I tossed it back, returned the film sheets, and before sliding the news clipping safely back into the envelope I made a copy.
Dear Miss Brooks,
You do not know me, but I am the man you have seen the past three nights standing in the window when you have driven by. I believe you may have thought I was your husband, Eddie, but I am not. Also, and I know you will not believe this, but I live in Eddie’s house some 80 years after the date on the letter you left here last night. I am writing to you from the 21st century.
I have no idea how this has happened—or why. But I have done some research and know for a fact that you and Eddie lived here in 1926 and that you left him in 1927 to be with a gentleman named George Marshall. I have also compared your letter with a sample of your handwriting provided by a society bearing your name, proving to me that your letter was authentic. And you will be pleased to know that even with all the time that has passed, your vanity still exists and was still hiding the envelope you sought.
Forgive me for opening the envelope. I can only say that in my world where nudity is more prolific and generally more acceptable, your timeless beauty would still set you apart from the models and celebrities of my time.
I do know your future and I will only say this: for all that you will endure, you will be admired for your spirit, your independence, even your ‘sassy’ ways. And always for your beauty and acting ability. Stay focused, never change and enjoy a long life.
A fan from the future, Michael Lundy
And she would be here in less than an hour.