I glare at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Andy laughs. “That you’re just looking for the next clue. I think the point of this is for you to enjoy the view.”
I cross my arms. “Who said I’m not? I have enjoyed it.”
“You haven’t even looked into a telescope yet. Come here,” he says, grabbing my arm and moving me in front of him.
I look down into the lens pointed toward the moon.
“Wow,” I say.
Through the lens, the moon isn’t just this shining circle in the distance. It’s close up and real. It almost looks like a ski mountain, with its craters in clear view.
“That really is incredible.”
“It is.”
When I pull back, I realize he’s looking at me, not the moon.
“You’ve proved your point,” I say. “Are we free to move on to the next telescope?”
He smiles. “After you.”
We begin our walk to the next one, in the center of the bridge. The wind is cold against my face and reminds me why nobody else is here. I look at Andy and he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He looks from me to the stars.
“Want to know another fun fact?”
I nod, noticing that he’s walking even closer to me now even though we have this entire bridge to ourselves.
“Have you heard of Neil deGrasse Tyson?”
“The astrophysicist?” I ask. “My dad’s a science professor. Sometimes I think he might have a man crush on him.”
Andy laughs. “Yep, that’s him. Hopefully your dad hasn’t told you this one already…but Neil deGrasse Tyson says that we’re made of the same particles that were forged in stars gone supernova.”
“So what makes that fact fun?” I ask, looking up at the stars.
“Well, it means that we’re made of stardust and that not only are we in this universe, but the universe is in us.”
I look back at Andy. His eyes are as bright as the sky, but I don’t tell him that.
“How’d you learn about this?” I ask.
He smiles. “I work in a library. I read a lot.”
I nod. “Well, that’s a fun fact. But maybe not as good as Mark Twain inventing the bra strap.”
He looks down at me as we reach the next telescope. “Are you always this hard to impress?”
“Maybe,” I say.
“What about now?” he says, reaching behind the telescope. I don’t know what he’s doing until he grabs something and hands it to me.
Another paper heart.
The next heart is at the peak of winter wonderland.
I read it once. Then twice. And then a third time. Isn’t there always ice on mountains? At least around here.
Andy watches me think. “Well, what’s the verdict?”
The last thing I want is to see his cocky grin when he solves another one before me. Think, Ella. So far, all the clues have led me to a place nearby, so that helps narrow things down.
And then it clicks—peak could refer to a mountain peak. What about the ice-skating rink at Mohonk Mountain House, where my last Instagram photo was taken? That’s it! But then I frown, realizing how late it is.
“This next location isn’t open until tomorrow.”
“Bummer,” he says, but he doesn’t look too bummed. “Well, now that you’re stuck with me, are you going to tell me about these paper hearts? You must have some idea who’s doing this.”
“I wish I did.” I sigh.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re following these hearts and you have no idea where they’re coming from?”
I bite my lip. “Pretty much.”
“Interesting” is all he says back. I can’t tell if he believes me or not, but he drops it. When he stares at me again, there’s still a sparkle in his eyes brighter than the lights in the distance.
I debate telling him everything now. How I was in an accident and I feel like my secret admirer could be leading me to something important. But he looks at me in a way that’s so untainted, like I’m snow at the beginning of December. There’s nothing better. I decide I don’t want that to change, especially since I’ll never see him again after tonight.
So I don’t share anything else about the paper hearts. In fact, I pretend that’s not why we’re here at all. We’re just two strangers looking up at the stars.
“Tell me something interesting about you,” I ask.
He leans on the railing, looking down at the frozen water, then at me.
“Hmm…you already know I love mysteries. What else can I tell you that doesn’t make me seem like a complete weirdo?…I love going to diners. Not nice diners either. I call those finers—fake diners—because they’re too nice. They buy a lot of old things like records to hang on the walls, but it’s obvious the place is new. I like the diners that look like holes in the wall. Those always have the best fries and milkshakes.”
I laugh. “So you’re not a fan of finers. Not exactly what I was expecting. Anything else?”
“I’ve been to Disney World more than ten times.”
My eyes widen. “How’s that even possible?”
“I’m a DK.”
I pause. “Is that another made-up word, like finer?”
He grins. “See? You’re catching on. DK stands for Divorced Kid. One of the perks of being one is that your parents are in constant competition to be the favorite. Whenever one parent takes me to Disney World, the other one plans a trip shortly after. Originality isn’t exactly their strong point.”
“But more than ten times?” I ask, still in shock.
“Yep. If there’s one way to put a damper on the happiest place on earth, it’s letting your child be in the middle of your divorce animosity. They split up when I was six. You’d think they’d be over it by now.”
“I don’t know, how easy is it to get over someone you thought you’d be with forever?” I ask.
“Good point, Watson,” he says with a smile, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes.
I turn to him. “Are you over it?”
He gives me another small smile. “For a while I didn’t think I’d be. I mean, if it were up to me, I’d fight tooth and nail before losing the person I love. But yeah, I think I am. In a way, it’s almost easier that my parents can’t stand each other now. There’s no wishing they would get back together or anything.”