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“Watch him, he’s a shark,” Emily says. The elf laughs and says she will. Emily shows her back to the door. “Do you have more stops to make?”
“A couple,” says the elf, and points to her bike at the end of the walk. A cooler, presumably holding two more cellophane-wrapped plates of canapes and two more sixpacks, has been bungee-corded to the package carrier. “I’m glad it’s warm enough to bicycle. Professor, this was such a fantastic idea!”
“Thank you, dear. Very kind of you to say.”
The elf gives Emily a shy side-glance. “I took your Early American Writers the year before you retired. That was an awesome class.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“And this year I finally decided to apply for the workshop. You know, the Writer’s Workshop? You’ll probably come across my submission, if you’re reading them for Mr. Stratton—”
“I am, but if you’re applying for the fall semester next year, I think we’ll have somebody new.” She lowers her voice. “We’ve asked Jim Shepard, although I doubt if he’ll agree to come.”
“That would be amazing, but I probably won’t make the cut, anyway. I’m not very good.”
Em pretends to cover her ears. “I pay no attention to what writers say about their work. It’s what the work says about the writer that matters.”
“Oh. I suppose that’s very true. Well, I better get going. Enjoy your party!”
“We will,” Em says. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Bonnie,” the elf says. “Bonnie Dahl.”
“Do you ride your bike everywhere?”
“Except in bad weather. I have a car, but I love my bike.”
“Very aerobic. Do you live close by?”
“I have a little condo apartment by the lake. I work at the Reynolds and pick up other work—odd jobs, like—when I can.”
“Should you be looking for another odd job in the near future, I might have something you could help me with.” She wonders if Bonnie’s response will be awesome or amazing.
“Really? That would be awesome!”
“Are you computer-friendly? Working in the library, you must be. I can hardly turn mine on without Roddy to help me.” Emily speaks this lie with a disarming smile.
“I can’t fix them, but work with them, sure!”
“May I have your number, just in case? No promises, mind.”
Bonnie complies happily. Em could put it in her iPhone contacts as quick as winking, but in her current persona as a computer illiterate, she scratches it on a napkin featuring a dancing and obviously inebriated St. Nick and the words HAPPY HOLIDAZE!
“Merry Christmas, Bonnie. Perhaps I’ll see you again.”
“Cool! Merry Christmas!”
She goes down the walk. Emily closes the door and looks at Roddy.
“Nice legs,” he says.
“Dream on, Lothario,” she replies, and they both laugh.
“Not only an elf, an aspiring writer,” Roddy says.
Em snorts. “Awesome. Cool. Amayyyzing. I doubt if she could write an original sentence if someone put a gun to her head. But it’s not her brains we’d be interested in. Would we?”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Roddy says, and they both laugh some more.
