Dear Maggie. Brenda Novak

are hoping I’ll find a nice girl and settle down to have a bunch of kids; but don’t let that worry you. My job is pretty demanding. I doubt I’ll be getting married any time soon—

      Mntnbiker: Hi, Maggie.

      Maggie blinked at the blue box that had suddenly appeared on her screen. Mntnbiker was sending her an instant message. She felt a moment’s panic because she’d been out of the dating game for so long, then shook it off. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She wasn’t that girl with braces and clothes so well made they’d last a century, and this guy was a total stranger. She didn’t need to impress him. She didn’t even know where he lived.

      Zachman: Hi, John.

      Mntnbiker: Did you get my message?

      Zachman: I was just reading it. I have to admit I like the part about me being beautiful and sweet the best, although it would certainly have been more convincing if you’d seen a picture of me first.

      Mntnbiker: I have a good imagination.

      Zachman: Then send me a photo because I don’t have a clue what you look like.

      Mntnbiker: Does it matter?

      Zachman: I’m curious.

      Mntnbiker: I’m 6’2”, 195 lbs., brown hair, brown eyes.

      Zachman: Do you still live in Utah?

      Mntnbiker: Yes.

      Zachman: How old are you?

      Mntnbiker: 33.

      Zachman: Divorced?

      Mntnbiker: No. Never married.

      Zachman: Any close calls?

      Mntnbiker: I’ve been engaged once.

      Zachman: To the woman you mentioned in the chat?

      Mntnbiker: Yeah.

      Zachman: How long ago was that?

      Mntnbiker: Three years.

      Maggie tapped a fingernail on her front tooth, thinking. She hated to come on too strong, but she didn’t want to waste her time with a guy who was still in love with someone else. Emboldened by the anonymity of e-mail communication, she decided to get right to the point.

      Zachman: Are you over her?

      Mntnbiker: I think so. Are you always so direct?

      Zachman: Usually. I’m a journalist, remember? It’s my job to ask tough questions. So, do you ever see her anymore?

      Mntnbiker: No, she’s married.

      Zachman: I’m reading between the lines here, but the break-up sounds like it was pretty rough on you.

      Mntnbiker: I wish I had taken the brunt of it. Unfortunately, I think it was rougher on her. How about you? Anyone special in your life?

      Zachman: Just my son, Zach.

      Mntnbiker: Tell me what he’s like.

      Maggie stared, disbelieving, at Mntnbiker’s words. He wanted to know about Zach? For some reason, she hadn’t expected him to ask about her son. Maybe Tim’s attitude had colored her view of what most men were like. Maybe Mntnbiker—John—was different.

      Smiling, she told him that Zach had a lisp, that he was blond and big for his age and that he loved basketball. The two of them played in the backyard all the time, using a pint-sized hoop and ball. Zach could already dribble.

      Mntnbiker: He sounds like a great kid. What happened to his father?

      Zachman: After I got pregnant, Tim demanded I get an abortion. He said he wasn’t ready, after all. But I refused to terminate the pregnancy, and that was pretty much the last straw in our relationship.

      Mntnbiker: What does Tim do?

      Zachman: He’s a podiatrist now. When we were married, he was going to school.

      Mntnbiker: You supported him?

      Zachman: Yeah.

      Mntnbiker: As a journalist?

      Zachman: Not exactly.

      Maggie hesitated. She wasn’t proud of this part of her life. She’d sold out, plain and simple, and she’d done it because Tim had asked her to. He had a way of making her career seem inconsequential next to his and, for a while, she’d actually bought into it.

      Zachman: In order to get on at the paper in L.A., I would’ve had to intern for several years, which doesn’t pay anything. We needed money for Tim’s schooling, so he convinced me to hire on at one of the tabloids. We weren’t living too far from Hollywood, so our location was perfect for that sort of thing.

      Mntnbiker: You sound like you regret it.

      Zachman: I do. It certainly wasn’t the kind of writing I’d aspired to in college, but Tim can be very persuasive. He craved success more than anything, and he had a plan to achieve it. The only catch was that his plan depended on me making a sizable salary. Kids weren’t initially part of the deal, and he wasn’t happy he’d relented on that.

      Mntnbiker: So is he successful?

      Zachman: I guess. He has his practice, a new wife, a fancy car and a huge house.

      Mntnbiker: And you have…

      Zachman: An old house that needs central air and paint, a job that can eventually lead me in the direction I want to go, and Zach. Zach is worth all the cars and houses and money in the world. I actually feel kind of sorry for Tim. He’s missing out on so much.

      Mntnbiker: Don’t feel sorry for him. He probably doesn’t deserve it. Does he pay you child support, have any relationship with Zach at all?

      Zachman: No. He never really wanted Zach and wasn’t interested in visitation rights, so I didn’t have the nerve to ask for child support. I thought it was better to make a clean break and to do what I can for Zach on my own.

      Mntnbiker: What did you ever see in this guy?

      Zachman: We met in college. He was driven, ambitious, successful, confident. I fell in love with him almost right away. I fell out of love with him shortly after the wedding, for the same reasons.

      Mntnbiker: And now? Are you seeing anyone?

      Zachman: Oh, yeah. Lots of guys. On weekends, they form a line at my door.

      Mntnbiker: How long’s the wait?

      For the right man? Maggie sighed in longing. There’d be no wait for Mr. Right, but she didn’t have any hope of finding him soon.

      “Mommy, you doing your e-mail?” Zach interrupted, coming into the room.

      “Yeah, babe.”

      “Can I have s-s-some more milk?”

      “Just a minute, honey.” When her son drew close enough, she pulled him onto her lap and shifted him to one side as she considered her response to Mntnbiker.

      Zachman: It depends.

      Mntnbiker: On looks or personality?

      Zachman: Definitely personality.

      Mntnbiker: How am I doing so far?

      She chuckled.

      Zachman: Better than most, but we probably live a thousand miles apart.

      Mntnbiker: We might live closer than you think.

      Zachman: What if we do?

      Mntnbiker: Who knows? Maybe we’ll meet someday. Maybe I’ll show up with chocolate-covered strawberries and coffee ice cream and whisk you away to the beach.

      Zachman: Are you asking for my address?

      Mntnbiker: