by : 

Paul took his hands down from the cold glass of the airport window and reached to his back pocket for his handkerchief. He thought that he must look awful, as he mopped the tears from his face. He never expected this.

He had been so concerned that he and his internet friend would not find each other quite as fascinating in real life, that he had not considered that they would fall so completely in love at their first meeting. Now, Rachel’s plane had left and he felt as though he could not continue to live without her.

He had to get out of the airport. He looked in the window, at his reflection, and judged himself presentable. He scanned the reflected room. People were all around, going about their business. Nobody was watching him; he felt it safe to turn around and make his way out.

"Why did you let her go?"

It occurred to Paul that he was thinking out loud, but then he realized that it was not his voice. Paul quickly turned around and saw him. Paul had not seen the reflection because the source of the voice was directly behind him, and not more than five feet away. The man appeared to be in his late sixties, with completely white hair. He was medium height, slender, and stood straight and square. His deep blue eyes had a piercing gaze, directed straight into Paul’s.

"You should have run after her. That is what you both wanted."

It did not even occur to Paul that this was an invasion of his privacy. He actually wanted to talk about it. He needed to talk about it. "I couldn’t."

"What the hell stopped you? My son and I watched you two, before he got on the plane. We haven’t seen two people more in love since…. And you let her go. Why?"

"We have two separate lives, fifteen hundred miles apart. It would not be fair for either to ask the other to give theirs up."

"What kind of lives?" The older man shouted with disgust, "I had the same problem long ago. I fell in love in college. When I got back to Texas, I realized I could not live without her. I moved back up here and begged her to be my wife. My Sadie and I had fifty-two wonderful years together, until cancer took her eighteen months ago."

"I am so sorry." Paul said, meaning it with all of his wounded heart.

"No, I am sorry for you. I had all those years; you have nothing."

For a moment, the older man’s eyes became softer, then he collected himself and the piercing stare returned. He almost shouted it: "Do what your heart is telling you, screaming at you. Go to her."

"But……"

The older man turned and walked swiftly away, shaking his head in apparent disgust.

"….we have other people in our lives. We agreed to meet only once." Paul continued, even though nobody was listening. Paul realized how stupid he would have sounded to the man, how stupid it sounded to him.

He walked out of the airport, his emotions on a rollercoaster ride. He had allowed himself to consider asking Rachel for another meeting – just one final meeting. He could not leave things as they are. It was just too painful.

Then the rollercoaster went down and he considered how selfish he was being. She had a life of her own, a rising career in real estate with the family firm, two young children, and Billy.

Billy was Rachel’s boyfriend. She had told Paul how much Billy meant to her, how she was considering settling down with him. In her stories, she had even graphically described making love with him.

That, in itself, did not bother Paul. They were both erotic writers and he was certainly used to the terms. It was just another part of the open, honest relationship they had over the net. Now, the thought of her with someone else was strangely uncomfortable to him.

Paul battled with this new possessive feeling as he walked to his car. He had always had such an open, honest relationship with Rachel, but more than that. They were so much alike that they sent nearly identical emails to each other at the same time. They had bared their souls, talking freely about any aspect of their lives. He had always promised her, and himself, that would never change.

Paul stopped in his tracks on that thought. In the very beginning, he had told Rachel a lie, and he hated himself for it. It was such a simple, little thing, done only, in his mind, to protect her. Now, it burned his soul, because it was the only untruth between him and the woman he loved.

On that thought, Paul considered abandoning any effort to see Rachel again, but he could not let go of the idea. The feeling of touching her, the image of her smile, was too fresh, too dear.

He resolved that would not suggest another meeting. No, he thought, he would only create an opportunity for her to suggest it. He knew it was not fair to set her up to violate their agreement, but he could not take the chance that he would be responsible for disrupting her life. He was rationalizing everything.

He got in the car and got out of the airport lot. The three-hour drive back to Marblehead would be torture. He had nowhere to hide from the guilt building from his thoughts.

He was halfway home when the cellphone rang. He was absolutely shocked, realizing that he had left it in the car all weekend. This was the first time he had ever been out of contact with his business. In his excitement in being with Rachel, he had not done the autonomic clipping the phone to his belt every time he left the car. The third ring snapped him out of his thoughts.

He picked up the phone and braced himself for the certain business crisis to be announced. "Yes," he said in his most professional voice.

"The phone in the seat back in front of me just fell in my lap and called you."

"Rachel! I am so glad to hear your voice." The tears started to roll down his cheeks.

"How are you doing?"

"Have you ever missed someone so much it hurts?"

"Not until now. I am running the airplane out of Kleenex."

"I know the feeling. We’ll get through this."

"We still have each other, in our very special way." She always had a way to put a positive spin on things.

"Rachel, the hardest thing was being out of touch with you until you got home, and you just fixed that. I just realized that I left the phone in the car the whole weekend. I was completely out of touch with the business. I never even thought about it."

"Maybe the workaholic should realize that the world can run without him watching over it every second. I am glad I helped you to realize that – if you actually have. You know I think you work too hard."

Before he could respond, Paul could hear an announcement from the airplane.

"I have to go. They are getting ready to land."

"I’ll see you in the chatroom. I love you. Bye."

"I love you too. Bye"

Paul held the phone in his hand as he played the conversation back in his mind. Over and over, he remembered the words they had just said to each other: ‘I love you’.

He finally put the phone down, then picked it back up. Something Rachel said got him thinking. He dialed his office and checked his voicemail. Nothing. She was right, the business could run without him being on top of it all of the time. He was a bit astonished. That business was his life.

It all started with a small strip shopping center in a residential neighborhood. Family businesses from downtown had moved to it during the suburban migration of the sixties. The owner of the property wanted to retire and move to Florida, so he offered it to Paul with full financing.

All Paul started with was that loan and a dream. Then things got tough. The owners of those family businesses started to retire, or get squeezed out by Wal-Mart. By 1982, the shopping center had so many vacancies that it was not paying for its own debt.

It was a common problem with older, smaller retailing centers. They were being outmoded by larger, regional shopping centers with national tenants. It was the beginning of the end of the little guy in retailing.

Paul took the biggest gamble of his life, that is, until he agreed to meet Rachel. He quit his day job, borrowed way too much money, especially for a guy going broke, and changed the use of the center from retail to medical. He thought it was foolish to believe that the retail tenants would come back. He also suspected, as part of the aging baby boom, that medical services would soon be in greater demand closer to home.

Paul designed the operation to be a condo-clinic. Health care providers of mixed specialty would have their own examining, treatment, and office rooms. Reception, records, and insurance claim handling was handled by a shared, central facility. The economies of scale appealed to the providers, just as they were being pressured by the insurance industry to cut costs.

Although he never marketed the concept to the public under the name, he called it ‘Doc in the Box’. It was the right idea at the right time. Soon the property was full of health care providers, from a cardiologist to a Shiatsu Massage Therapist. They all loved it and they all paid rent far above what the old retailers did.

Paul looked around and found that there were lots of older strip centers falling on hard times and available at fire sale prices. By 1993, there were fourteen Doc in a Box’s. Then he found a way to really achieve economies of scale. He took the insurance claim handling out of all the locations and put it all in one place. He called it Claim Jumper.

The Doc in a Box locations scanned in the paperwork and sent it over the internet to Claim Jumper for processing. Then the real efficiency came into play. Claim jumper was not set up like a traditional third-party claim administrator, with specialists for specific providers or medical practice areas. At Claim Jumper, the specialists were aligned with a single insurance company. Each knew the procedures, policies, and culture of the company they submitted claims to.

That resulted in faster payment, far fewer denials, and great efficiency. Everyone won: providers spent far less time on collecting fees, patients did not have to see denied bills, and insurance companies saved significantly on processing costs.

The best thing about Claim Jumper, to Paul, was that it was invisible. Ninety-nine percent of communications were on line or fax. It just ran smoothly, in the background, as a value added to Doc in the Box. While there was always a maintenance issue with Doc in the Box, like a leaky roof, Claim Jumper never called Paul at home.

The other thing Paul liked about Claim Jumper was that it was not limited to Paul’s property lines. Claim Jumper, on recommendation from the insurance companies, handled the claims of clinics across the country. Like Doc in the Box, Claim Jumper was not known by its real name. It was marketed nationally under several different names.

Nevertheless, Doc in the Box was Paul’s baby. With twenty-two locations, it was something he could proudly point to as his creation. Nobody would ever see Claim Jumper. Only the employees even knew where it was.

* * * *

A little over an hour after Rachel’s call, he was home. He drove through the gates and to the end of the drive. The light of the half moon was shimmering on the harbor behind the house and outlining the rigging of his sailboat, tied up at the dock.

He loved the place, even though work took him from it most of the time. It had been built a century and a quarter ago by a clipper ship fleet owner who made a fortune in the China Trade. When Paul bought it, the descendants of that wealth had exhausted it, burning the furniture they had not sold or auctioned, in the fireplaces, for heat.

Paul spent a fortune restoring it, including locating and buying back some of the original furnishings and art. The home sat above the harbor and had a magnificent ocean view. The huge carriage house had been restored to an eight car garage with modern offices on the second floor – the secret location of Claim Jumper. Everything in those offices was cutting edge. The only paper there were post-it notes.

Paul parked the car in the carriage house and got the suitcase out of the trunk. He walked through the covered portico and into the side door. The house was lit up; everything was electronically controlled. He walked into the living room and saw Cindy.

"Hello," she said without turning to look at him.

"Hello, Cindy," he answered.

"How ‘ya doing?" she asked, again, not looking at him.

"Not so good. I’m really tired. I think I will check my email and go to bed." He took his bag up to the bedroom and unpacked, being careful to place any mementos of the past weekend in a special, private place.

He went back down and into the den/office, being careful not to pass by Cindy. He did not want to get started with her.

He checked his email, finding little of interest. Then, he went into the private chat room he had set up for him and Rachel. It was a hidden spot on the Claim Jumper website. Only he and Rachel knew the two passwords necessary to get in. He waited. It would be another hour and a half before she would be home.

* * * *

He awoke in the big chair and looked at the clock - 2:12AM. He looked at the screen. It had a message from her: "Missing you". He had fallen asleep and missed it! He replied, but she was not there. He thought of calling, but he decided to let her sleep. He went upstairs to bed, very disappointed in himself and very concerned that he had not been there for her.

Exhausted as Paul was, he slept little and woke often. The events of the past weekend played over and over in his head. Her absence bothered him so much: if only he had talked with her in the chat room. She seemed so very far away, but so close to his heart.

At four in the morning, he finally gave up on sleep. He showered, dressed, and went to the downtown Boston office. Finding traffic lighter than he was used to, he considered making the earlier trip a habit.

There were few projects on his desk that held his attention, but he worked through the simpler ones, with one eye on the messaging window of their private chat room. Finally, at 7:40, the words appeared, and the exchanges he had so longed for began:

Rose> Missing you.

Paul> Glad you could join me. I missed you too. Was your trip home okay?

Rose> I hated every mile that grew between us.

Paul> Me too. Maybe it was not such a good idea to agree to meet, only once.

Rose> The meet part, or the once part?

Paul> The once.

Rose> Honey, it would not have happened otherwise, but I feel the same, right now.

Paul> Don’t worry, I won’t mess up your life.

Rose> Nor I yours, but I do miss you.

Paul> I’m here for you, you know that.

Rose> I do. Katrina just called her mom. That would be me.

Paul> Time to get the troops ready for school. I’ll talk with you later. Bye for now.

Rose> Bye, love.

He was glad to hear from her, but he hated himself for backing down, and for not wanting to back down. He wanted to tell her how much he wanted to see her again, but could not bring himself to be so selfish. He resolved to allow her to have her life, to take a step back.

* * * *

"One of our clinics has been shut down for giving Viagra to space aliens. The problem is that there is no limit to how big their penises can get and one of them swung around and took down the Prudential Tower."

"Okay, I’ll take care of it," Paul said without looking up.

He realized that she was not leaving and looked up. "What is the matter, Bug, Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I have never seen you so serious. You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?"

"Actually, no. Sorry, now what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Forget it, I was making it up to see if you really were here, or in some other place. I have not seen you like this since….Ohmygod! You’re in love!"

‘The Bug’ was Paul’s Administrative Assistant. She had not been in the office a half-hour and she had him figured out. They knew each other too well.

She had walked into his office, purely by chance ten years ago, looking for a job. He gave her a chance. It appeared to be a long shot. She was right out of high school, with no experience or business training. She dressed provocatively, had a black cat tattoo on her ankle, and an earthy countenance. Paul saw beyond the rebellious teen. He saw an energetic young woman with an analytical mind. She had rough edges, but she could think on her feet.

It was one of the better chances he ever took - what a worker! Paul could give her two days of work and she would finish it by noon. He decided to harness that ambition and sent her to evening classes. She got her Associates Degree in accounting and, in doing so, learned some business etiquette at Kathryn Gibbs School in Boston. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, The Bug runs the entire Doc in the Box office.

Her real name is June, but he started calling her June-Bug. Soon, she was simply The Bug. Delightful and efficient, she is also hyperactive - about as calm as the Cocoa Puffs Bird.

"You got me. I’m in love all right, but it is certainly doomed."

"Why?"

"She lives fifteen hundred miles away and she is eighteen years younger than I am."

"Numbers? You are putting love behind numbers? She can move out here and age is a matter of attitude. A person is as young as he is at heart, which puts you in her age group."

"I could not even expect her to move. Nor her me. We both have made it clear that we want our lives right where they are. I will concede that you are probably right about the age difference. We do see eye to eye. You also forgot that I am a married man."

"We both know about your marriage, and that’s all I’ll say on the subject."

"She is also engaged to somebody named Bill, who she has told me too much about, because, in spite of my efforts to be supportive of her future happiness, the animal inside me wants to tear his eyes out."

"You have every right to your macho reaction, so long as you refrain from felonious conduct. I also do not believe any woman would chose some ‘Bill’ over you."

"You are too kind. I just love her too much to stand in the way of something she wants."

"I’ll bet that you do not know what she wants right now, but I want to know: If you like younger women, how come you never hit on me?"

"You work for me. That makes you ineligible. To me, your are not a woman, you are an employee."

"Thanks a lot. Do I have to quit my job to get my gender back?"

"Don’t be insulted. As a man, I can see that you are an exceptionally beautiful woman. But, as your employer, I have to be very careful about my relationship with you. It goes beyond sexual harassment; I do not want to be accused of playing favorites. It has to be strictly business here. Running your own business is scary. If I screw up, you can find another job; I lose everything. You remember how hard it was to get here?"

"How could I forget how that last recession caught us overextended with the people calling for money all the time? Tell me, how close were we to losing it?"

"Beyond close, we were technically bankrupt. Only our good reputation and a few favors got us through. I never want to go there again. I used all my ‘Get out of Jail Free’ cards that time. Bug, you should be flattered. I take you out to lunch now and again and we pour our hearts out to each other. I don’t do that with any other employee, any business associate, or even most of my friends."

"Alright, if we can pour our hearts out to each other, and now that you have admitted that you find me…attractive, I want to ask you for something."

"I am getting very afraid, but shoot."

"My biological clock is ticking down and I wanted to be a mother by the time I turned thirty. I have a lot of admiration for you in many ways. In other words, I like your genes…."

"Hold it right there. If this is going where I think it is, I am getting sexually harassed. What you are asking is pushing the envelope of even friends. With that herd of men pursuing you, you should not have to worry about getting a sperm donor."

"Losers, all of them. I am a lot more picky about the father of my children than a casual lover. If you won’t volunteer, how about you do me a favor and fix me up with someone with some class?"

"I’ll get right on it, but you have to slow down, if that is possible for you, and let life catch up. Prince Charming can’t find you if you are a fast moving target. Now, lets get to work. You post the rents and I will go through the pile of mail you just dumped in front of me to see if I was awake."

"Yes sir, Mr. Fallen-in-Love."

The Bug left Paul to the mail. He sorted through what was mostly junk and bills, until he came upon a very fancy envelope from Brandon Clinics. If there was one person on the planet Paul hated, it was Emmet Brandon.

They had grown up less than a mile, but worlds, apart. Emmet Brandon’s family had money, and lots of it, from the plastics business. In his mind, encouraged by a very pretentious family, Emmet Brandon believed that wealth equated to superiority.

Emmet Brandon was flamboyant, outgoing, and had all the toys. From model railroads sprawling over several rooms, to cars, to cheerleaders, to businesses - Emmet Brandon always bought the best. Emmet Brandon also always made the cerebral and unassuming Paul Saunders the brunt of his amusement. Paul knew that Emmet Brandon did all of that out of jealousy of a self-made man, but it hurt nonetheless.

It was a bit more than a twist of fate that put Emmet Brandon in the same business as Paul. Emmet Brandon had not a single original thought in his life and blatantly copied any idea he thought good enough to make a buck off of.

Brandon Clinics looked the same, and numbered only two less than Doc in the Box, but the similarity ended there. Whereas Paul bought distressed retail property from the owners, Emmet Brandon bought non-performing mortgages from banks and foreclosed. Many owners approached Paul to make an offer after those foreclosures, but, once Emmet Brandon held the paper, there was no saving them.

Paul suspected the envelope contained yet another solicitation from Brandon. A solicitation to contribute generously to the latest Emmet Brandon fundraiser for a worthy cause. A fundraiser that Brandon would use as a grandstand and take the credit for the good deed, yet put as little of his own money into as possible.

Paul had been suckered before and knew he would be again. Brandon had a way of choosing good people who could not say no to good causes. Paul sighed and opened the envelope.

It was not at all what he expected. It was not an Emmet Brandon form letter, it was a hand written note from the brat himself, personally signed. Paul read it twice, hands shaking. He was furious.

"You son of a BITCH! You have gone way over the line this time!" Paul screamed to nobody as he crumpled the letter into the smallest ball he could and tossed it into the trash.

The Bug ran into the office, "Are you Okay? I have never heard you so upset."

"I have two words to explain it: Emmet Brandon."

"He never got to you like this before. Being in love must have exposed your sensitive side."

"What? ……. Sorry, I need a moment."

"Sure. Call me if you need anything."

"There is something. I want you to send a dozen roses to this person at this business today, and every Monday. The card should read only ‘You know.’ And use our business account. My name must not appear on the order."

The Bug smiled a knowing smile, walked out and closed the door. That thing she said about love changing him made a memory stir. Paul could clearly see the white-haired man saying it: ‘Do what your heart is telling you, screaming at you. Go to her.’

Paul made the call. After the receptionist and the secretary, he finally was speaking to the Great Emmet Brandon.

"Emmet, don’t talk, just listen. If you want a meeting with me, be at the Overlook Inn, room one, at nine tomorrow morning. I know you can’t come alone so here are my terms: one mouthpiece, one bean counter. I will be by myself. Five minutes late and I leave."

Paul hung up the phone before Brandon could utter a word. Paul picked up the phone and dialed again.

"Overlook Inn, how may I help?"

"Jack."

"Paul, how are you?"

"Great. You are slow during the week this time of year, yes?"

"A bit. What can I do for you?"

"I need room one tomorrow."

"Paul Sanders, do you have a hot babe, and does she have a friend for me?"

"I need a place for a business meeting where I will not be recognized, and nobody will be around your place on a weekday morning. Can you set the room up with a table for four at nine A.M.?"

"Sure. Can I ask what this is about?"

"I’m meeting Emmet Brandon."

"Holy SHIT!"

* * * *

Five weeks had passed since the initial meeting with Brandon. The Bug was at Paul’s house unpacking books and putting them on new bookshelves. It was a bright November day, and the harbor was in full view from the front windows.

Paul was deep in thought, not about the business at hand, but about Rachel. In all of their daily exchanges, she had not given any indication that she would like another meeting. At times, he thought that she was trying not to intrude on his life. Other times, he thought her disinterested. While she would gush about how much she enjoyed every moment of their time together, she never picked up on any of his many hints that there could be another meeting.

Rachel had not mentioned Billy since their meeting; Paul had not mentioned Cindy. Neither asked, neither told. They shared the most mundane aspects of their daily lives, but did not speak of their companions. He surmised that they were sparing each other unpleasant facts. He regretted the step back from open honesty.

It made no difference at this point. In his mind, Paul was resolved to settle this matter and move on.

"Do you think we can have sex tonight? Cindy can watch."

"Sure. …Huh?"

"Just testing. Where were you?"

"Going over my mental checklist for the next two days."

"For the hundredth time?"

"That was hours ago. It’s more like the thousandth."

"Lets quit. I’ll finish this for you tomorrow. You are not even putting the books in the order you told me you wanted. I have to re-sort every one you place. C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink."

"At my bar? Nice gesture."

The Bug walked over to the bar in Paul’s living room. "What’ll you have?"

"Just a glass of white wine…No, open that refrigerator and take out that bottle of Grand Dame."

"Isn’t that, like, the best champagne?"

"Just about."

"You don’t want to save it for a special occasion?"

"This is special. You have been a great help, a good friend, and a willing listener. It may turn out that I will not have a more special occasion to celebrate with it than this, tonight." He opened the bottle with a sigh, not a pop, and poured two glasses. The very tiny bubbles rising in them proclaimed the quality of the champagne. "To friends."

"And to your magnificent quest. Henceforth you will always be a romantic hero to me."

They both leaned forward to touch glasses, and continued until their lips touched for the first time. The kiss was soft, but lingering. When it finally broke, they both realized that he was thinking of someone else.

"She is one lucky girl," said June, recovering her breath,

"I am not so sure about that. We are about to have our final meeting."

June was obviously taken away by the kiss, and did nothing to reveal her feelings on what Paul had just said. She looked around the large living room, and the view of the lights around the harbor. "I can not believe I am going to be living here."

"For now, at least. We’ll sort that out when I get back, whenever that may be."

In the midst of the small talk, a serious look came upon her face. "For a moment there, I thought I might have a shot at, or rather a shot of, your genetic code. I would seriously like you to consider it. I am at the right point in my cycle right now."

Paul understood her offer but, because of his focus on the plan ahead, he recovered quickly. "I think your child should have a chance at a normal, well lets say traditional, family; I don’t think Cindy wants to watch; and if that is not enough, I had a vasectomy; I’m shooting blanks."

"We could do it high tech. You know, they can stick a needle in and get some of your seed for me. That solves your ‘fraternizing with the help’ problem as well."

"As much as I relish the thought of a needle in my nuts, I think you should consider other options. You start at Claim Jumper tomorrow. You will be working with a very special young man. Josh Roberts is a brilliant IT, but not at all a nerd. He even likes Opera, like you do. Remember when I promised to fix you up with someone with some class?"

"You didn’t!"

"He knows nothing, my dear, but he is the best surrogate I could come up with – yours to take or leave, but he did say he thinks you are very pretty."

"I know you mean well. I’ll give the boy a chance, but I am going to miss you. "And I can not believe Cindy’s going along with you?"

"If I am ever going to make any sense of all this, she has to be involved. She is too big of a part of my life."

"You are a brave soul. This is like a trip down the rabbit hole."

"I just hope I make it out of Wonderland before the Queen has my head cut off."

* * * *

Paul packed the car by the early light of the dawning day. He was amazed how little he actually needed to bring. When Cindy was comfortable, he closed the passenger door, and they left without looking back.

It was a bright morning, with the sun rising behind him, and he was actually looking forward to the thirty-hour drive to Shannon, Illinois. Each mile brought him closer to resolving the conflicting feelings that tore him apart inside.

Cindy was not so enthused. She did not speak to him the entire trip. By day, she watched the world pass by her window. By night, she slept. Even when Paul stopped at a rest area in Ohio to sleep for a couple of hours, Cindy was silent. Without a word, she let him know that she was very upset that he was putting her through this foolish scheme.

It was late afternoon, the following day, when he found their destination, The Starlite Motel in Shannon. Even after he saw the sign, he could not believe that people still use that name in the motel business. It really was Nowhereville, but he could not be happier to be there.

As he got out of the car, he stretched and looked around. It was small town indeed, with a single main street, surrounded by simple homes built on a grid only three blocks deep on each side. Outside of town were miles and miles of farms, their silos dotting gently rolling hills. Paul felt a strange sensation of being home in a place he had never been.

He and Cindy were the only guests in the motel that night. He did not need the reservation he had made the week before, but it was his nature to plan every detail.

There was only one thing he had left to chance in all of his plans. It was the only thing he had no control over – the one wild card. He had hoped to have a plan for that by the time he gotten this far, but he still had no idea how to deal with it.

After he checked in, he brought in only the luggage they would need for the night. He made Cindy as comfortable as possible in the little room. They both soon fell fast asleep, in spite of the ambitious plans for the next day.

It may have been the quiet, the darkness of the country, or the strange feeling of comfort the place gave him, but Paul overslept for the first time in decades. It was after nine when his eyes opened and saw the clock. He was surprised that he could have slept so soundly, and scared to be awake. The day of his final meeting with Rachel had arrived and he wondered if it was all a big mistake.

He jolted up and got himself ready. After a few reassuring words to Cindy he left, a man on a mission. In his mind, he thought himself a fool on a joust with a windmill.

He slowly drove by her office, looking in for any glimpse of her, almost hitting a car stopped in front of him. The other driver smiled and waived, which was quite a shock. In the Boston area, a single-finger-salute would have been in order. That strange feeling he had for the place grew stronger.

He found Country Florist with ease. Small towns, laid out on a rectangular grid, make such things easy. In the Boston area, the hunt would have been far more difficult. He smiled at how the place was growing on him.

The shop was even more charming then he expected and his smile widened. He saw the roses, in a vase, in the refrigerated case. He opened the case door and brought the flowers to the counter, where a woman about his age was looking over orders.

She looked up from her paperwork. "I am so sorry sir, those are for a special order. I can put another rose arrangement together for you in a jiffy."

Paul placed his business card on the counter. "This is my standing order, and, this week, I will be delivering it personally." He regretted the formality in his voice. It seemed so out of place.

She recognized the business on the card and her jaw dropped. It took a while for her to reply. "I’ll put them on your account, Mr. Saunders. It is very nice to meet you in person. Rachel talks about you and her trip to New York all the time."

Paul smiled at her "This is going to be a surprise for her. Please tell nobody about me being here for the next hour."

"Of course. This is so exciting. Rachel will be floored."

Paul signed the receipt and left the shop. As he secured the flowers to the passenger seat, the realization hit him. His now permanently affixed smile became a laugh of joy. The wild card he was so concerned about had just turned into an ace.

He drove the two blocks to Rachel’s real estate office. The short trip halfway across town was so much more relaxing than a trip across the busy town of Marblehead. He had to admit to himself that he really liked the place.

He parked the car and got out with the flowers. He drew a deep breath as he opened the door. He entered and saw HER. She had her back to him, her desk facing the wall. She quickly looked around to see who was coming in and smiled at seeing the flowers. She turned back to her computer screen and froze.

Rachel slowly turned back around, apparently afraid that looking too quickly would make the image change. She saw him, put her hand over her mouth, and gasped as she spun her chair around.

"Special Delivery," said Paul, failing to contain the tears.

"OhmyGod," she replied in kind, tears covering her cheeks. She could not rise. Her legs were numb.

Paul set the flowers on her desk, and took her sobbing body in his hands. He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth and she reached behind him and pulled him in, opening her mouth, her body, her soul to him. She seemed to want to swallow him whole before this impossible dream faded. She finally let go and slumped back in her chair.

"Now that was worth the trip."

"OhmyGod, you are really here."

"Yes, my dear, with good news and bad, but first, catch your breath. Then, we will spend the day together. We need to sort something out."

"Sort something out? I am in no condition to do anything after this surprise." She awkwardly composed herself into business mode "I have a client coming in, someone just moving here, looking for a house. I don’t even know how to contact him."

A man, not much older than Paul, came out of the hallway and interjected: "I’ll take care of the client." He walked to Paul and held out his hand. "Hello Paul, I’m Ron. Rachel has told us all so much about you. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Paul shook his hand and gave a broad smile. He was glad to meet him, and glad to confirm the ace he was going to play, very soon. "The pleasure is mine, but don’t wait for the prospect. I made that call. If I could ask, please bear with me and everything will be explained."

"Then we can get together later today?"

"I think dinner is in order, and it will be my honor to take us all out." Paul turned to the still astonished Rachel "Come, there is much to see and do."

She slowly rose, regaining the use of her legs, and took Paul’s hand. "Thanks, Dad." She said as they walked out the door. Her dad just waived and shook his head, smiling.

She recognized the car from New York "You drove all the way out here?"

"Yes. I am on a mission."

"You are also full of surprises. I am not sure what to think."

They held hands without speaking as he drove. He, because he was still trying to come up with the right words. She, because she was too dumbfounded to come up with any words at all. He pulled the car into the lot at the Starlite Motel. "Here we are. I stayed here last night."

"You were here? Why didn’t you call?"

"I had Cindy with me. She is inside. I want you to meet her."

Rachel was absolutely incredulous "Paul, this is too much. I do not want to meet Cindy. Is this some sort of sick joke?" A flash of anger crossed her face.

"No, I promise. Trust me. It gets better."

He said the magic words. Rachel got out of the car and walked, albeit reluctantly, with him to the motel room door. He took her hand, put the key in, and opened the door. She let him pull her into the room. He turned on the lights.

"Hello," Cindy said.

"Hello, Cindy," he answered.

"How ‘ya doing?" she asked.

"Rachel, this is Cindy."

"It’s a…."

"Cockatiel. They are native to Australia. They make great pets. She has been with me for twelve years."

"I…I don’t’ understand. You named a bird after your wife? I need to sit down."

He led her to a chair. "Rachel, the bird is not named after my wife. My wife’s name was Beverly. We divorced fifteen years ago. I am not married."

"WHAT?!" She exclaimed as she rose from the chair.

"Please, sit down and let me explain. You can do as you wish after, but hear me out."

She sat back down, obviously confused and not just a little bit angry.

"When I first wrote to you to complement your story, I told you I was married so you would not think I was just another fan with a boner for your characters. Later, after we became friends, I let you continue to believe it, so our relationship would not be a threat to you, your world, and your relationship with Bill. I only wanted your happiness."

"And now?" she said, still looking a bit confused but much less upset.

"Now I honestly believe that your happiness is with me. I came out here to court you, to win your hand, to fight Bill to the death in combat, if that is what it takes." The ace was played.

Her confusion and anger dissolved into laughter. She was not able to speak for a minute or two. "Paul, I broke up with Bill before New York. I never told you because I did not want to come between you and," she gestured towards the bird, "Cindy." She doubled over with laugher again.

Paul knelt in front of her and took her in his arms, laughing with her. "I have to admit: I knew about you and Bill splitting."

"How?"

"In a small town, the florist should not know about the lover of an engaged woman. Certainly her father shouldn’t. I came out here thinking I was taking the biggest gamble of my life, and I found it was a sure thing." They both held each other and laughed at the fools they had been.

"Was I responsible for you breaking up with Bill?"

"Only indirectly. With him, it was all expectation. He expected me to be with him. He expected me to make love to him. He expected me to marry him. He expected me to take care of his home and children, although he wanted nothing to do with my children. What really started to bother me was that, in the eighteen months we were together, he never told me that he loved me. He just expected me to understand.

"You wrote me sonnets and told me you loved me over and over. Most of all, you expected nothing more of me than for me to be myself. I did not leave Bill for you; I left him for me – the me you allowed me to get to know. She took a deep, cleansing breath. "Enough of things past. I want to know what your plan is, Mr. Saunders?"

"I came to be close to you. I really am the customer who is new to town and wants to buy a house here. I want to give us a chance."

"What about your business?"

"That was what I was really married to. No more. Sold it to Emmet Brandon."

"WHAT?! You hate him! You let him buy you out?’

"Yes. Once I let go of the ego thing, it became a very good idea. Think about it. It has been twenty-five years since the oldest of those properties was renovated. The tenants are asking for an update and some offices are vacant. Over the next ten years, Emmet is looking at two million dollars a year in refurbishing costs."

"You mean you took him?"

"No, he is still going to make money, just not the killing he thought. He is the one who let ego drive him. He thinks he beat me, but he has no idea what I still have. I kept Claim Jumper. He doesn’t even know I own it; couldn’t, all of his clinics use it. That company is going to be really big, and I can run it from here, with my laptop."

"You’re full of surprises. You really want to move here? You gave up your house by the ocean?"

"Not exactly. It is still mine, and it will make a great summer place for us. The Bug is house-sitting, with the agreement that she may not start nesting, because she will be evicted the moment I, no we, return."

"You are full of surprises. Can we take a break from them for a moment or two?"

"Okay. No more surprises for a minute or two."

Rachel shook her head and got up from the chair. She walked over to the little bird in the cage, looked back at Paul, then to the bird. "Cindy, I can not tell you how glad I am to meet you." She looked back at Paul "I never thought I would ever say that!" She stepped back over to Paul. "What ever made you do all this?"

"After I watched you leave at the airport, I met a man who said something that got me thinking about my life, and the possibility of a life with you."

"What is it about you and strangers in that airport?"

"Whoever thought that’s where Saints hang out? So, are you going to show your client some houses, or shall we make love?"

"I don’t think I can do it in front of Cindy." She said with a laugh. "There is one house I want to show you."

"Peek a Boo, I see you." Squawked the little bird.

Paul looked surprised. "She never talks to strangers."

Rachel laughed. "Maybe we girls are getting to know each other."

"I had better watch out."

They got in Paul’s car and he followed Rachel’s directions.

"Paul, this is a furnished house. I think you will like staying there, and you can make any changes you like."

They turned onto Monet Street and Paul recognized the house from an emailed picture. "This is your house!"

"Yes, I would not like even fifteen hundred feet between us any more than fifteen hundred miles. You came all this way, now I want you even closer. Just try it with me, with us. You can change anything you want in the house to make yourself at home."

"Really, just transform it to my personal taste?"

"As well as I have grown to know you, I am sure I would like anything you do."

They drove into her driveway, got out and entered by the back door.

"This is the kitchen."

"Was. I am putting in a new one. You pick everything else, I get to replace that old Hotpoint with a Viking six burner gas range. I like to cook. Oh, and I see a Hitchcock dining set there in the breakfast area by the bay window"

"Behind that drape is a regular window; it’s not a bay."

"Yet."

"You really are full of surprises, but I think I am going to like your changes."

They walked into the next room. "This was the living room… I mean is the living room."

"How about an entertainment center over there with surround sound, surrounded with new furniture?"

"The kids will love it, we will never get near it."

"Sure we will. They each get a system in their room, we soundproof the walls, add three phone lines, a satellite dish, get a landscaper to…. "I’m sorry, it is your home. I got carried away."

"I want you to be at home here too. So far, I have not heard anything I would object to, but it is a lot to think about."

"Yes, you do some of the thinking, no all of it. It is your home. Just chose the best and let me pay for it."

"What is my budget?"

"No budget. I know you well enough to know you will not throw money away. If anything you will be more practical than this city boy."

"I have one more room to show you."

He followed her upstairs and into a bedroom.

"This is my, no our, bedroom. If you are going to stay here, you have to satisfy the lady of the house." She started taking off her purple blazer, then white silk blouse. "For you, that should be very easy."

Paul took a step back, slightly surprised, mostly because, in his joy in surprising her, he had forgotten about making love to her. He began to unbutton his shirt. "You get mighty aggressive on your own turf. I like that."

"This is not aggressive, this is I can’t wait a minute longer. I have been dripping wet since you set the flowers on my desk."

Moments later they were each standing in front of a pile of their discarded clothes, eyes locked on each other’s, chests heaving with anticipation. They slowly stepped forward and embraced, Paul turning his hips so his hardness would not hold her apart from him. He leaned down and they kissed with all of the passion they had discovered in their one previous, glorious meeting.

Their mouths opened and tongues collided in a swirling dance they had learned together. Their arms tightened around each other and each body relaxed into the other in surrender.

"Lay down. I want to suck you."

He complied without a word. She could ask anything now. He had all the time in the world to return the pleasure as he wished.

She positioned him on his back and knelt between his legs. She knew that would place her tongue right on the sensitive underside of his hardness. She looked into his eyes as she gently stroked his shaft.

Without changing her hand motion, she leaned down and took him as deep into her mouth as she could. He moaned his appreciation.

"I will not last long. I have been thinking about making love with you for weeks."

She started sliding her lips and tongue over his shaft, bobbing her head as she jacked him with her one hand and gently caressed his balls with the other. As he warned, he very quickly stiffened and arched his back, sliding deep into her mouth. He let out a long moan as the waves of pleasure coursed down his body and gushed into her mouth.

When his body relaxed, she slid her mouth off of him and snuggled next to him. He put his arms around her and, holding her tight, kissed her hard and deep, tasting his orgasm in her mouth.

He kissed her cheek and neck, gently coaxing her on her back. He kissed around one nipple, then the other, finally taking one into his mouth, bringing a hum of appreciation from her mouth. He took the other nipple in his mouth. She put her hand on the back of his head in encouragement.

Slipping out from under her hand, he started kissing down her body, positioning himself between her legs. He kissed her inner thighs and outer lips. She was indeed wet, and yielding, and warm.

He ran his tongue up her slit, making her shiver with anticipation. Parting the lips with his tongue, he licked wide circles around her clit, not quite touching it. If her wriggling hips did not give away her need, her words did.

"Oh yes, please. I need it so bad."

He attacked her button with rapid flicks. Her hips started bucking and her moans came in short gasps in time with his tongue. He put a finger into her and started rubbing her G-spot. Her hips rolled her into his mouth.

"Oh Baby, NOW! Yeeeeeah!"

He stayed with her until she relaxed and he knew that she could not take any more direct contact for a while. He crawled up next to her, held her and gently rocked her in his arms.

"I really needed that. That was so good."

"I love to make you cum. Are you ready for the main event?"

"I’ve been ready since I left New York."

He rolled on top of her and she took her feet in her hands and held them over his back to allow him to penetrate her as deeply as possible. He gently guided himself into her and leaned down to kiss her. They were as close as two lovers could be.

Weeks of longing built them back up as he rocked on her. She broke the kiss and gasped as she felt him fully inside her. He raised himself up on his arms and started long, hard strokes as he panted in time. Their eyes met and they said it together. In contrast to the zealous motion of their bodies, the words were spoken softly.

"I love you."

The waves of pleasure came quickly after, for both of them. They both tried not to stiffen, to continue to melt together, but the jolt took over and they screamed their pleasure together as their bodies braced for the crashing waves.

After, he fell off of her and they held each other for a long time. The luxury of time together was now theirs. Concerned glances at the clock were a thing of the past.

At long last, he spoke: "I know I’m going to like it here."

"You have not seen any of your new world yet. Let’s go to lunch and drive around the lake. We will be back in the office in time to pick up the kids when they get out of school."

"I can’t wait to meet them."

"I told them a lot about you. They know I love you. I am sure they will be thrilled."

Rachel drove Paul’s car so he could see all of the sites she pointed out. She showed him where she grew up, where the friends she had told him about lived and worked, and some of the settings for her stories.

They had lunch at a cozy little spot, overlooking the lake. They talked about themselves as a couple for the first time, making plans together. They talked about a party for all of her family and friends. Paul offered to get Pearl Jam to play at it and she told him to just relax and enjoy. He realized his life out there would be simpler. He really liked that.

They went to a museum of local History, and he got a flavor of the place he would call home, a place he already loved. They parked and walked under crisp, clear November skies, and kissed by the lake.

Finally, with rosy cheeks, they returned to he office. Paul recognized Rachel’s children from the pictures she had sent him. Lawrence was strongly built for an eleven year old, which made him MVP in his Pee Wee Football team. Katrina was beautiful and delicate, like her mom - the consummate ten year-old Princess.

Rachel walked from Paul and over to the children, gathered around Grandpa’s desk. She took their hands in each of hers. "There is someone I want you to meet."

She brought them to within a few feet of Paul. "Lawrence, Katrina, this is…"

"Paul," he interjected, wanting to start on a familiar basis.

The children’s surprise was clear. They hung on their mother’s hands for a long time. Lawrence took the initiative. He dropped his mother’s hand, walked the two steps to Paul and offered Paul his hand.

"Very pleased to meet you, sir. My mom has told us so much about you."

Paul took the child’s hand. He was astonished at his good manners, and glanced into Rachel’s misty eyes. Katrina followed, a bit more awkward.

"Pleased to meet you, sir."

Paul let go of Lawrence’s hand and took Katrina’s. When he finally dropped her hand, he noticed that both children had stayed closer to him than their mother. He looked at their smiling faces and decided the long term bachelor would take a chance in foreign territory. He kneeled down to their level and stretched his arms out to them.

"C’mere you two."

They both beamed broader smiles and jumped into his arms. As he closed his arms around them they did the same to him. Katrina kissed his cheek, and melted his heart. The little girl released a thought he had been holding. He looked up at Rachel.

"So, will you marry me?

Everyone was overwhelmed. The children froze. Dad’s mouth dropped. Both of Rachel’s hands reached up and covered her mouth. Her eyes widened , and she took a half-step back to keep her balance. Nobody spoke or moved for quite a while. This time, Katrina took the lead.

"Do it, Mommy."

Lawrence joined his sister in nodding his head enthusiastically. Dad just rolled his eyes and sighed. Rachel dropped her arms and looked, very seriously at Paul.

"You are full of surprises. This is too much."

"I’m sorry. This is not fair. I have had five weeks to think this over. You could not have even considered the possibility until today. You do not have to marry me. Think about it and take all the time you want. You certainly do not have to answer me now."

Rachel smiled, got down on her knees, and wrapped her arms around the three of them, as far as they would reach. She kissed Katrina on the cheek, and Lawrence on the forehead. She slowly looked up into Paul’s eyes. A tear rolled down her face.

"But I will."