It had been one of those mornings you hope never happens. Bob, driving to the beach for a little rest and relaxation, was rear ended by Ms. Libby Randall, and his car’s trunk pushed up to the back doors. He and Ms. Randall, although shaken up in the accident, escaped serious injuries. It took some convincing, but Bob finally persuaded Libby to join him for lunch, at Mario’s restaurant.
 
Mario's was crowded. A long line of people wound down the sidewalk waiting to get inside.

Through the window, a heavy-set man wearing a long white apron motioned and mouthed his lips for Bob and his guest to cut through the alleyway.

Bob grabbed Libby's hand, catching her by surprise, and led her around back. The apron-clad man, whom she soon learned to be Mario, stood waiting to greet and usher them in the back door with his welcoming smile.

"Hello, Bobby boy, so good to see you," Mario said, as he wrapped his bulging muscled arm around Bob's neck and flexed his grizzly physique, almost snatching him out of his shoes. The traditional Italian exchange of hugs, pats, and kisses on the cheeks made their deep friendship obvious.

Then, Mario stared Libby up and down and asked, "And who, may I ask, is this beautiful creature you have with you, Bobby?”

"Mario, I would like you to meet Ms. Libby Randall. Ms. Randall, this is my good friend, Mario Bosco, the owner of this establishment.”

Bob and Mario exchanged winks to acknowledge the superiority of the prize. It’s a guy thing, the need for another corrival's approval of his pursuit. Disrespect unintended, the demeanor of both men changed as soon as they noticed the glare of distaste on Libby’s face.

"The big dining room in the back isn't normally open for lunch, Bobby. However, for my special friends, you two head on in and take any table you like. Would either of you kids care for a drink before lunch . . . or maybe tea, coffee, or a soft drink of some kind?"

It wasn't long before the server brought two iced teas and took orders. Bob and Libby spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon getting to know each other.

Once lunch was done, they decided to have a few of Mario's special concoctions for the beach, called Rum Boogies. They are the bomb, everyone seems to agree, filled with crushed ice, concentrated Limeade, and a variety of blended fruits mixed with an over-generous portion of Angostura rum. The mixture of cool and sweet disguises the wallop.

They were having fun, and this time when Bob asked Libby if she might like to join him and spend the rest of the day at the beach, she accepted without hesitation.
__________
 
The sky was clear and the sun was hot. A slight breeze was all that made the humidity bearable.

Bob positioned rubber floats on top of chaise lounges for extra padding, and they snuggled into the comfy-butt chairs sitting under a giant umbrella. They laughed, talked, and enjoyed watching tourists play in the waves, and a few bump and grinders dancing to the beats.

Toucan's beach-hut bar serves the best Margaritas and Pina Coladas on the beach. Chrissie, so bubbly and cute, made sure that Bob and Libby's glasses stayed full.

At first, it was difficult to talk and hear over the loud-thumping sound system, but the nice mix of Bob Marley’s reggae tunes and the Drifter’s old-time “Under the Boardwalk” beach music, turned the annoyance into fun.
    
Time passed too quickly, and before they knew it, the sun was going down.  Intoxicated, well past a buzz, they had catnapped and hee-hawed the day away.

Mutual attraction had grown between them. They touched and played like children—barely able to keep their hands off each other—touchy, feely, pinching and patting at every chance. Walks in the sand, hand-in-hand on the surf's edge, stopping often to hug or kick and splash in the breaker’s foam.
 
Laugh lines, crow’s feet, and graying black hair, heavier at the temples, gave evidence to the significant age difference between Bob and Libby.

At fifty-two years old, Bob suspected Libby to be at least ten years younger, and possibly twenty. He could only hope she wasn’t age conscious.

He had enjoyed himself more today than in years, and planned to do everything in his power to keep it from ending.

"Libby, I truly don't want this day to end." Bob waited . . . but Libby was silent. So, he continued with, "What I'm trying to say is . . . would you like to stay at the beach with me tonight?” Realizing his words hadn’t come out the way he had meant, he reiterated.  “What I mean is—so that we can do this all over again tomorrow?"

After an awkward pause, Libby finally gave a cautious reply. "Well . . . I don't know what to say, Bob.”

"Please don't misunderstand me Libby. I'm not asking you to sleep with me. Both of those condos that sit side by side are mine. He pointed them out to her. "We can have a nice dinner this evening and turn in early. You sleep in one and I'll stay in the other. Then, in the morning, after a nice breakfast, we can spend another sunny day on the beach before I have to get back to the old grind at work."

"Well . . . I just—"

"Please." Bob said, like a little boy begging.

Libby was in no hurry to answer, and it was hard to tell if her pink cheeks were from the sun or embarrassment. Then, she surprised both of them with her answer.

"You know, Bob . . . I'm a little shocked at myself . . . but why not? I've had fun today. You are a sweetheart and a gentleman, and I think I'd be glad to spend another day."

"Okay, Great! There's an outlet mall about three miles up the road. We can pick up a quick change of clothes. Casual is always appropriate in this area. We'll head in, wash up a bit, and I'll take you to the finest restaurant on the island. That is if it sounds good to you?"

"Sounds wonderful, Bob . . . I'm starving."
__________
 
Both were showered, dressed, and ready to go within the hour. They spent a wonderful evening laughing and enjoying seafood delicacies of a four-star feast, made reservations to go sailing in the morning, and decided to make it an early night, not wanting it to interfere with tomorrow’s big day.

Bob walked Libby to the door of the condominium where she was staying. They stood silent, face-to-face. Then, after what seemed like minutes, he squeezed her hands, gave her a polite kiss, and wished her a goodnight before walking away.

Within fifteen yards, he turned and looked back, pretending to see her in safely. In truth, he was more curious to know if she was watching. He was delighted to catch her blowing him a kiss, just as she stepped inside and closed the door.

Bob lay awake for about an hour or more with the anticipation of a child on Christmas Eve, but when he finally fell asleep, he was dead to the world.

__________


The following morning, Bob awoke to blinding rays of sunlight shining through the left edge of the shades, and directly in his eyes. Once he got his bearings, he bounced out of bed and ran to the bathroom, ready to get the day started.

He sat down on the bed and opened the drawer to the bedside nightstand, where he vaguely remembered putting his wallet and car keys. They weren't there.

Scratching his head and considering why he would do something so out of the ordinary, he had to admit that the previous night’s indulgence had racked his brain. Hammered, best described his condition and solidified that his belongings could be most anywhere.

He walked over by the desk, grabbed his trousers from the chair and checked his pockets, which were empty. There had to be an explanation. He must have hidden them somewhere. However, he was fresh out of ideas for the time being.
  
He ran to the front door and looked outside. His car was gone. Then, he ran next door and knocked for about ten minutes. When Libby didn’t answer, he returned to his bedroom and sat for over an hour, just waiting and thinking, expecting Libby to pull in any moment to surprise him with breakfast.
 
Then, realizing for the first time how odd it was that his phone hadn't rung since yesterday morning, he remembered leaving it in the dash glove box.

He walked to a neighbor’s to borrow a phone, and lucky for him, they were home. The first place he called was his office. There were forty-three messages, the last seven being from Officer Watson.

As he listened to the first message, it said, "Mr. Martin, this is Officer Watson. I am sorry to alarm you, but we have just learned that the Libby Randall, who rear-ended you yesterday, is not Libby Randall. She is a fugitive, wanted in at least nine states for grand-theft auto and robbery. Please call me at your earliest convenience."

Bob's knees went weak and he sat down quickly to keep from falling. His car, wallet with fifteen-hundred dollars, credit cards and pictures that he could never replace, were gone. Yet, the hardest part of all, was finding out that his dream girl and visions of happiness were no more than a sham.

Bob called Al, a friend from the office, to give him a ride home. All the way, Al tried to make conversation, but Bob was so overwhelmed with disappointment, he was at a loss for words.

As they arrived and pulled up to the curb in front of his house, there sat his car in the driveway. Bob walked over and looked in the driver-side window and there was a “Thank You” card in the seat, with a note inside, that read:

Dear Bob,
I memorized this address off your driver’s license while the cop was taking down your information. My intentions were to rob you. However, once I got here, I couldn’t do it. Unfortunately, neither can I change the choices that I have made in the past. You will find your wallet, money, and keys on the coffee table in the living room. I hope you have a spare key. I would just like to thank you for a wonderful day! I will never forget our day together. It will always be special to me, and under different circumstances, you could have been my handsome hero, the knight of every girl’s dreams.

Bob tilted the huge planter on the right side of his porch and pulled out his extra key. He walked in the house, sat on the couch and counted the money in his wallet. Every dollar was there.

He leaned over, opened the end-table drawer, took out the local business phone book, thumbed over to private detectives and called the number with the biggest advertisement, then the next. . . the next. . . and then another. He hired four different detectives to find this woman, a woman whose name he didn’t even know.

As foolish as it might seem to other people, Bob had worked the last thirty years, day and night, to become wealthy and successful, foregoing every chance at happiness.

Therefore, he made the first snap decision in his life, and that was to find, whatever her name was, before the police got her. He had the means to take her far away and start a new life. He did not intend to live out his old age miserable and alone.