A Ghost of a Chance by Evelyn Klebert Page A

was expecting a visitor. It had been about seven’ o’clock in the morning when the phone rang. Actually it had been only several hours before that she had finally gotten to sleep.
    The first series of rings she had let the voice mail pick up and then whoever it was called back and back and back until finally she, “Yeah, what?” she managed to get out, trying to smother her colossal irritation.
    “ Hallie?”
    “ Yes,” she sat up in bed, rubbing her aching, tired eyes.
    “ I bet you don’t know who this is.”
    She paused seriously debating whether or not to hang up immediately. “You’d win,” she snapped out more harshly than she imagined was appropriate.
    Undaunted the caller continued, “Think back now. Isn’t my voice familiar?”
    She stared at the phone with malice. Who the hell? “Look, whoever this is. . .”
    “ Okay, I’ll give you a hint. Mexican food and lots of margaritas.”
    She said nothing.
    “ Okay, if you give up . . .”
    “ I do,” quietly.
    “ It’s Greg Wasserstrom.”
    And then confusion,“Who?”
    “ Oh come on, you’re hurting my ego. You remember dinner with Dick and Monica.”
    She swallowed, couldn’t be. “Was that really your name, Wasserstrom?”
    “ You’re hurting my feelings.”
    “ Look Greg, it’s kind of early for me. I was up late, last night.”
    “ Not another wild party.”
    “ I was writing,” she stated flatly and a tad perturbed. “Yeah that’s right. Well, I just wanted to tell you that this is your lucky day.” Evidently he was not one for subtlety.
    “ No kidding,” she murmured in a yawn.
    “ I’m on my way into town on business, and I wanted to come see you.”
    Again she said nothing, she tried to dig deep into her sluggish mind for an excuse, but it was unfairly just way too early to be creative. “Um, well Greg, I am kind of involved doing a lot of work on the book.”
    “ Then, you need a break.”
    “ Ummm.”
    “ I’ll be over there about ten. I’ll bring some donuts; so don’t have breakfast, just put on coffee. What’s your favorite kind?”
    “ Kind?” Was this really happening?
    “ Of donut.”
    “ Chocolate frosted.” It wasn’t but nothing else came to mind.
    “ With sprinkles?”
    “ No, I don’t like sprinkles.” Had she snapped at him about sprinkles? She couldn’t be sure.
    “ Super, I’ll see you there. Monica gave me directions to your house. So I can find you easy.”
    “ Oh good.” And then mercifully, it all ended.
    She checked around the den critically. It looked OK. It wasn’t like she wanted to impress him. It wasn’t even like she wanted him here. This just felt so much like Monica. She would have to murder her later.
    The doorbell rang, and she opened the door to the disturbingly white smile of Greg Wasserstrom. There seemed to be an endless stretch of awkwardness in which they just stared at each other. “Are you going to let me in or are we going to eat donuts on the porch?” Good grief, he was chipper.
    She smiled and stepped back to let him in. This was going to be rough. She didn’t remember him being so annoying. But then again, she didn’t remember a whole heck of a lot from that night. “Well Hallie, this is a cozy house. Atmospheric, I guess that’s good for a writer.”
    “ It suits me. You want a plate? I mean, do you like your donuts on a plate?”
    “ That would be super.”
    She nodded, “Why don’t you come in the kitchen and get your coffee?”
    She waited and then he added expectedly, “Super.”
     
    They sat at the small dinette table that Hallie had placed in the breakfast nook of her kitchen. It was right next to a large window overlooking the rolling hills of her backyard. She found herself looking out of it often and wondering when Greg Wasserstrom was going to leave. It had been only about half an hour but had felt like a decade.
    “ How’s your donut Hallie? You’ve barely touched it.”
    She smiled, “Oh my stomach is a little out of sorts