Dennis felt like he’d been hit with a bolt of lightning. This was meant to happen. He wanted to shout out his good news. Who should he tell first, Ted, his idol at the paper, or Harry who he considered a big brother?

Dennis was saved from a decision when Rosalee asked him to tell her about himself. He made quick work on the tale of his life, ending with, “I’m just a reporter. I love gathering news and sharing it. Someday, I hope to be as good as Ted and Maggie.” He purposely did not divulge his inheritance or how very, very wealthy he actually was. That was for another time. Then again, maybe never. Only time would tell.

“I’ve read some of your stuff in the papers. That was all Amalie and I had in the way of leisure activities while we were in the . . . ah . . . program—reading. You have a way with words. I think you must love your job to write so convincingly. What’s it like, Dennis, going to work at a job you really and truly love? I liked my job with Amalie. I didn’t like her husband, and I certainly didn’t love that big old mansion they lived in either. It was cold and . . . I don’t know the word. Help me out here, Dennis, your command of the English language is better than mine.”

Dennis flushed and basked in Rosalee’s praise. He did love his job, he loved it with his whole being, and he loved the people he worked with and the people who were now his other family. “I think what you want to say is there was no warmth or sense of family in the structure where you worked and lived for a while. You could live in a run-down shack, but if there’s love and warmth, the condition of the building really doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, yes, exactly. My mother’s house is full to overflowing. There is stuff everywhere. Mind you, it is not dirty; you could eat off my mother’s floors. My family lives in the house. A house takes on the personality of the people who live in it. My family laughs and sings and cooks and cleans. It’s how we live. I so miss that. Growing up, we had triple-decker bunk beds, two sets to each bedroom. And, somehow, we still had plenty of room.”

Dennis could feel himself blushing, but for the first time, he didn’t care if anyone saw his red cheeks and ears or not.

And in that moment in time, on a beautiful summer day in July at 1:07 in the afternoon, Dennis West fell in love with a dark-haired, dark-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl named Rosalee Muno.