February 15, 1999
Dear Mom,
Dad's promised he's not going to throw any of your stuff out, so maybe my hoarding yesterday was unnecessary. I still don't quite trust him enough to unpack it all, but I'm leaving your books on the shelf for now.
I came across one book in particular that caught my eye, and it was on that half of the shelf I never used to go to because you and Dad and me didn't share quite the same taste in stories. It was that Derrick Storm book, one of the most recent ones that you and Dad used to discuss at the dinner table while I was bored out of my mind. You know, the ones by that ridiculously hot author Richard Castle. No, Mom, I don't have a crush on him. I read the paper, I read page six-never in a million years, I promise. Besides, I'd never have a chance with him anyway. But that's not the point.
The new Derrick Storm one caught my eye, and so I opened it up and started reading. I couldn't stop; it was so good. I know you and Dad used to put sticky notes in books at the point where you figured out who the killer was or a certain aspect of the mystery so it became a record of your competition with each other. I can totally tell I'm new at this, because if I were to put a note in for myself it'd be on the second to last page. Yours is in the middle.
It took me a total of seven hours to finish it, and it was a nice escape from reality. It says in the back that the sequel will come out sometime this year, and I'm hoping soon. I want to devour another one of these as soon as possible, but for now I'll settle for one of Richard Castle's (does his name sound like "rich asshole" to you too or is it just me?) earlier works. Chronologically, I guess I'll start with In A Hail of Bullets. Perhaps Dad and I can discuss them at the dinner table like you two did. That's my biggest hope right now.
Anyways, Mom - I was wrong. You do have a great taste in books.
Love,
Kate