in friday's paper

He first noticed her standing alone near the crowded dance floor. Titian hair, alabaster skin, striking. The prettiest daisy in the field.
Winfred Stevens steadied his wobbly 16-year-old knees. Like a toddler walking in daddy's shoes, he clumsily walked slowly over to Esther Cope and tumbled heart-first into a pool of twinkling blue eyes. He nervously asked if she'd ... um ... uh ... er ... like to dance. As the band in the fig hall at Menlo Park in Perkasie played George and Ira Gershwin's "You've Got What Gets Me," she said yes and smiled.
He took her hand. She took his breath away.
Seventy-seven years later, she still does.