It was a momentary decision to leave the gloves. She thought it would be an excuse to return a day or two later to see the girl with the crisp, blue eyes again.

Later, as Carol drove over the George Washington Bridge to Ridgewood, she replayed what might happen with the gloves. She feared the girl would call after her to return them. It would be an abrupt end to Carol’s invitation to the girl. She was glad the girl did not call out to her. Carol thought, perhaps, they’d be delivered with the train with a letter, perhaps saying, “It was my pleasure to help you. Let me know if I could be of service in the future.” Or, perhaps Carol would receive them in the mail with a return address or even a name would be attached.

The gloves were delivered by mail, but there was no name, no note, no return address. Carol had hoped for decisive, a clear sign. Instead, it was back to her to make the next move. She should have known. The clerk was just barely more than a girl.  Her eyes, though, held an intensity that told Carol there was more to her, more that Carol wanted to know about.

There was an employee number. Carol told herself that she could have not called. She could have let her go right there for her lack of effort. In fact, she tried. She crumpled the paper with the employee number and threw it in the trash. Apparently, she couldn’t let it go. She needed to see if there was more, if the girl simply didn’t know how to make her interest known.

Carol phoned her, Employee 645-A.

“So it was you,” as if she didn’t know where she had left my gloves.

“Oh – hello. Mrs. Aird? Did you – receive the train set alright?” Train? Oh, yes, the train. The girl knew it was her. She never said her name, but she knew Carol’s voice after 4 words.

“I did. And the gloves. Thank you so much. You’re a star for sending them. I just called to say – thank you, really.” And when can I see you again, Carol thought. But she had to be delicate. What if she misread her interest? She didn’t think she had, but she had to proceed carefully.

“Do you get a lunch there? – Let me take you It’s the least I can do.” Carol gathered her composure. This was what she had in mind to begin with. Leave the gloves, get the girl to make contact. If she did, see her again.

“I – well. Yes, of course. But you really don’t…” She was tripping over herself, but she seemed interested.

“Let me take you to lunch tomorrow. I’ll be in the city. Do you know Longchamp?” Carol raced on. She needed to see her soon. There was no point wondering if there was something there or not. She needed to know. Given the excuse of the gloves while shopping, sooner made sense.

“Tomorrow?” Was it anticipation in the girl’s voice? Fear? “No, I don’t know it. Hold on.” She asked for a pencil and paper to write down the address.

The long looks at the store, the intense eye contact. Carol knew what that meant, but did the girl? She hoped so, and this was the confirmation Carol looked for. The girl seemed clever and sweet, and there were those eyes. She wanted to know more, and now she had the confirmation she hoped for – the girl wanted to know more, too.  That was that.