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A Free Sample of Romance of The Week Sebastian Cole’s Sand Dollar: A Story of Undying Love … 77/83 Rave Reviews, Just 99 Cents on Kindle

Last week we announced that Sebastian Cole’s Sand Dollar: A Story of Undying Love is our Romance of the Week and the sponsor of thousands of great bargains in the Romance category: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!

Now we’re back to offer our weekly free Romance excerpt, and if you aren’t among those who have downloaded Sand Dollar: A Story of Undying Love, you’re in for a real treat:

4.6 stars – 84 Reviews
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here’s the set-up:
Sand Dollar: A Story of Undying Love is a winner in the Beverly Hills Book Awards, a finalist in the International Book Awards, a finalist in ForeWord Reviews Book Of The Year Awards, and a finalist in the ForeWord Firsts debut literary competition.

Noah Hartman, eighty years old, lies sick in a hospital bed recounting his life of love and loss to Josh, in his sixties, a wise and compassionate orderly who stopped in to bring him dinner. As Noah’s loved ones arrive one by one to see him, they listen in on his story, and we’re transported back in time to Noah’s younger years.

Though outwardly seeming to have it all, Noah, now thirty-five, is actually an empty, lost, and broken man running on automatic pilot. He has no true identity due to having allowed his powerful, wealthy parents to manipulate, control, and brainwash him from a young age. With the threat of disinheritance and withholding love and approval if he doesn’t comply with the plan they have for his life, Noah is lured in by the reward of great wealth and the illusion of running the family business empire some day. In truth, however, Noah is like a regular, everyday guy living a life that was not meant for him.

Enter Robin, twenty-five years old, who — in direct contrast to Noah — is a vivacious, free spirit. Full of life and always living in the moment, Robin’s love saves Noah by inspiring him to stand up to his parents and live his own life at all costs, reclaiming his true self.

While snorkeling in the Caribbean, the captain of the boat warns them not to disturb anything in the sea. Ignoring the exhortation, Noah dives down and snags a sand dollar from the ocean floor, whereupon it explodes in his hand. With the fragile sand dollar taking on new significance, Robin inexplicably leaves Noah shortly after returning from their trip. Like a passing breeze, she disappears out of his life without a trace, seemingly forever.

Years pass, and Noah still can’t get her out of his mind and out of his heart. After all, she’d always be the one who got away, the one he loved the most. That’s when he finds out about her hidden secret, an underlying condition responsible for her having left. Noah has no choice but to move on with his life without her, meeting Sarah and pursuing a relationship with her.

Years later, it’s Noah and Sarah’s wedding day, and Robin discovers a clue that Noah had surreptitiously sent her, inspiring her to race to the wedding to try to stop it. With the wedding in shambles, the scene jumps back to present day, with both Robin and Sarah placed in Noah’s hospital room. But which one did he choose?

Things are definitely not as they appear as Noah discovers a far greater truth about his past, present, and future. As Noah finishes telling his story, we are brought up to present day, where the pieces of a shattered love are put back together in the remarkable final chapter of his life.

 And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

Prologue

f all the guests congregated inside Touro Synagogue, no one was more delighted than Miriam Hartman, mother of the groom. She was sitting in the front row with tissues in hand, her husband to her right, the bride’s mother — a close friend — to her left. If only Noah had married a nice Jewish girl like Sarah all those years ago, Miriam thought, his life would have turned out perfect, just the way she had planned. Instead, his life was ruined by that shicksa Robin he had insisted on marrying against her wishes. She and Jerry tried to nip it in the bud before it was too late, but Noah was stubborn, some nonsense about butterflies and the way she looked at him. For the life of her, Miriam could not understand why Noah never listened to his mother, because after all, she only wanted what was best for him. And at this point in Noah’s middle-aged life, Miriam concluded, Sarah was best for him. With all the bad decisions he had made throughout his life, proposing to Sarah appeared to be the only redeeming one.

Relishing in subdued victory, there was no need for Miriam to ever take credit for the role she had played in getting the two of them together. For all Noah knew, running into Sarah at the premiere of Sand Dollar happened by chance, or perhaps even divine intervention — if you believe in that sort of thing. However, there was nothing divine about it — not that time anyway — because Miriam had secretly planted her there.

Miriam was wearing a wide-brim chapeau with beige satin sash, tulle, and rose clusters. She had on a brown silk Carolina Herrera gown with sparkling gold beads and lace trim, an exquisite emerald butterfly-shaped broach pinned on the shoulder. A spectacular 22-carat emerald-cut diamond engagement ring eclipsed her finger, and long crystal-shaped emerald earrings dangled beside her slim neck. Sitting beside her, her husband Jerry resembled an eighty-year-old James Brolin, tall and thin, with manicured white hair and a commanding presence. He was wearing a black Brioni tuxedo accessorized by the black cane resting against the side of the pew.

The synagogue was filled to capacity by half the membership of Spring Valley Country Club, all wearing tuxedos and gowns for this black tie affair. It was a who’s who of Rhode Island’s most prominent Jewish community. Up on the bema, two thousand large white rose-heads adorned the white chupah. Standing underneath it, the rabbi gave Jerry a friendly nod, acknowledging the temple’s most generous benefactor. Just to the right, Noah was standing beside his best man, his brother Scott. They were wearing white formal tuxedos with tails on their jackets, white bowties, and white yarmulkes on their heads.

The conductor raised his baton, and the ten-piece orchestra started playing Canon In D. Heads turned as all eyes focused on the first bridesmaid walking slowly up the red-carpeted aisle in a wine-colored gown. After all six bridesmaids took their place on the bema to the left of the chupah, the superlative performance of Pachelbel’s masterpiece was concluded, and there was silence.

As the orchestra began playing Here Comes The Bride, all heads turned back down the aisle toward the entrance with anxious anticipation. Sarah was a beautiful, young woman, no doubt the most beautiful bride this congregation would ever see.

Fifty pounds overweight with a silver cross bouncing around her neck, Robin rushed through the front door into the synagogue in ripped jeans and a Block Island T-shirt. Stopping dead in her tracks, her eyes scanned the room. All five hundred congregants sitting in the pews were staring directly at her. Turning her head slowly to the right, she suddenly was aware of Sarah standing just a few feet away in a long, white wedding gown, a mortified look on her face behind her sheer, white veil. The orchestra’s music came to a grinding halt.

Noah’s smile, which had been filled with anticipation, turned to curiosity as he raised his hand above his eyes to see who had just entered, his jaw dropping at the sight of her. He looked at his brother standing beside him, speechless.

While talking into his palm with a finger to an earpiece, a man in a navy blazer emerged from the shadows to grab the intruder, pulling her away.

“STOP ! Let her go,” Noah demanded from across the synagogue.

While Miriam coldly waved them off, the security guard, with a strong hand on her, eyeballed Jerry. Robin shook off the guard and bolted through the large wooden front door. The guests started buzzing and heads turned as they tried to make sense of it all. Glancing around nervously, the maestro looked at Miriam for guidance, who motioned with her hands for him to continue. He raised his baton, and, to the tune of Here Comes The Bride, Noah ran down the aisle toward the door.

“Don’t worry,” he blurted out to Sarah as he ran past her. “I’ll be right back !”

With a bewildered look on her face, Sarah pulled off her veil and looked across the synagogue at her bridesmaids. The chatter from the surprised guests grew steadily as everybody stood up and headed for the exit. With a rustle of expensive silk, Miriam fainted to the floor.

Noah ran down the flight of red-carpeted granite steps, past the line of white stretch limousines waiting out front. He caught up to Robin walking quickly down the sidewalk.

“Hey… what the hell are you doing here?” he exclaimed, grabbing her arm.

“I’m sorry, Noah,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, turning to look at him as the guard approached in the background. “I never should have come here. I’m such a fool.” Shaking her head, she glanced at the white stagecoach with two white horses. “Go back to your fairy tale wedding,” she sobbed, running across the street.

Noah continued his pursuit, dodging traffic and catching up with her on the other side. “HEY !” he yelled, walking briskly behind her, grabbing hold of her again. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

She looked at him lovingly. “It’s not your fault… There’s no reason why we couldn’t have stayed married. The medication… the psychiatrist… God, I don’t even know where to start,” she said, covering her mouth and looking off.

“I don’t believe this,” Noah said, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re the one who needs closure, because if you do — ”

“No… no, that’s not it. I made a big mistake… I never should have left you.”

“Let me get this straight. You came all the way down here just to tell me you made some kind of big mistake?” She nodded. “A mistake,” he repeated, throwing his hands up in the air, looking away. “A mistake?” he questioned, looking back at her, seeking confirmation. “Don’t you think I know that already? Huh? I wanted to hate you so bad, but I couldn’t stop loving you long enough to hate you. If there were any way I could have erased your memory from my brain, I would have done it in a heartbeat. But not a chance of that… not with my heart refusing to let go. I would have given my left lung just to hold you in my arms for one more day, just one day. Thirteen years… and not a day gone by that I didn’t pray you’d come back, look into my eyes, and say the words that you just said to me,” he said, turning his head away, looking across the street at Sarah and the rest of the wedding party filtering out of the building. “NO… No, I can’t do it. Sarah’s a good woman and a good friend. She’d never leave me; she loves me. I’m sorry, Robin,” he said, looking back at her. “You’re too late. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m getting married today,” he said, turning and walking away, forcing himself not to look back.

Anxious to rejoin his bride waiting for him on the other side of the street, he stopped at the corner and waited for a few cars to pass. Stepping from the curb, he heard Robin shout.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his foot landing back on the sidewalk as she ran toward him.

“I remember,” Robin said, catching her breath as she reached him.

“You remember?” he said incredulously. “What could you possibly remember?” he demanded, staring at her, waiting for the answer.

The beauty from within her soul shined brightly through her loving eyes as she looked deep into Noah’s now melting eyes.

“I remember — I love you,” she said in a soft voice, nervously biting her lip.

There it was… she actually looked him in the eyes and said it. As Noah heard these words coming out of her mouth, tears formed in his eyes. After all these years, Noah finally got the closure he so desperately needed.

Letting out a scream of anger, he turned and walked straight out into the street in front of a taxicab coming to a screeching halt, almost hitting him.

“GODDAMN YOU !” Noah screamed at her, slamming the hood of the taxi with his fist.

“HEY !” yelled the taxi driver out the window.

“How do you do that?” Noah asked her. “How do you just stand there and tell me you love me? Like… like the last thirteen years never existed. Like you somehow traveled back in time to when I last held you in my arms, and… and everything’s still the same, just the way you left it. What do you expect me to do, Robin? What do you — ” The lump in his throat prevented him from saying anything further. He shook his head and looked away, a tear rolling down his cheek as Robin opened the taxi door and jumped in.

Cars were beeping their horns, blocked by Noah standing in front of the taxi in the middle of the road. He looked over at his bride on the other side of the street, and then looked back at the woman he truly loved, crying inside the taxi.

Now what? he thought.

­

Fragile:

Handle With Care

 

ook at me. Not too shabby for an eighty-year-old man, huh? I’m feeling pretty good, although I can’t seem to remember how I got here or how this bandage ended up on my forehead. I hope I get out of here soon; I’d like to go home. After all, today’s our anniversary.

I lean closer to the mirror, turning my head to the side and touching the edge of the white medical tape holding the square gauze to my forehead. Let me just pull the tape up a little bit over here and see what this looks like. I hear a knock at the door. Better get back in bed.

I scurry out of the bathroom and run back to my hospital bed, jumping in with relative ease. There’s a second knock, this time louder. “Come on in,” I say, pulling the white cotton sheet up over my hospital gown.

An orderly in blue scrubs enters my room pushing a cart full of folded, white linen robes. He looks about sixty-five, with dark skin, gray hair, and a five-o’clock shadow. A pair of glasses and a photo ID card hang down around his neck.

“Noah Hartman?” he asks, putting on his reading glasses to check the name on the clipboard.

“The one and only.”

He pushes a table on wheels over my lap and places a tray of food on it from beneath his cart. I sit up to take a look as he removes the lid, revealing a nicely prepared dinner.

“Mmmm, smells great.” I’m hungry, so I take a bite. “Now that’s good,” I say, pointing at the food.

“I’m glad you like it. I made it myself,” he says proudly in a deep, soothing voice, hanging the clipboard back up on the side of his cart.

“Hey, how’d you know what I wanted, anyway?”

“You filled out a meal card, remember?”

“No, not really…” I think to myself, trying to put the pieces back together. “The last thing I remember, I was standing in the ark… something important to tell her. But after that, everything’s just a blank,” I say, taking a sip of wine from the plastic cup. “So, you must be the cook here at the hospital.”

“Who, me? Nah… I work second shift doing whatever’s asked of me. Right now it’s serving dinner and passing out these robes to the patients.”

I try to hold back a sneeze, but it’s no use, I sneeze anyway.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks,” I say, accepting a box of Kleenex from him. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

“I get that all the time. Got one of those faces, I guess. But I have been known to volunteer at the Hartman Foundation from time to time. Maybe you’ve seen me there, although I doubt you’d ever recognize me if you saw me. I’ve got to tell you, Mr. Hartman, you’ve done a wonderful job down there.”

“Eh, it was nothing, really. And please… call me Noah.”

Nothing? Don’t be so modest. The Foundation has helped thousands of families in need. I wouldn’t exactly call that nothing.”

“Like I said, you do look familiar…” I say, staring at him. “So, what’d you say your name was again?”

“Josh… Josh Numen,” he says, extending out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Josh.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, smiling with warm eyes. I return the smile. “Oh… before I forget, I believe this is yours,” he says, handing me a delicate photograph, being careful not to tear it. “Careful, it’s a little soggy. They found it in one of your pockets. Don’t know if it means anything to you.”

Mesmerized, I stare at the old photograph, the impression of the sand dollar stamped in my mind like it happened yesterday. “My wife took this with one of those disposable underwater cameras forty years ago, back in ninety-six. See what I’m holding in the picture?” I say, turning it around. “Take a good look, because you’ll never look at it again quite the same way. We were snorkeling on our honeymoon in the warm, tranquil water…”

 

A forty-five-foot catamaran dropped its anchor in a secluded, horseshoe-shaped cove. Steep cliffs rising up from a private, white sand beach painted the backdrop to this tropical island paradise situated in the Leeward Islands of the Caribbean.

Noah was a good-looking thirty-eight-year-old man with dark hair, blue eyes, and a chiseled body. He was wearing navy Nautica trunks as he floated effortlessly on his stomach, snorkeling in the crystal clear turquoise water. Robin was a beautiful twenty-eight-year-old woman. Her red string bikini showed off a small yellow butterfly tattoo on her hip and a silver bellybutton ring on a trim waist. Her long, red hair flowed freely on top of the water’s surface as she took pictures of the sea life with an underwater camera. The clarity of the water was so pure that everything in sight seemed to be within reach, no matter how near or how far. Tropical colored fish in vivid colors glided freely all around them in the boundless sea. In awe of his surroundings, there was no other place on earth where Noah could experience such unsheltered freedom.

He tapped Robin on the shoulder and motioned with his hands, pointing out a lone object sitting undisturbed on the ocean floor below.

 

“It’s a sand dollar. I’m sure you’ve seen one, probably even held one in your hand, huh, Josh?”

 

Noah kicked his fins and dove down about ten feet, picking up the sand dollar and resurfacing to get air through his snorkel. From beneath the water’s surface, he proudly displayed his newfound prize to Robin.

 

“No two are exactly the same. Its simplistic design and imperfect form may appear somewhat… well, ordinary. Most people probably wouldn’t think twice about it. So why should this seemingly insignificant object capture so much of my attention?”

 

BOOM ! The precious sand dollar in Noah’s hand exploded. In what seemed like slow motion, the sand dollar disintegrated through his fingers into a thousand tiny grains of sand that evanesced into obscurity.

 

“Because for me, the sand dollar represents life, and how fragile life really is. What was once so very precious to me, suddenly and without warning, disintegrated and vanished before my eyes. Just like the sand dollar, life holds no promises. Seemingly solid and secure in our hands, the blessings we have in our lives today are easily shattered tomorrow.”

“The lesson learned: never take your loved ones for granted. And if you’re ever lucky enough to find that one person in life who makes you love more than any other person could possibly make you love, you treat every day together as if it were your last. You cherish every moment.”

“However, for me, this lesson came too late, for she was already gone, seemingly lost forever. And there was nothing I could do to put the pieces back together. I would spend my life wishing I could somehow travel back, back in time, to the day I first laid eyes on that precious beauty.”

 

The precious beauty of Robin’s young face was shadowed by sadness as she nervously searched Noah’s worried eyes for reassurance.

 

“If only I’d known how fragile she really was. If only I’d known her hidden secret. I would have held onto her so differently… never letting go…”

 

Snapping out of it, my eyes drift back to the picture as I set it down on the table.

“Wow, she left quite an impression on you, didn’t she?” Josh says, picking up the picture to look at it. “You must have really loved her.”

“Yeah, I loved her, all right… never stopped, even after she was gone.” But why bother Josh with all this? I’m sure he has better things to do than listen to an old man ramble on about the one who got away. “Hey, pass me the salt, will you?”

“So, what was it about her that made you love her so much?” Josh asks, handing me the shaker.

A compelling question for sure. I mull it over while I take another bite. I guess there’s no avoiding the subject after all. Besides, I really do need to tell the story to someone. I guess Josh is as good as any. “You mean besides the way she used to look at me… gazing deep into my eyes, my soul, as if I were the only other person on earth?”

“Yeah, besides that,” Josh says, chuckling, his kind eyes encouraging me to tell him all about her.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but I guess you could say I was dead on arrival, so to speak. Then she came into my life and fixed what was broken, opened my eyes to what really matters, you know what I mean? She was full of life, a real free spirit. I gave up everything for her, and in return, she taught me how to live my own life and be free. Made me feel alive.”

“Then what happened?”

“She disappeared… vanished into thin air.”

“Sounds to me like a story of heartbreak and misfortune.”

“Yeah, some people might call it that,” I say, looking away. “But that’s not what I’d call it. No… I prefer to call it something else,” I say, looking back at him.

“What’s that, Noah?”

“A story of undying love.”

Priorities

 

“It was four years before that incident in Saint Barts with the sand dollar,” I tell Josh. “I had everything a man could possibly need — or so I thought. The year was 1992 and the place was Jamestown, Rhode Island…”

 

igh on top of a hill rising up from a private, sandy beach sat a gray, shingled Nantucket-style house with six bedrooms, three balconies, and a large deck overlooking the mouth of Narragansett Bay. Scaffolding flanked the house on two sides. Thirty-five-year-old Noah stepped out onto the back deck wearing jogging shorts, a tank top, and running shoes, the sun just moments away from rising over the tranquil sea. He jogged down the numerous wooden steps leading to the beach below and along the vacant shoreline. Seagulls flew out of his way as small waves broke gently against an orange background.

The sun was shining as he made his way back to the house, running by a sand dollar sticking up in the sand, undetected.

Standing on the back deck of his home, Noah was drinking a cup of coffee and peering through an old brass telescope. On clear days like this, he’d scan the bay through his grandfather’s telescope, his eyes eventually settling on the old lighthouse that sat on a small half-acre island in the middle of the bay. Built in 1871 and now in disrepair, the lighthouse had long since been abandoned by its keepers. It was a square, white house with a red Mansard roof. Ascending from the roof was a white hexagonal lighthouse tower with a rusted iron catwalk that wrapped around the light. Next to the lighthouse sat a small, white shed that once housed the oil needed to run the light.

Noah went back inside the house, turned off the computer, and put a large stack of papers into his briefcase. He grabbed his suit jacket, briefcase, a set of blueprints, and a bouquet of 24 red roses as he left the house. He opened the trunk to the red 1966 Ferrari 330 GTS Spider parked in the circular cobblestone driveway and put his things inside. With the top down and the engine purring, he donned a pair of large Porsche sunglasses with gold frames and drove away, waving to the painters as they arrived in a white van marked Hartman Enterprises.

As he merged onto the highway, he found himself driving next to an attractive woman in a yellow Volkswagen convertible. She had long, dark, flowing hair and an exotic face. The woman looked over at him and gave him a big smile. Noah noticed her, but didn’t acknowledge her, smiling to himself as he accelerated, pulling up alongside a school bus. The kids flocked to the windows to gawk in awe at the man driving the fancy, antique sports car. He glanced at the kids briefly and smiled to himself once again. It felt good to be Noah.

Inside the security office of Hartman Enterprises, a black and white monitor showed the Ferrari convertible pulling into a reserved parking space at the front of a crowded parking lot. The sign in front of the car read Reserved for Noah Hartman. Parked next to him were a Rolls Royce Corniche, a Porsche Carrera, and a Mercedes sedan, all with reserved parking signs that bore the name Hartman. Stan, the head of security, watched Noah on the video monitor grabbing his things from the trunk as another security guard talked with a disgruntled employee about the parking ticket she had received.

Noah walked past a large sign that read HARTMAN ENTERPRISES, National Headquarters, and headed toward two buildings sitting side by side. One looked new and expensive, with mirrored glass and a sign over the door that read Executive Offices. The other was a rundown brick building with a sign that read Real Estate Leasing and Development. Built by Noah’s great-grandfather at the turn of the century, the old building had never been torn down due to its nostalgic value to the family.

As Noah approached, three executives in dark suits stopped talking to greet him. “Good morning,” Noah said with a pleasant smile, shaking their hand and glancing up at the sky, where a whooshing sound was getting louder and louder. Noah waved and headed directly into the old brick building, while the executives, looking at their watches, headed into the nicer, mirrored one — the one with the sleek, black helicopter landing on top of it.

Noah walked into his small, cramped office that had two desks in it: one for him and one for his secretary, Diane. The office was furnished modestly, with wood paneling on the walls and linoleum on the floor. Diane, heavy-set with short hair and glasses, was on the phone trying to track down a shipment of L.V.L. beams that was delaying a construction project. With a smile, he handed her the roses and hung his suit jacket on the back of his chair.

Smelling the roses, she said into the phone, “Hold on a sec,” and looked over at Noah pinning blueprints to the wall. “Now what’s this for?”

“Come on now… you don’t remember what today is?” he teased.

She shook her head.

“It’s our five-year anniversary… working together,” he announced proudly.

She nodded. “You know what, Noah? You haven’t figured this out yet, but you really are just a kind, regular, down-to-earth type of guy — just like the rest of us — trapped inside an outrageously privileged, white-collared body.”

“Yeah, that’s what you keep telling me,” he said with a mischievous smile, setting his briefcase down on his desk and snapping it open. He removed a stack of papers and set them in three piles on Diane’s already overloaded desk. With an annoyed look, she struggled to find the Tenant Occupancy Report buried underneath the new stacks.

A dry-erase board was sitting on the floor facing the wall, concealing what was written on it. Noah picked it up, turned it around, and hung it on the wall, writing on it where he had left off, erasing some things and adding others.

“Thanks for the beautiful roses,” Diane said, hanging up the phone and grabbing a large vase off the shelf that was holding a small bouquet of wilted pink carnations. “Don’t forget, Russ will be here any minute. Can I get you anything for your meeting?” she asked, dumping the wilted flowers into the trash and replacing them with the fresh roses.

“No thanks, Diane. I’m all set,” he replied absently as he continued to write on the board.

Diane frowned at the piles of paper covering her desk. On top of each one was a spreadsheet titled Prospective Mates. The header read SCORE, Name, Handle, Email, Age, Town, Height, Body Type, Number of Kids, Phone Number. She picked up one of the spreadsheets and studied it, shaking her head in confusion as she glanced up at him.

Catching her look, he explained as he continued to write, “The pile on the left is all of the profiles of the women I want to contact on Mymatch.com. As you can see, I’ve given each woman a calculated score based on my special rating system. The middle pile is all the profiles of the women who have already contacted me first.”

“Already? How long have you been doing this; six months?”

“This site is amazing. I just joined three days ago.”

Diane picked up the first pile and riffled through the profiles. Large numbers were circled on each profile, denoting the score that each woman had received — 55, 27, 42, 48…

“What’s with this puny little pile?” she asked, picking up the small third pile.

“Oh… those are the women my parents would like.”

Diane looked even more confused.

“The Jewish ones.”

Noah’s eyes saddened as he stopped writing for a moment, reflecting back on his childhood.

 

Six years old and wearing a white tennis sweater and Mickey Mouse backpack, little Noah tramped behind his babysitter into the Mahjong room at Spring Valley Country Club. The room was all green, with green-flocked wallpaper, green upholstered chairs, and green satin drapes. Noah’s mother, Miriam, was seated with three other women at one of the twenty square wooden tables, playing Mahjong with small tiles spread out in front of them. With long, black hair and delicate facial features, Miriam always dressed to impress. In a Long Island accent, she thanked the young babysitter and smiled lovingly at her son.

“Hey, sweetie, say hello to my Mahjong partners: Helen, Maxine, and Doris.”

Noah looked at the ladies. “Hello,” he said politely with a shy, adorable smile.

“Look at this cute, little bubeleh,” Doris said, grabbing Noah’s cheek and pinching it. Noah grimaced. “Don’t you just want to eat him up?”

“You know, Miriam, he’s turning into quite the boytshik,” said Maxine.

“Noah, tell my friends what you told me you’d do someday if you ever bring home a shicksa who is mean to your mommy.”

“What’s a shicksa again, Mommy?”

“You remember, dear — a girl who isn’t Jewish,” Miriam reminded him.

“Oh yeah… I’ll throw her right out of the house !” he said, swinging his fist through the air.

The women laughed while Noah smiled with pride. Miriam patted her son on the head and smiled quietly to herself, pleased that she had instilled her lofty priorities in little Noah.

 

Noah stared into space in front of the dry-erase board, a marker in his hand and a sad look on his face. Diane stood up and tucked the Tenant Occupancy Report away in the file cabinet beside him. Looking over his shoulder at the checklist on the board, she observed dryly, “Okay, Noah, now you’ve officially lost your mind.”

 

DATING CHECKLIST

PHYSICAL:

voluptuous — A

pretty — A

young — B

not too tall — B

thin — B

good teeth — C

5+5+3+3+3+1= 20 possible points

 

PERSONALITY:

easy-going/soft-spoken — A

loving — A

affectionate — A

likes children — B

not Jappy — C

5+5+5+3+1= 19 possible points

 

BASICS:

no kids — A

doesn’t smoke — B

lives nearby — C

5+3+1= 9 possible points

 

BACKGROUND:

Jewish — A

good education — B

good occupation — C

5+3+1= 9 possible points

 

OTHER:

likes sailing — A

sexy — B

good kisser — C

5+3+1= 9 possible points

 

A= 5 points

B= 3 points

C= 1 point

20+19+9+9+9= 66 TOTAL POSSIBLE POINTS

 

“Voluptuous?” Diane questioned, one eyebrow raised.

Noah shrugged. “Okay, I know it must seem a little shallow, but dating in today’s world can be very confusing. It’s information overload. By prioritizing the qualities that are most important to me, and generating a total score, I figured it would help me sort through it all. You know… find my best match in those stacks of papers.”

“You can’t be serious? Love can’t be defined by a number. I’m telling you, Noah, when the time is right, it’ll just happen.”

“And this rating system will guarantee it happens,” he said confidently, picking up Stacey’s profile and looking at it. “Now take Stacey here, for example. She scored a fifty-five out of sixty-six possible points,” he said proudly. “Now you can’t tell me that she doesn’t have a better chance of wooing my achy-breaky heart over…” he said, shuffling through the pile of profiles, grabbing one, “over Shelly here, scoring a measly twenty-seven points — come on now.”

“You just don’t get it, do you? People aren’t some kind of two-dimensional statistic. They’ve got souls.”

“Yeah I know, but how do I put on a number on that?”

“EXACTLY. You can’t.”

“I’m telling you, this is a foolproof system I’ve got here,” he insisted, pulling a calendar off a nail in the wall. “Just give me ‘til…” turning a couple of pages, “‘til Labor Day,” he said, drawing a heart around the date. “That’s six weeks from now. I just have to do a little weeding out, that’s all, and I’ll find love — guaranteed.”

“Oh, really? Care to wager on that?”

“Okay… okay, I can do that. What do you say the loser buys the winner flowers every week for two months?”

“Nah, I always win that,” she said, looking at the wilted carnations in the wastebasket. “Can’t you think of something else?”

“Yeah, but this time I’m going to win, and you’ll be buying me flowers for a change.”

“Uh huh…” she said, rolling her eyes as Noah’s phone began to ring. “Mr. Hartman’s office,” Diane answered. “Russ is here,” she announced.

“Okay, send him in.”

As he removed the dry-erase board, turning it back to face the wall, the construction manager walked in with an overloaded briefcase and several rolls of blueprints under his arm.

“Six weeks, huh?” Diane murmured. “We’ll see about that.”

 Click here to download the entire book: Sebastian Cole’s Sand Dollar: A Story of Undying Love>>>

 

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