A pretty, red-haired lady in her fifties came in the next morning. My bookstore was full of tourists and people from town. We were having a rare rainy summer day, which was excellent for me. We were selling salted caramel chocolate cake, and we had two popular tea specials: Jasmine and Peppermint.

We were busy at the café, and we were busy at the cash register. I loved days like this and I couldn’t wait to go home. There are few things better than reading on a rainy day while drinking coffee and eating pie, which is what I wanted to do.

The woman was striking, with light blue eyes and a lopsided smile that showed a lot of teeth. She was wearing jeans, a pink Windbreaker, and pink tennis shoes. I felt the oddest sensation when we started chatting about books, then I felt a premonition slide on through.... She was going to meet a man. I saw the man, slowly, coming into view in my mind. They were going to fall in love. They would be together for a long time . . . until they died. They would be old then.... I saw them with white hair, wrinkled.

I kept chatting with her; she wanted nonfiction. I suggested a few . . . and then I saw a man in the science fiction section. He was about fifty, too. Windblown hair. Looked as if he’d spent a lifetime outside. He was taller than her, trim . . . yes, it was him. She would meet him.

Was I supposed to help? Was it supposed to happen today?

Well, I thought, why not?

I couldn’t miss this chance. Maybe I was the catalyst. Maybe I was the fixer-upper. Maybe I was Cupid! Evie Cupid, that’s me.

I chatted with her; she found her book. I chatted with him; he found three, and they both ended up at the register at the same time because of sneaky finagling by me. The gentleman let her go first; they smiled at each other. And I saw it, their gazes held for a smidgen longer than normal. It was interest.

I rang her up and said to them both, “Well, one of you likes nonfiction and one of you likes science fiction.” It was an inane comment. A nothing comment. But it opened the door to conversation. Book lovers are all alike. They are always so interested in what other people are reading, and why.

I finished her purchase while they were still talking about the nonfiction books she had chosen, then they moved on to his science fiction books. She had never read science fiction, but she would be willing to try. What was that book about? Oh, he was happy to tell her. But tell me about your interest in the Vietnam War. Why that time period?