computer
program just won't do the trick.” Then as professionally as she
could, she walked out of his office.
* * *
The windshield wipers flashed back and forth
as the rain continued to fall heavily outside of Laura's van. She
had been grateful to have the vehicle back so quickly from the
garage, but groaned when confronted with the bill. Indeed the
problem had been the alternator—as well as the fuel pump, a leak in
the radiator, and the watcha-ma-callit the mechanic tried
unsuccessfully to explain to Laura's lame-brain. But she was
pleased she had a means of transportation to Huntsville, a town
some sixty kilometers north, for her appointment with yet another
investor.
Her pleasure, however, was short-lived as her
request for financial backing was, once again, refused. Turning off
the provincial highway she headed east past a small harbor and
followed a deserted township road leading back to her home in
Bracebridge. Their explanation had been the same, if not more
pleasantly put, than Dexter O'Reilly's. Their company just didn't
have the extra surplus to invest in Laura's new, somewhat
uncertain, organization.
She scoffed at their choice of words. What
they really meant was they found her to be a risky, insecure
investment in which they wouldn't give a solitary dollar to help
out. At least Dexter had been honest and up front, if not rude and
to the point.
The rain began to fall faster and heavier
causing Laura to increase the speed of her wiper's. She had just
rounded a bend when she noticed a lone vehicle parked alongside the
shoulder of the road. The hood was up and the occupant was outside
peering into the engine as the rain hammered down around him. He
was obviously not immune to the cold climate surrounding him, as he
was not properly dressed for it. Even from her point of view, she
could see his dark trench coat and thick brown locks were
completely drenched.
Without even seeing his face, recognition was
swift. She slowed her vehicle and pulled up beside Dexter
O'Reilly's black Volvo. He looked briefly relieved at the
assistance in the form of Laura’s approaching vehicle, but frankly
more disturbed as he reached for the handle and swung the passenger
door open. Immediately, the pouring rain blasted the interior of
the van before Dexter seated himself and slammed the door shut
behind him.
“Thanks for stopping. I'm grateful for—” He
turned in his seat and gave the driver his full attention for the
first time. Large hazel eyes grew bigger in anger. “You again!”
She grinned. “Yep,”
She took in his damp appearance, from the wet
heavy mop of his dark hair down to the genuine leather waterlogged
shoes at his feet. An unexpected pleasure lifted her spirits. At
least some good would come out of the day.
Infuriated, he turned back to the door and
began to grope unsuccessfully at the handle, reminding Laura
repairs on the passenger door handle were still needed. “For pity's
sakes, don't be foolish.”
“Damnation! How the hell do you open this
thing?” he spat out angrily, his temper, obviously beginning to
rise.
“You're being ridiculous. It's pouring
outside.”
“I'd rather wait for the next vehicle,
thanks, so if you wouldn't mind opening this door!”
“I will not. There are barely any cars out on
the road today because of the rain. You could be waiting for hours
before the next one stopped.”
He growled a negative response.
Determinedly, she crossed her arms over her
breast. “Dexter O'Reilly you are being childish. You won't even
accept help from another.”
“Wrong. Just you.” He fiddled harder with the
knob.
Laura sighed. “Do you have CAA?”
Disgruntled, he replied, “Generally no need
for it.”
She shrugged. “Well, seems to me you have no
other options.”
“Just let me out and I’ll walk to the closest
farm and call a garage.”
“What’s wrong with your cellular?”
Slightly abashed, he shifted in his seat and
answered shortly,
program just won't do the trick.” Then as professionally as she
could, she walked out of his office.
* * *
The windshield wipers flashed back and forth
as the rain continued to fall heavily outside of Laura's van. She
had been grateful to have the vehicle back so quickly from the
garage, but groaned when confronted with the bill. Indeed the
problem had been the alternator—as well as the fuel pump, a leak in
the radiator, and the watcha-ma-callit the mechanic tried
unsuccessfully to explain to Laura's lame-brain. But she was
pleased she had a means of transportation to Huntsville, a town
some sixty kilometers north, for her appointment with yet another
investor.
Her pleasure, however, was short-lived as her
request for financial backing was, once again, refused. Turning off
the provincial highway she headed east past a small harbor and
followed a deserted township road leading back to her home in
Bracebridge. Their explanation had been the same, if not more
pleasantly put, than Dexter O'Reilly's. Their company just didn't
have the extra surplus to invest in Laura's new, somewhat
uncertain, organization.
She scoffed at their choice of words. What
they really meant was they found her to be a risky, insecure
investment in which they wouldn't give a solitary dollar to help
out. At least Dexter had been honest and up front, if not rude and
to the point.
The rain began to fall faster and heavier
causing Laura to increase the speed of her wiper's. She had just
rounded a bend when she noticed a lone vehicle parked alongside the
shoulder of the road. The hood was up and the occupant was outside
peering into the engine as the rain hammered down around him. He
was obviously not immune to the cold climate surrounding him, as he
was not properly dressed for it. Even from her point of view, she
could see his dark trench coat and thick brown locks were
completely drenched.
Without even seeing his face, recognition was
swift. She slowed her vehicle and pulled up beside Dexter
O'Reilly's black Volvo. He looked briefly relieved at the
assistance in the form of Laura’s approaching vehicle, but frankly
more disturbed as he reached for the handle and swung the passenger
door open. Immediately, the pouring rain blasted the interior of
the van before Dexter seated himself and slammed the door shut
behind him.
“Thanks for stopping. I'm grateful for—” He
turned in his seat and gave the driver his full attention for the
first time. Large hazel eyes grew bigger in anger. “You again!”
She grinned. “Yep,”
She took in his damp appearance, from the wet
heavy mop of his dark hair down to the genuine leather waterlogged
shoes at his feet. An unexpected pleasure lifted her spirits. At
least some good would come out of the day.
Infuriated, he turned back to the door and
began to grope unsuccessfully at the handle, reminding Laura
repairs on the passenger door handle were still needed. “For pity's
sakes, don't be foolish.”
“Damnation! How the hell do you open this
thing?” he spat out angrily, his temper, obviously beginning to
rise.
“You're being ridiculous. It's pouring
outside.”
“I'd rather wait for the next vehicle,
thanks, so if you wouldn't mind opening this door!”
“I will not. There are barely any cars out on
the road today because of the rain. You could be waiting for hours
before the next one stopped.”
He growled a negative response.
Determinedly, she crossed her arms over her
breast. “Dexter O'Reilly you are being childish. You won't even
accept help from another.”
“Wrong. Just you.” He fiddled harder with the
knob.
Laura sighed. “Do you have CAA?”
Disgruntled, he replied, “Generally no need
for it.”
She shrugged. “Well, seems to me you have no
other options.”
“Just let me out and I’ll walk to the closest
farm and call a garage.”
“What’s wrong with your cellular?”
Slightly abashed, he shifted in his seat and
answered shortly,
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