Installment #26

Installment #26

Meg

Meg stepped out of the little silver Ford and took the
parking stub from the valet. She smiled as she walked into
the lobby of the Sheraton and spotted the entrance to the
restaurant. She smiled at the maitre de and told him she was
meeting some one. “Is he here yet? His name is Eldon.”

“No one by that name has checked in yet. Perhaps
madam would like to wait at the bar and I will let you know
when he arrives?”
 Meg agreed and soon found herself seated
at the bar. She checked her watch and saw that it was already
12:20. Eldon had said noon. He was already 20 minutes late.
Well maybe he had gotten tied up. Things do have a way of
doing that. She ordered a glass of white wine and began her
favorite pastime of people watching. By one o’clock she was
fidgeting and by 2:00 she was fuming. The clientele in the
lounge had turned over at least once. The waiter was
beginning to look askance at her. She knew how many
glasses of wine she had sipped and that she really needed to
get something in her stomach before she started the long drive
home. She caught the waiter’s eye.

“ I guess my friend is tied up. Might I have a small
table, preferably by a window? I really should eat something
before I drive my car.” She smiled at the sad young man.

“Certainly, ma’am. I have just the table for you. Great
view of the garden and if you stretch your neck to the right you
can see the fountain.”

“Then I shall ‘stretch my neck’!” She laughed as she rose
to follow him to the table. Once more she was seated, but this
time with a glass of Raspberry Iced Tea instead of wine and a
blackened tilapia served on wild rice with pinon and basil,
recommended by Jerome, the waiter who reminded her very
much of her dear Kevin. She had craned her neck and managed
to see the fountain, which was indeed a work of art. But then so
were the gardens.

She would reserve judgment on Eldon aka “redranger”
until she heard from him. He might have a very good excuse.
Or he might be what the Internet warned us all about, a faceless
little creep hiding behind the boiler in a prison somewhere
figuring out a way to get to Meg Parker. She made a silent vow
to herself to find out more about this man that she had become so
attached to through her computer. But right now she just wanted
to go home, back to her part of the mountain where she felt safe
and not so vulnerable as here in the middle of Denver, Colorado,
waiting for a man that she knew was not coming.

She put her money with the bill and closed the cover,
leaving a very generous tip for Jerome. She crossed the lobby
and handed her ticket stub to the valet and waited. When the
little silver car arrived, she tipped the valet and climbed inside.
She adjusted the seat, checked the mirror and pulled into traffic.
She did not notice the black Jeep pull onto the street at the same
time. Nor did she notice the black Jeep when she took the ramp
to I 25 South. Nor as she turned on the Johnny Mathis CD, one
of her deviations from Country Western.

She began to sing along with him “There is someone,
watching your footsteps , Turn around, look at me! There is
someone waiting to hold you, Turn around, look at me. For I
have waited, and I‘ll wait forever, for you to come to me.
Turn around, look at me!”

And she was completely oblivious when she turned into
her yard and pulled into her garage.

But He was not.