One of Leslie's duties at the bank was to oversee mortgage and loan applications. That morning, a young couple, Jessica and Jason Stocklin, had finished filling out the necessary bank documents to prepare for the Finalization and Closing of their pending mortgage. Leslie watched the couple leave the bank, tired after the tedious amount of pages that had required their signatures, but with smiles on their faces evidencing their satisfaction and anticipation.
She sighed, overcome and awed by the love she had glimpsed between the two. Why was it, she wondered, if Jason, crippled and hurting what the men she had dated would consider a major flaw inspired such affection as shown on Jessica's face, why was it, she wondered, that her own flaw, manageable to say the least, kept her from finding a man capable of loving her with as strong a love as Jessica's love for her husband. If such a man existed, he'd need to have a gentler soul than any of the men she'd dated.
Leslie had long ago admitted to herself, her flaw that distanced suitors. It wasn't her intellect or her looks. She was smart, Data Entry Supervisor at the downtown branch near Battery Park in Manhattan. And she was attractive with long dark hair and matching wide, expressive eyes that she'd been told, sparkled with enthusiasm whenever she took over a conversation she enjoyed. That was her flaw not the sparkle or enthusiasm but her taking over a conversation without meaning to be insensitive or deliberate. When the Stocklins invited her to dinner at the home of their best friends, Abby and John Sands, she accepted. ... With no doorbell in sight, she tried the storm door. Luckily, it was unlocked. She lifted the knocker and was surprised to hear the sound of a three-note bell as the ring knocker met wood. She smiled, and curiosity getting the best of her, she knocked again with the same result. What a unique idea, she thought, as she'd never encountered a doorbell camouflaged as a door knocker.
She waited for a response, but none came. Finally, she used the knocker again. This time she heard voices and shuffling noises behind the door. It opened. Expecting one of the Stocklins or Sands, she stood gaping a moment at the stranger gazing back at her. He was tall, well-built, with light brown hair and brown eyes. Whatever he might appear to others, she thought him handsome, so much so that she caught herself openly and unashamedly staring. Mercifully, his greeting brought her back to her senses.
"You must be Leslie," he said. "You match Abby's description exactly."
She nodded, swallowing nervously.
She heard Abby's voice coming from behind him. "Is it Leslie?"
"Yes, it's her."
"I hope I'm not too early," Leslie said, forcing herself to look behind him towards Abby's voice.
"Not at all," the stranger said. He had a refined tenor's voice. "Please come in," he offered, opening the door wide for her to enter. "I'm Andrew, Jason's brother."