from Dorothy St. James's White House Gardener Mysteries
My grandchild, Casey, won't be coming home for Valentine's Day. I'll miss how she breezes into the room wreathed in smiles on February 14th. "I have a secret," she would tell me, tugging at my arm, tugging until I followed her out into the garden.
Every year on Valentine's Day, even after she'd shed her childhood giggles, she'd still drag me out into the garden to see the present she'd grown for me.
"You don't have to give me anything," I'd tell her, patting her cheek. "Just havin' you in this house every day of the year is present enough. You're all love, a living Valentine."
She'd blush and look away. Though my grandbaby is nearly forty (oh, my), she still has trouble accepting that someone could love her like I do. Like everyone with any sense loves my dear Casey.
Which brings me to my problem. She's living in D.C. now and not only is she lacking a sweetheart to snuggle up next to this Valentine's Day, she doesn't have me.
So I'm sending her this Valentine's Card to remind her that she doesn't need roses or jewelry on Valentine's Day to know that she is loved. She is loved. And so are you.
When pure, it will never let you down.
"Credible characters, a fast-paced plot, and a light look at political life in Washington, D.C., will delight cozy fans." ~ Publishers Weekly