The writing in the diary was small and faded. It took Daisy several long minutes to read the passage and when she finished she put the diary aside and squeezed her eyes closed to give them a rest. The rest turned into a full-fledged doze and Daisy was startled when the phone rang.
“Hello?” She looked around, wondering how long she had slept. It was already dark outside.
“Hey, it’s me.” It was Grover.
“What’s up?” Daisy asked. “What time is it, anyway?”
“About eight thirty. Want to grab something for dinner?”
Daisy stifled a yawn and looked at her watch. “I must have fallen asleep. I was reading. Um, sure, we can get something for dinner. Want me to meet you somewhere?”
“What do you feel like eating?”
“Pizza,” Daisy responded without hesitation.
“I figured you’d say that,” Grover said. “Why don’t we meet at Giuseppe's in about fifteen minutes?”
“See you then.” Daisy hung up and looked in the mirror hanging over her couch. She fluffed her hair with one hand with a quick, nonchalant gesture and grabbed her keys from where they hung next to the front door.
A few minutes later she was waiting outside Guiseppe’s Trattoria. She saw Grover before he could see her over the heads of the people milling about on the street in front of the bar next door.
He finally caught sight of Daisy and raised his hand in greeting. “I’m starving,” he said as he walked up to her on the sidewalk. “I hope there isn’t a wait.”
“It doesn’t look like it,” Daisy replied. She opened the door and he followed her into the darkened interior of the trattoria. They found a table in the front window and a server brought them menus right away.
Once they had ordered Grover sat back in his chair with a sigh.
“Everything okay?” Daisy asked. “Any new developments?”
“I guess everything is okay,” Grover replied. “I mean, I’m not in jail yet, right?”
“Don’t talk like that,” she scolded him.
“All I do is worry. I’ve got to get out of my own head,” Grover said, and he ran his hands through his hair as if to emphasize the point. “Tell me something interesting.”
Daisy told him about the diary she was reading for Mark John. “I think it’s going to be an interesting project,” she said. “Brian brought it into the office today. I was reading that before you called. It was written by a young woman named Gertrude—she calls herself Trudy—in the eighteen-sixties. I actually think I might be able to incorporate it into the research I’m doing for a women’s history project.”
“How so?”
“It’s a first-person account of what women did in the region that was the American west over a century and a half ago. It’s totally relevant to the topic of women’s history. I’ve only read one entry and already the division of labor is obvious. And women’s distrust of strangers.”
“That does sound interesting,” Grover said. And he meant it. His capacity for curiosity was one of the things Daisy liked best about him—he was always up for an adventure or learning something new.
“How are you doing?” Daisy asked when she had told him more about the diary entry she had read.
“Okay, I suppose, all things considered,” he answered. “I’ve got a big wedding this weekend, so we were busy getting things ready for that. In fact, I have to go back in tonight. At least it’s helping to keep my mind off my problems. We’re doing the reception on Saturday night and the brunch the next morning.”
“Need help?” Daisy asked.
“Nah,” he answered. “We’ve got things pretty well under control.”
As they ate Grover told Daisy the dishes he was making for the wedding festivities. “Sounds complicated,” Daisy said, looking pensively at her pizza crust. “But everything sounds delicious.”
She was happy to listen to him talk. He was visibly more relaxed when he talked about work and the food he was going to prepare, and she was thankful he had that outlet to keep some of his stress at bay.
They parted ways out front of the restaurant, promising to talk on Monday, after Grover had had a chance to decompress from the wedding events.
Daisy walked home deep in thought. The diary had captured her imagination, as historical objects tended to do, and she was eager to get back to it. She wanted to read one more entry before turning in for the night. Once back in her apartment, she curled up on the couch and opened the diary again.