She peered out between the blinds, which were open partway to let the air in. The sky was leaden with only occasional breaks in the heavy overcast. Kari hoped it wasn’t going to rain. She assumed her assignment for the Larrimore campaign involved handing out flyers again, something less than fun in the rain.
She dressed, made breakfast, and hurried to the computer. Logging on, she found several pieces of email waiting. Naturally, she opened Max’s first.
My dear,
It’s 6 AM. I’m off to jog as soon as I write and send this...but before I go get my exercise for the day, let me answer your questions.
My plans for today? Read the Sunday paper cover to cover, play chess with a friend, tinker with my car some more if there’s time.
My house? It’s yellow and white, two stories, three bedrooms. I grew up here. My mom died a few years ago and my dad moved to Arizona, deeding the house over to me. (My brother—my only sibling—didn’t want it. He lives in Idaho on a ranch. And I guess that answers all your questions about my family, too, in one fell swoop—or is that one swell foop?)
No, I’ve never been married before. Engaged, yes. And you? And tell me about your family, too. And your house. And any pets. (I have a cat, Pandora, who gets into everything.)
Well, if I go on at much more length, I’ll have nothing left to say when we finally meet face-to-face. So, since I’m all dressed for jogging, let me get going. I’ll see you here later.
Yours,
Max
Nothing about what he’d done last night. Rats! And that tantalizing tidbit about a prior engagement—why did he have to be so terse about it? Didn’t he know Kari would want to know more about it? Like how long ago, why he didn’t marry the woman, whether she lived nearby and he still ran into her, and all that other important stuff.
The idea that they’d have nothing to say when they met face-to-face was preposterous...though of course he probably was being facetious. And the fact he hadn’t said who was coming over to play chess with him...had that been a deliberate omission? Was it a woman?
Chiding herself for paranoia, Kari finished her breakfast, which she’d been eating as she read, and composed a reply to him. She was somewhat lengthier than he’d been, but she kept her nagging worries out of the letter, not asking who he was playing chess with, nor even asking for details of the engagement. They certainly
would
have something to talk about when they finally got together in person.
Pouring another cup of coffee, she returned to the computer and answered the rest of her email, then retrieved the Sunday paper from the azaleas and settled into her comfy, big chair. It was time to catch up on the news of the world at large now that she’d caught up on the news of her own little sphere.
The weather forecast was for mostly cloudy with a chance of showers, and unseasonably warm. Beyond that, the news was the usual mélange of battles, crimes, and disasters...the stuff that makes newspapers sell...plus all the extra features that get thrown in on Sunday.
She decided she didn’t have time for the crossword, and was pleased. There had been many Sundays when the puzzle was the highlight of her day. It was nice—practically an accomplishment—that she wouldn’t have time for it at all today!
Kari still hadn’t finished the paper by quarter-to-one, but she put it aside to go to Larrimore’s headquarters. Jeff was talking on the phone and scribbling on a piece of paper. His perpetual grin was damped down. Kari wondered what was amiss.
Standing quietly at the long table that was doubling as a desk for the duration, Kari gleaned the information that Jeff couldn’t find quite a few boxes of campaign flyers. “But they were here when I left last night,” Jeff exploded into the phone. “Who locked up last night? Were you the last one out the door? Well, who was? Were the flyers still here when you left? Well, dammit, they’ve got to be
somewhere!”
Kari went over to grab a cup of coffee from the big electric pot. When she returned to the long table, Jeff was off the phone. “I don’t know if we’re dealing with incompetence or worse,” he said, running his hand distractedly through his already-disheveled hair. “But I guess there’s nothing more I can do now. We have some flyers. We’ll make do with what we’ve got. Eileen?” And he turned to another volunteer nearby. “See what you can find out about those flyers. Kari and I are going out to the flea market.”
Well, now she knew what her assignment was. Two minutes later, she was in Jeff’s car, leaving hers behind at the storefront. They had a load of flyers with them and were headed to the gates of the flea market, where they would talk to people on their way in or out, handing out flyers and trying to explain to the electorate at large why Ron Larrimore was the better candidate.
At least, that was the plan, but after just forty-five minutes, the skies opened. “Let’s wait it out in the car,” Jeff suggested. “It may blow over quickly. I’d hate to give up, go back to headquarters, and then have the sun come out five minutes later.” So they sat in the car, talking.
“Is this your first time volunteering for a campaign?” Jeff asked.
“Does it show?”
“Your enthusiasm is boundless...the mark of a neophyte. We veterans know better than to volunteer so eagerly, so willingly, so much.”
“You should talk—I think you live at campaign headquarters!”
“But I’m crazy! What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. In fact, you remind me a little of my friend Lylah.”
“Is that good or bad? You did say ‘friend,’ not ‘enemy.’”
“You’ve both got weird senses of humor. I like that in a person.”
“Then you’re saying I
am
crazy! Point proven!”
“What are you, a lawyer or something?”
“Almost...I mean, I almost became one.”
“What happened? Why didn’t you become a lawyer?”
“I didn’t have the patience—or the money, I guess—for that much school. So at eighteen, I changed careers before I started. I became a lunatic volunteer. And an accountant for a living,” he added.
“A
lunatic
accountant.”
“Most definitely. Though I think I spend more time as a volunteer than as an accountant.”
“What do you volunteer for when it’s not political season?”
“There’s always something. One thing I do is entertain really sick kids in the hospital. You’re looking at the one, the only, Marbles the Clown.”
“Mild-mannered accountant by day, you zip into the nearest phone booth when summoned by a doctor, change clothes into your clown outfit, which you’re wearing under your business suit, hop into your Clownmobile....”
“Wrong superhero. Clowns ride tiny tricycles.”
“I can see you on it now.” Kari laughed.
“Wait’ll you see the real thing.”
“Well, invite me along then. I work a mean sock puppet.” And Kari made her two hands talk to each other about the uncooperative weather, to Jeff’s amusement. As the rain pelted the van, the two of them laughed like loons. Kari hadn’t laughed that hard since the last time she’d gotten together with Lylah.
“You’re fun!” She pronounced her verdict enthusiastically. “You’ve got to get together with us the next time Lylah and I do dinner...oops, not the
next
time—that’s tomorrow, and I’ve already got it half prepared, and there’s just enough for the two of us. But the
next
time after that. You two will get along famously.”
“I accept,” Jeff said, bowing his head mock-gravely.
Was there such a title as “second-best friend”? Kari wondered if she had found hers. She was truly enjoying Jeff’s company, and she felt very relaxed with him. Like Lylah, he was both fun and easy to be with.
The clatter of rain on the van’s roof seemed to ease up a little. Kari looked out the window...still raining, but it definitely looked like it was slowing. “I almost went out and left a window open,” Jeff said. “I have a friend who ruined his computer that way.” And then they got into a discussion of computers with Jeff explaining why he favored Macs over PCs. Kari decided that even when Jeff was serious, he was enjoyable.
The rain stopped abruptly, and the pair climbed out of the van and returned to handing out flyers.
Monday morning dawned still grey, though dry. Kari got out of bed a half hour earlier than her former wake up time, as had recently become her habit, so she’d have time to read and answer her email before leaving for work. There were two letters, one from Max and one from a pen pal named Vicki. She read the letter from Vicki first, skimming quickly through it and saving it to answer later.
Max’s letter commanded her full attention. This one she didn’t just skim. In fact, she didn’t even merely read it—she devoured it. Then she prepared to answer it, but as she started typing, she noticed her “E” key was sticking. Cursing all the way through the letter, she got through it as best she could, but clearly she had to do something about that damn key.
Leaving the computer in the shop was not an acceptable option. Without the computer, Max would be out of reach. She suspected, anyway, that this was something Steve could fix for her...which would cost a hell of a lot less than the shop would charge her, too. Steve would work on it for free. She’d only have to pay for any parts or supplies.
She reached Steve at the campaign office. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” she asked. “I’m having a little computer problem—my ‘E’ key is sticking, and I don’t know what to do about it. Of course, Lylah’s coming over for dinner at 7:00. You could come with her...I could stop at the store and pick up some more food, and you could join us...or you could even run over beforehand if you didn’t want to eat with us.”
Kari didn’t really want him to join them. She was looking forward to laughing and being silly with Lylah, who was never as much fun when Steve was around. But she couldn’t be ungracious.
“I’ve got plans for dinner,” Steve said, and Kari brightened, but only momentarily. “So I couldn’t come over tonight. And I’m kind of busy tomorrow, too. If you can’t get anyone else to look at it, I’ll try to run by on Wednesday night. By the way, you might want to call Lylah.”
This last sentence was tossed off oh-so-casually, so much so that Kari’s antennae went up. “Oh?” she asked, her voice rising.
Steve didn’t take the bait. “You can probably catch her at work now,” was all he added, leaving Kari to wonder what was up.
What was up was that Lylah wasn’t feeling “very peppy,” as she put it, “or very hungry these days...and it would be a shame to waste a perfectly good dinner. Besides, Ginny has a load of baby clothes...hand-me-downs...that she said she could bring by this evening for me to look at. Since I couldn’t see any point to eating when my stomach feels so blah, I said, ‘Sure.’ I meant to call you earlier. I’m glad Steve said something.”
Kari remembered her conversation with Jeff, whose areas of expertise included computers. Maybe he could rescue her from her current predicament. The one with the computer, that is, not Lylah’s no-show. Though, as much fun as Jeff was, he might even develop into a good friend as well as an emergency computer repairman.
Digging through her purse, Kari located Jeff’s phone number. His machine answered. “Politicians aren’t supposed to accept bribes,” she said to the machine, “but since you’re not a politician, I hope you’re susceptible to bribery. This is Kari Crandall. Would the promise of a delicious dinner tempt you into coming by my house to fix my computer this evening? Stuck ‘E’ key. Don’t know what to do about it. And you’re a Mac person, so you should know your way around my keyboard.
“I have the fixings for a yummy dinner, and no guest coming. A friend cancelled. Her loss can be your gain. Am I tempting you? And if you can’t come for dinner, can you at least fix the machine?” she pleaded. “I called my other Mac guru, but he gave me the cold shoulder. Help!” Then, she left her home and office phone numbers.
At a little after 1:00, Jeff called her at work. “I checked my voicemail at lunchtime and found you on it. I don’t know,” he tormented her. “Is the dinner going to be worth it? I need to know the menu before I’ll commit.”
“You rat!”
“What time do you want me there?”
“Give me a chance to go home and cook.”
And read Max’s latest letter in private.
“I’ll see you around 7:00?”
“Seven it is. Give me your address and directions to your house.”
Rushing frantically, Kari got home by 6:00. By 6:15 the dinner was cooking. By 6:30 she was in good shape to take a “Max break.” She logged on and found his letter.
My dear,
Just home from work. I wish you were here to greet me. Now, that would perk me up after a long, tiring day. Nothing is amiss; just a hard, exhausting day. But how nice to know I will at least be “talking” to you at the end of it.
Say, that makes me think—why don’t you send me your phone number, and I’ll call you one of these nights? What time do you go to bed? I’ll call you at bedtime and we can “get in bed together.” It won’t be as good as feeling your soft, velvety skin against mine, feeling the warmth of your body, cupping your full breasts in my strong hands. But it will do till the real thing...which I hope will happen soon.