call, he had talked in riddles. Tonight's dinner would certainly prove interesting.
Debbie always enjoyed the long conversations with Michael. Each time he visited, they spent hours late at night sharing views on life, philosophy, politics, or how to raise chickens. They did not agree on everything but usually ended up very close in their opinions, sometimes after much debate. That was the fun part of it. They both enjoyed spirited discussions.
It might be awkward to explain to Walter that this man, who was not exactly family, would stay at her house for a while. Nevertheless, Debbie wasn't about to compromise. She never had and probably never would. Michael was a friend and family in law. Case closed.
That afternoon, when she pulled into the driveway of her suburban home, Debbie noticed the black Harley-Davidson and could not help but smile at the similarity between the machine and the man. Wild, handsome shiny steel, with raw power and reckless instincts.
Debbie found Michael on the back patio, playing with the German shepherd. Through the open sliding door, the smell of blooming roses filled the living room, mixing with the scent of Michael's aftershave. From the stereo, an unfamiliar radio station broadcast country rock, a kind of music she hadn’t listen to in years.
Michael really looked like a cowboy, with long jeans and boots. Debbie knew he never wore a hat, but he was true country all the same. So was she, inside, despite her many years in Washington. Michael reminded her of her roots... Arkansas seemed so far away.
"Did I leave the patio door unlocked?" Debbie inquired as a greeting.
"I guess so," Michael lied. “It's so good to see you."
They hugged, giving each other much-needed comfort.
*****
"I'll get the door," Michael told Debbie as she pulled off her apron and ran into the powder room. They had prepared dinner together. One more thing they had in common, they both enjoyed cooking.
The solid oak door opened to reveal a bunch of red carnations hiding a blue blazer and a smiling Walter. The grin dropped an inch and froze for a second while the two men took each other's measure. Walter, shorter and older than Michael, stared with frank blue eyes.
"Hi! Walter, I presume. Please, come in. Debbie will be right down." Michael liked Walter's strong handshake. A slight mind probe confirmed the favorable impression as he closed the door and hushed Walter into the living room.
"These need some water," said the older man, a little uneasy.
"Here." Michael took a tall crystal vase from a Chinese buffet and handed it to Walter with a smile. "The kitchen is that way. Would you like a drink?"
"Thanks, Maybe a glass of wine." Walter disappeared into the kitchen. Sounds of running water, big splash... "Shit!"
Michael ran into the kitchen to find Walter on all four, trying to mop a huge spill on the floor with paper towels.
"Hey man, let me do this. Don't be so nervous... She's crazy about you." Thinking this would be as good a time as any to test Walter’s view on the paranormal, Michael snapped his fingers, making the spill reabsorb and disappear, but not as fast as he expected. The flowers jumped into the vase, paper and ties vanishing from view into the garbage can.
"What in heaven?" Walter stared and followed Michael who took the flowers to the dining room table.
By that time Debbie appeared, smoothing her white summer dress, smelling good, with a fresh coat of lipstick, distracting Walter from asking any questions, although he looked in Michael's direction, puzzled. Debbie made the introductions then served a delicious tomato-tarragon-chicken dinner with French ratatouille. Michel refused the wine. Toward the end of dinner, the conversation turned to more serious matters. The time had come for Michael to find out if his plan could work.
He had the best possible audience. These two influential friends could mean success or failure. Michael had to win them over to his cause. Since ethics
Debbie always enjoyed the long conversations with Michael. Each time he visited, they spent hours late at night sharing views on life, philosophy, politics, or how to raise chickens. They did not agree on everything but usually ended up very close in their opinions, sometimes after much debate. That was the fun part of it. They both enjoyed spirited discussions.
It might be awkward to explain to Walter that this man, who was not exactly family, would stay at her house for a while. Nevertheless, Debbie wasn't about to compromise. She never had and probably never would. Michael was a friend and family in law. Case closed.
That afternoon, when she pulled into the driveway of her suburban home, Debbie noticed the black Harley-Davidson and could not help but smile at the similarity between the machine and the man. Wild, handsome shiny steel, with raw power and reckless instincts.
Debbie found Michael on the back patio, playing with the German shepherd. Through the open sliding door, the smell of blooming roses filled the living room, mixing with the scent of Michael's aftershave. From the stereo, an unfamiliar radio station broadcast country rock, a kind of music she hadn’t listen to in years.
Michael really looked like a cowboy, with long jeans and boots. Debbie knew he never wore a hat, but he was true country all the same. So was she, inside, despite her many years in Washington. Michael reminded her of her roots... Arkansas seemed so far away.
"Did I leave the patio door unlocked?" Debbie inquired as a greeting.
"I guess so," Michael lied. “It's so good to see you."
They hugged, giving each other much-needed comfort.
*****
"I'll get the door," Michael told Debbie as she pulled off her apron and ran into the powder room. They had prepared dinner together. One more thing they had in common, they both enjoyed cooking.
The solid oak door opened to reveal a bunch of red carnations hiding a blue blazer and a smiling Walter. The grin dropped an inch and froze for a second while the two men took each other's measure. Walter, shorter and older than Michael, stared with frank blue eyes.
"Hi! Walter, I presume. Please, come in. Debbie will be right down." Michael liked Walter's strong handshake. A slight mind probe confirmed the favorable impression as he closed the door and hushed Walter into the living room.
"These need some water," said the older man, a little uneasy.
"Here." Michael took a tall crystal vase from a Chinese buffet and handed it to Walter with a smile. "The kitchen is that way. Would you like a drink?"
"Thanks, Maybe a glass of wine." Walter disappeared into the kitchen. Sounds of running water, big splash... "Shit!"
Michael ran into the kitchen to find Walter on all four, trying to mop a huge spill on the floor with paper towels.
"Hey man, let me do this. Don't be so nervous... She's crazy about you." Thinking this would be as good a time as any to test Walter’s view on the paranormal, Michael snapped his fingers, making the spill reabsorb and disappear, but not as fast as he expected. The flowers jumped into the vase, paper and ties vanishing from view into the garbage can.
"What in heaven?" Walter stared and followed Michael who took the flowers to the dining room table.
By that time Debbie appeared, smoothing her white summer dress, smelling good, with a fresh coat of lipstick, distracting Walter from asking any questions, although he looked in Michael's direction, puzzled. Debbie made the introductions then served a delicious tomato-tarragon-chicken dinner with French ratatouille. Michel refused the wine. Toward the end of dinner, the conversation turned to more serious matters. The time had come for Michael to find out if his plan could work.
He had the best possible audience. These two influential friends could mean success or failure. Michael had to win them over to his cause. Since ethics
Similar Books
