As I walk into my local library, I notice that Mrs. Street or Linda as I had come to know her was behind the counter. She has been a fixture here since the opening over 30 years ago. I moved to the small town when I was 18.. As I have been coming in a couple times a month, I knew her quite well. In fact, she was the first to welcome me here. I really didn't know anyone when I first arrived. She kind of felt sympathetic for me. She would invite me over to her house for dinner and we would talk about our passion for books. I can remember many nights talking about our favorites. Her husband had passed a few years before I moved here and though very beautiful she never remarried. Even though I was almost 20 years younger, she often drove me crazy. At work she wore very conservative clothes. At home she let her hair down. One day drinking some wine and talking about the latest book we were reading, I accidentally knocked over my glass. The wine poured onto my pants. Seeing that the book had
