I had expected to be home much earlier, but I hadn’t planned on telling Felipe and Ernie about Uncle Louis, either. And I hadn’t planned on finding a note from my across-the-street neighbor, Jake Robinson, of Beach Books. “Have a package for you,” the note read. “Stop by when you get home, and you can pick it up. Jake.” I looked across the street at Jake’s store. The door was closed and most of the lights were out, but someone was still moving around behind the front windows, and a couple of lights were on over the racks. I’d better go see what he had. Not that I objected to seeing what Jake had. In fact, most of the time I was quite happy to check him out: broad shoulders, a great smile, and—how do I put this?—nice-fitting jeans. But a delivery for me? I wasn’t expecting anything, and I wasn’t much in the mood for surprises. Still, I didn’t like imposing on the neighbors. Especially a neighbor I would like to get to know a little better.
