tomorrow mornin’. You can take over from here.”
    She turned away, putting away the broom and shutting off the last light.
    “Maggie. Is there anything you’re not telling me? Any more confessions?”
    She shrugged sheepishly. “Distance is nothin’ if you really like someone.”
    “What exactly does that mean?”
    “Well, there might be one wee, tiny snag. It’s um, it’s just that I misread the question. Where, um, where you live . I clicked on where you’re from instead.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    She grimaced, backing away from him, toward the back door that led upstairs to her apartment, as though making an escape.
    “I should have clicked on Montana, but I clicked on Maine. The website sorted the girls regionally so Holly’s not from Montana. She’s actually from…New England. Miss Mystic isn’t about her bein’ magical or livin’ up near Custer. It’s about her livin’ in Mystic, Connecticut.”
    He watched as she slipped through the door, bolting it behind her, and he heard a muffled “Sorry!” through the door as her footsteps sprinted around the corner and up the stairs to the relative safety of her apartment.
    “Connecticut!” he exclaimed to the empty cafe. “Aw,