The Secret Admirer Next Door (Love Next Door Series Book 1) *Editing*

Chapter 4

Abe stood at his dresser mirror, fastening the final button on his light blue dress shirt. It had been a long time since he'd dressed up, outside of when he was going to church, but this was a special occasion nonetheless.

He was having dinner with his favorite girls. Excitement bellowed in his gut as he thought about seeing the girls he practically helped raise. Joyce and Daniel had already done an exceptional job while they were with them, and after their deaths, he'd done the best he could to provide what their children needed, be it advice, money or just a listening ear.

The advice and the listening ear were the easiest to offer when Valarie had her say. Her mother had taught her right about accepting charities from men. The Davison's neighbor Mildred also helped enforce their late parents' wishes whenever she came around. He'd known from all of the stink-eyes he'd been given whenever she'd seen him with any of the sisters. Innocent as it always was, even before the Davisons moved in he had known she never really cared for him. He never understood why, he'd accepted that some people weren't meant to gel together. She was a grumpy old woman, but she helped the girls. The entire town did, and that was all that mattered. And Abe himself never wanted anything more than to make his next-door neighbors' princesses smile.

If it had been a prom dress, school clothes or anything he could provide, he had. Nothing about that would ever change. He loved them all like daughters, but there had always been a difference with Val. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was more of a distant respect. 

Val was the independent one and older than the other girls. He'd seen her coming and going then head off the college before the accident.

He'd really gotten acquainted with her when they'd petitioned the courts to give her—and technically, Abe—guardianship over the girls. That was when Abe had offered anything he could. Even then, she'd hardly come by. Mostly, the younger girls had come by and asked for things. He hadn't really been gotten to know Valarie until after she'd moved back.

He'd offered her a job that she'd reluctantly taken, and she'd thanked him for keeping up their house free of charge. It was as if she'd realized his attentions were genuine, and he sought her break down her walls. Somewhere along the way, his heart had taken a new approach.

It conflicted him. When the emotions had become too much to bear, he'd started writing letters and poems then leaving them in her mailbox. It had given him an outlet. The only problem was one day he'd have to tell Valarie the truth.

He prayed she'd fine love again, and then he would be off the hook. She'd most likely forget about his stupid letters. It was possible they were at the bottom her trashcan, unopened and unread. Again, he could hope.

What if Valarie felt the same way he did? What if she had read the letters, knowing it was him, and was waiting for him to make his move? What if she was secretly hoping it was him?

What if he was only kidding himself? He sighed. The more he rationalized the more he felt a knife of guilt twisting in his chest.

His eyes trailed to a small box on his dresser. That box hadn't moved since the last time his Liv had touched it. More guilt flooded him as he placed his hand gently over it, hoping his beloved wife's spirit would tell him what to do.

He looked in the mirror again and forced his eyes to linger. He studied the deep creases in his face. His hair, mustache and eyebrows were flecked with gray. More confirmation. He was old. She'd never see him the way he saw her.

He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at his dress shirt. Then he hustled downstairs, grabbing his jacket, keys and the bottle of wine for his hostess. It was a friendly gesture as thanks for inviting him and nothing more.