Free Fit to Die by J. B. Stanley Page B

warm smile. “I need to talk to you about … well, about a couple of things.”
    “Sounds good,” she nodded and then glanced at him sideways while flashing him one of her dazzling smiles. “If you beat me there, I’ll take a mocha latte.”
    “That’s probably not going to be on our diet,” James laughed as they pulled up next to his Bronco.
    “Ugh, that’s right.” Lucy frowned, putting the Jeep in park as the engine idled. “Okay, a decaf with skim then. I guess I have to get used to making some sacrifices again. I hope this all works out for us James.”
    James didn’t know whether she was referring to their diet plans or to something more important, such as their relationship. “I hope so, too,” he answered as he got out of the car.
    As he drove toward home, Lucy’s smile temporarily banished all thoughts of the fire and of poor Pete Vandercamp. In fact, James was already dreaming of how he would look after losing twenty pounds, of a successful date with Lucy on Tuesday, and after that, perhaps a whole new future.

James took a bite of his sandwich and frowned. Two slices of fat-free turkey along with lettuce, tomato, and mustard on whole wheat wasn’t too exciting and he had a hard time enjoying any sandwich without adding his customary three creamy slices of American cheese. He was crossly examining the sliced Granny Smith apple and microscopic packet of sugar-free chocolate cookie wafers he planned to have after wolfing down his sandwich when Scott Fitzgerald, one of the library’s four staff members, entered the break room.
    “Looks healthy, Professor,” the lanky young man in his mid-twenties said as he grabbed a brown bag from the fridge. Pushing his horn-rimmed glasses farther up his thin nose he examined his boss’s fare while pulling out an enormous hoagie filled with salami, pepperoni, and several slices of mozzarella from his own lunch sack. James glanced at Scott’s loaded sandwich, large bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, and package of Hostess cupcakes with envy.
    “So how’s the new diet working out?” Scott asked, brushing aside a sandy-colored lock of unruly hair from his forehead before taking a gargantuan bite of his hoagie.
    “I’ve really just started,” James answered once his own mouth was empty. “We’ve got our first exercise class tonight.”
    “Yuck. I hate exercising.” Scott took another bite and a trickle of vinegar ran down his angular chin. He chewed feverishly, as if someone intended to steal his food and then hastily swallowed. “Guess Francis and I are pretty lucky, having the metabolisms we have. Shoot, we try to gain weight but never seem to be able to.” Scott paused, unaware that his boss was glaring at him. “Did you get a load of the new Robert Jordan book? Almost eight hundred pages! I can’t wait to get it home. I’ll probably stay up all night tonight. Francis won’t even notice ’cause he’s got the new Neal Stephenson to keep him busy.”
    James couldn’t help but grin as Scott rambled on about his and his twin brother’s recent reads in the science fiction and fantasy realms. Even though they were named after a famous twentieth century American author, Francis and Scott Fitzgerald had little interest in classical literature. They were savvy mathematicians, quick at solving complex logistical problems, and were compulsively organized. James enjoyed working with them more than any of the professors from his former department at William & Mary. For one, the twins were the most enthusiastic employees he had ever seen. They worked tirelessly and were completely devoted to seeing that every patron’s needs were met. In addition, they were continuously dreaming up new schemes on how to improve their library branch. However, not even the sharp-minded twins had been able to come up with a fundraiser idea that would allow for the purchase of several new computers, which were so desperately needed.
    James polished off his thin cookies