Installment #14 The evening

     Tucker was back at Starbucks at 4:15.  He was relieved to see that Cynthia had not yet arrived.  It had been a very productive afternoon with George and he had seen several pieces of real estate that had piqued his interest, but not enough to make an offer.  He was sure this was the area he wanted to be in when he retired to Pueblo.  There were a lot of big, old houses on the blocks here on the river.  The river itself was fascinating as they had built a kayak course and families strolled together along the levee.  He would get a fishing pole and maybe he could catch a fish!  And learn to whistle.  That was now paramount in his mind.  Something about the sharp whistle fascinated him.

     Tucker suddenly realized that he was very hungry.  And where was Cynthia?  Cynthia Browder.  He wondered idly what she usually did for dinner on a Saturday night.  4:26. She was going to be late.  Maybe she was getting even for that morning.  Then he realized that she was walking through the door.  Her smile was radiant and Tucker smiled back.  Something about this woman made him want to smile.  He felt like an idiot.

     He stood as she approached the table.  “Would you like a cup of coffee, or shall we just hop in the car and go find some real food.  I am starving.”

     “Oh, I am so ready for real food, but can we just walk right down the street about half a block and have Chinese?  There is a nice little restaurant just this side of the bridge.”

     “Great!  I am always ready for Chinese.”  He held his elbow out to her and she placed her tiny hand in the crook of his arm and laughed softly.  Tucker suddenly felt very protective of her.  He did not know her, but he knew he wanted to.  He wanted to know everything about her. 

      So the man who had monopolized the conversation that morning, now sat and listened quietly as she filled him in on the high points of her life.  She was a widow, having lost her husband of 15 years.  She had 4 children from her first husband.  And there had been 3 other husbands.  They did not have names.  They did not count.  Tucker had never been a possessive or a jealous man, and he wasn’t now.  He made no judgments, just listened to the facts.

     The meal was good.  The conversation was comfortable and it all ended too soon.  Cynthia had chores at home that needed done.  She did not invite him to her home and when they walked back to the Starbucks and their cars, Tucker was melancholy.  He liked Cynthia.  She was easy to talk to.  He held the door for her and when she was behind the wheel, he closed it firmly.  She started the engine and he stepped away.  She smiled sadly and drove away.

     Tucker watched her enter the flow of traffic and disappear across the bridge.  He suddenly hit himself in the head with his hand.  My God!  That was it!  He knew he forgot something!  He had not gotten her phone number.  How could he call her?  He couldn’t.  She had not offered it to him.  Of course not.  Cynthia Browder was not a woman who would push herself at a man that way.  If he had asked, she would have given it to him, but he had not asked.  And now he was here in the same city where she lived and had no idea where.  And he sure as hell couldn’t call her and ask her.

     Sadly he climbed into the Corvette, fastened his seat belt, reversed the car and also entered the traffic flow to head back to an empty motel room and a lonely evening watching Fox news.  Tomorrow he would drive around Pueblo and get a feel for the city.  Maybe he would stop at the Starbucks and maybe Cynthia would be there. 

     But he knew that was a very long shot and not worth betting on at all.

Installment #13 The day

     “Cynthia?  I am sorry I was late.  Traffic was a bear from Denver this morning.”  He smiled down at her.

     Cynthia felt her reserve melting away as they stood in the open door.  “Tucker, I assume?  I was just thinking how nice it is and thought I might like to set at a table outside.”

     “Sounds like a plan.  Let me grab a coffee and I will join you.”  He held the door as she stepped through.  He smiled again and entered the coffee shop.  He poked his head back through the door and asked, “Can I get you another?”

     “No thanks, but I could use a water.”

     Tucker smiled to himself.  Water was free!  This was going to be a good day.  He had an appointment with George Farley at 11:30 so he had about an hour to make a judgment call on this little bit of fluff.  He took his Cappuccino and headed for the door.

     Tucker began talking before he set down.  He told her about his business in Denver.  He told her about his motorcycle club; his photography, San Francisco, Minneapolis, St Louis, his sword collection, his gun collection, his jewelry making.  She listened.  She smiled.  She sipped her water.  Tucker lost track of time.

     Cynthia suddenly held up her hand.  “Oh, Tucker, I am sorry to interrupt, but I have a meeting for lunch at noon!”

     Tucker was surprised to see it was 11:30.  He would be late for his meeting with George.  Good thing his office was just on the other side of the parking lot.  He was having a hard time making the transition back from his hour of trying to make a good impression to the fact that he knew nothing about her!  He searched for words.  She stood and gathered her things.  He sat stock still.  A plan!  He needed a plan, but time was moving and he was not.  She held her hand out to him.  He grasped it as the only life line he saw at that moment.

     “It was so nice meeting you, Tucker.  I hope to see you again.”  She released his hand and turned toward the door.

     “Wait!  I have to think.  Wait!”  Cynthia turned and looked at him in astonishment.  He was handling this badly, he knew.  “Cynthia, I have a problem.  I am dyslectic and I can not think fast.  I am sorry.  I have to meet a realtor now, but I have a room.  Can we get together later today?”  Oh, God!  That did not sound good.  “For dinner?  I mean for dinner?”  He stared at her forlornly.

     She laughed!  Tucker suddenly relaxed.  This was going to work.  They laughed together.  “Sure.  I work with an AIDS Support group in town and I will be through with that at 4 or so.  Want to meet here around 4:30 ?”

     He smiled as he walked her to her car.  He smiled as he opened the door for her and he stood smiling in the parking lot as he watched her back out and drive away.  He felt like a damn fool as someone honked at him to get out of the way.  He smiled and waved at the old man glaring at him and he was still smiling as he opened the door to the real estate office.

Installment #12 Starbucks

     Cynthia handed the lady behind the counter a ten dollar bill and accepted $6.10 in change.  She peeled off a dollar bill and put it in the tip cup.  She smiled at the girl making her Soy Latte with one pump of Carmel.  She glanced out the window.  She had no idea what kind of car alfredj424 drove, but there was very little traffic in the parking lot this morning.  She was sure she would recognize him when he came.  He was 6’2” so that was unusual.  He had gray hair and glasses so that narrowed it down even more.  And those blue eyes.

     As she settled in at the corner table she was glad she had brought a book to read.  Well, it was more a study book then just something to kill time with.  The Artist’s Way was supposed to help teach discipline and teach you how to overcome writer’s block.  Not that she was a writer, but she would like to be.  She sipped her latte and checked her watch.  10:20.

     Well, one thing was for sure, he was not punctual.  She did not like setting here alone and then the possibility suddenly hit her that he might stand her up.  She suddenly hoped he would.  She was not ready for this!  What in the hell had she been thinking?  She put her book in her purse, picked up her drink and headed for the door.  She suddenly froze with her hand on the latch and watched as a shiny green Corvette pulled into the lot and a very tall man in a newsboy cap stepped from the car and turned to the coffee shop.  Their eyes met and Cynthia suddenly knew that the chance for escape had eluded her and as Tucker Fuhrman looked into her green eyes with his sky blue eyes she suddenly heard Willie Nelson singing, “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.”  She knew this man!  She knew in her soul that she knew him.  She knew with every fiber of her being that she had always known him. Whoever alfredj424 really was she was sure he was her destiny.

     Whoever truckingduck was she was not just another page on match.com.  As Tucker gazed down into the green eyes that were slowly changing to hazel and then to gray, he suddenly felt an emotion he had not experienced since he left St. Louis many years ago.    Tucker Fuhrman, 6’2”, 205 pounds, successful business man and self-confidant man about town felt an emotion completely alien to his whole being.  Tucker Fuhrman felt fear. A comfortable feeling enveloped him, but inside the warmth of her eyes he also felt fear!  He knew that life as he had known it, was over!

Installment #11 Alfredj424

     Tucker ran his hand over his face.  He was tired.  Work had been a pisser this last week.  Nothing had gone right.  Oh, his plans were right, but a series of mistakes by inept help had put him behind schedule and cost him several thousand dollars.  Nothing could be done about it now.  It was a long weekend and it stretched before him like an endless highway.  His eyes fell on the computer.  When had he last visited match.com?  He punched the power button and drummed his fingers as the machine booted up and opened the startup screen.  He clicked the dating icon and then leaned forward.  He had an email.  It was 6 days old.  Truckinduck.  He actually toyed with the idea of not opening it, but that would be counterproductive since he paid good money to get something like this from someone he did not even know.

     “Coffee?”  He remembered the email that he had sent saying “Hello.”  Seemed fair.  He suddenly remembered that long, lonely weekend  ahead of him and a plan began to form. 

     He typed “Starbucks at 4^th and Abriendo Saturday?”  He chose “send priority” and set back to see if she would answer.  Nothing happened for 10 minutes so he stood up and walked to the refrigerator.  That was bare.  He opened the cupboard and found the Cream of Wheat.  Microwave bowl, water to right there, 2 Tablespoons of Cream of wheat, stir, punch 2 minutes on the timer pad.  Then he heard his email click.

     He looked at the screen and read the 2 word answer. “What time?”  This was going to be a go!  He typed “10:00 A.M.” and hit the send button.  And then his microwave dinged and his Cream of Wheat was ready.  And as he stuck his spoon in the bowl and it stood up, he smiled.  Perfect!  He realized that he gave new meaning to Cream of Wheat, but that was how he liked it.  Tomorrow he would make his first social contact in Pueblo.  Might not be such a bad weekend after all.  He had picked that Starbucks because it was right by the realtor office and he knew where it was.  Usually when he was meeting someone for the first time, he managed to show up late.  This way he was not out a cup of coffee if the broad was a dog.  No reason to waste his money.  If she was a looker he might buy her a hamburger.  Or not.  No sense throwing good money after bad.  He clicked on her profile again.  No, she was not pretty.  She did have those green eyes and a nice smile.  She would never be a looker, but she would have to do until something better came along.

     And with that he headed off to bed and knew he would not need to set his alarm.  He would be awake plenty early to make it to Pueblo and the Starbucks by 10.

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Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's entirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Installment #10 Truckinduck

 

     Cynthia nervously opened the email from alfredj124.  She smiled as she stared incredulously at the one word, “Hello.”  Well, whoever this alfredj124 was it was apparent that he was a man of very few words.  She clicked on his profile again and then held down the ctrl key while she rolled the mouse wheel bringing his picture closer.  She looked into his sky blue eyes and tried to imagine what was behind the facade.  His eyes were intelligent, but cold.  Cold and far away.  And that hat.  What was with that?  Looked like the one Anthony Quinn had worn in that Zorba the Greek movie.  Oh, yeah, a newsboy hat.  Back in school they were called “Go to Hell” hats by the Allen Ginsberg followers.  “I belong to the Beat Generation.  I don’t let anything trouble my mind.  I belong to the Beat Generation, and everything’s going just fine.”

     Good Lord!  Where did that come from?  Long ago and not very far away, but another life time.  Was alfredj424 an old Beatnik?  She toyed with the idea of asking him.  She looked at him and his dog.  There was just something about the two of them.  It was definitely a posed picture and even the dog was posing.  That would be a trick getting Daisy and Elvira to pose or to even hold still.

     She looked once more into the cold blue eyes and then hit the “reply” button.  Now what to say…”Dear man with the most beautiful blue eyes…” (delete).  “Carry my own suit case?  I can throw it over your house if I want to.  And my weight according to my height?  What is your ratio?” (delete)  She stared at the blank page for a long moment and then typed only one word; “Coffee?”  Before she could change her mind, she hit the send button.