Books

WEP CHALLENGE, APRIL 2019, The Alabaster Box by Pat Garcia

 

 

 

Jewel box

 

The Alabaster Box

by

Pat Garcia

999 Words

Eula sat on the sofa next to Francesco staring at the box in front of them that she’d placed on the coffee table. Francesco, whom Eula called Cesco, had pulled her close to him; her head lay on the left side of his chest, as she snuggled close to him.

“What do you think is in it, Cesco?” She murmured.

“I don’t know, Eula,” Cesco said. He caressed her arms with his fingertips. He didn’t like it when he came home and found her confused and devastated from situations suddenly thrust upon her. His job gave her enough reason to worry.  He needed her to be happy when he held her in his arms.  “What did the people at customs say when you picked it up? Did you have to open it and pay tax?”

“They said the weight was five pounds,” Eula said and sighed deeply. “Because it took twelve years to get here, I guess they winked an eye and just gave me the box.” She shivered. The only time she ever trembled was when she felt Cesco was in danger. Other than that, she never trembled. So, why was she shaking now?

Lying with her head against his chest, Eula’s mind went back to the conversation she’d had with her aunt two years before she died. Her aunt had told her, she’d sent her a box but had not told her what was in it. It was supposed to be a surprise, but the box never showed up. Eula thought her aunt had put the wrong address on the box, and it had just disappeared.  Now, her aunt had been dead for ten years. How could a box get lost for twelve years and then show up she asked herself? “One thing for sure, I won’t know if it's the surprise package that I should have received from my aunt twelve years ago until I open it,” she said.

She felt Cesco’s chest shake. He was always the one with humor. Cesco could find laughter in everything even though he faced death every time he left their home to carry out the job that he loved so dear.  “What’s so funny, Cesco?”

“The situation.  Your aunt has sprung another surprise on you. I never met her, but I’m quite sure she planned for the box to be delivered twelve years later.” His chest continued to shake as he said, “From what you’ve told me she was quite a character.”

“You’re too funny, Francesco Abramo.”

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Eula removed her head from his chest and sat up straight. She leaned toward the table before them and picked up the mysterious box.

Francesco handed her the scissors.  “Open it, Tresore mio,” he said. “That’s the only way we will solve this mystery.”

“I can’t believe that a box from my aunt takes twelve years to get to me,” Eula said, taking the scissors. “It’s unreal.”

“Eula, since I’ve known you, I can believe anything. So, open the box. If it is the package from your aunt there is a reason why she wanted to surprise you, and it’s in that box, and maybe it came at the right, appointed time like you say to me all the time. “

Eula cut along the sides of the box carton and lifted the lid upward. Twelve-year-old newspaper greeted her. Looking at the date of the publication in astonishment, memories of her childhood danced before her eyes. She could see herself as the little dark-skinned Eula with a broom in her hand, not quite five years of age trying to sweep her aunt’s porch.  She pulled back the paper wrapping and handed it to Cesco. “It’s news from my aunt’s country village.”

“Eula,” Cesco said, reading the headlines. “A lot was going on when you were little.”

“There was always a lot going on Cesco. My aunt kept the most of it hidden from me. I only got bit and pieces that a child my age couldn’t understand.” She smiled at the memory of her aunt’s thwarted attempts to stop her from asking too many questions; her smiled widened as she took an alabaster box out of the carton. As she turned the box slightly sideways, light sounds like balls rolled inside the box. Why in the world would her aunt send her an alabaster box? Nothing made sense.

“Tresore mio, open it. I’m getting impatient,” Francesco said.

“Cesco, I’ve never seen you impatient. You’re so patient with me.”

Francesco chuckled. “I’ve got to take care of my little old lady. After all, you’re older than I, and I want to have you around me forever.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Eula said and opened the Alabaster box. Five beautifully colored alabaster eggs laid loosely within. She shook her head totally perplexed. Why did her aunt send her five beautifully colored alabaster eggs? Picking one up Eula noticed that it had an incision all around the middle. Taking the egg in her hand, she lifted the top part of the egg. Eula’s eyes widened. She turned to Francesco. “This is amazing,” she mumbled. “Where did she get the money?”

“She probably saved it up all her life,” Francesco said, “See if the other eggs have slits.”

They did, and Eula lifted the top part of each egg. Each had a sparkling surprise.

Francesco let out a hearty laugh at the puzzled look on Eula’s face. “If customs had known what was in the box, they would have called an inspector to judge the value of those sparkling babies.  Your aunt was quite a character.”

“I always knew she was a clever fox, but I never thought something like this would ever cross her mind,” Eula said, chuckling.

“Tresore,” Francesco said. “She was one smart lady.”

“Yes, she was,” Eula said. “An idea to send me an alabaster box filled with alabaster eggs stuffed with emeralds could only come from aunt Hattie.  A clever fox she was.”

 

The End                                                                                                 

 

Thank you for reading The Alabaster Box and have a lovely Easter.

Shalom aleichem,

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Pat Garcia                  


WEP CHALLENGE, FEBRUARY 2019, A NEW BEGINNING By Pat Garcia

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WC: 992  

      Emma Lou Beasley whirled and twirled, springing around her kitchen like a three-year-old. Her feet danced to a beat only she could hear.

    Joy for approaching a birthday Emma Lou thought she’d never see made her twist and turn and shake her head with her braided afro that swung with every movement.  A milestone would be reached in twenty-eight days, and a childish glee of giggles spilled out of her mouth as she let out a gleeful shriek.

    Not every day that you turn sixty, yippee!

    Her busy and sometimes harried life, without ever having children to love and a male to care about her as his one and only were truths she’d finally accepted as a fact of life. After all, her entire family had prophesied that her marrying days were over when she’d turned fifty. They’d convinced her that she’d entered the age of Spinsterhood.

    Emma Lou researched the life span of Spinsters and found that spinsters didn’t have much longevity. Startled she set out to change that by reaching her next decade.

     In twenty-eight days, I’ll be sixty. Yippee!

    The twelfth beat of the gong on Emma Lou’s grandfather clock struck and stopped her from swinging her broad hips. She rushed to the hallway closet, grabbed her jacket, left the house and got into her Volkswagen Beetle and headed toward the city.

    Twenty-eight days!

     She planned to buy a small gift for herself every day up until the twenty-eighth day. Then she would splurge on herself and go out to that expensive, suave restaurant on Broad Street that she’d always wanted to go to but had been afraid to enter. She was going to walk in there with her head held high, her braids dancing around her shoulders, and treat herself to the most fabulous dinner that she’d ever dreamed of.

    Emma Lou arrived at the House of Daniello’s an exclusive store where she’d seen the Pastel, sky blue dress that she hoped would fit over her thick hips and ample bosom perfectly.

    Blue, the colour of hope was her encourager and favourite colour. With her blue dress, she would take on the next ten years’ challenge.

    A car pulled out of the parking spot opposite the House of Daniello’s, and Emma Lou chuckled.

    A good omen.

    She glanced in her rear-view mirror to see if any traffic was behind her. Astonishingly, no cars were coming from behind or coming in front of her.  Tapping the gas pedal lightly, she made a U-turn and wheeled her royal blue Beetle into the spot like Michael Schumacher. 

    He couldn’t have done it better!  

    Emma Lou laughed, her body shaking with laughter.

                                                ***

    Daniello stood by the third-floor window in his office overlooking the main street to the entrance to his shop as Emma Lou made her wild U-turn. He chuckled at how she’d taken possession of the empty park spot. When Emma Lou opened her car door, he noticed her legs first.  They reminded him of the thick, dark chocolate sticks that his brother produced in his chocolate factory.

    At the age of fifty, Daniello, with two marriages behind him and a narrow escape from a third woman, who had blinded him with her roguish charm, had given up being happy and wrapped his life around his fashion house.

    Where are those women who love from the heart?

    When Emma Lou crossed the street laughing and started walking to his store entrance, he flew down the steps, instead of taking the elevator, to the main floor.  Emma Lou captivated him.

    Signalling to his sister, Lucia, that he would take care of the dark, skinned woman who had just walked in, Daniello stood at the end of the aisle and observed how Emma Lou bounced to him as if she was a ball on water. Her eyes mirrored gaiety and innocence combined with a warmth that he yearned for. Her smile drilled holes into the armour around his heart.  

    “May I help you, Madam?”

    “Thank you, but I’d like a saleslady,” Emma Lou said, thinking the man couldn’t be working for the store wearing blue jeans, even though he was sporting a Ralph Lauren’s Polo Shirt.

    “At your service,” Daniello said, holding back his laughter at the shock in her eyes. She didn’t know who he was. Most women would have been falling all over him in ways he didn’t appreciate.

    “Oh…Do you work here?” Emma Lou said, flustered.  “What I mean is that I’ve never been waited on by a man in a women’s dress shop,” she said as she gazed into his shiny onyx coloured eyes.

    “Well, there’s always a first time, Ms…” Daniello said, checking out her hands. No ring.

    “Beasley.”

    “So, Ms. Beasley, what can I do for you?”

    “Well…” Emma Lou stuttered, “actually I was thinking about buying the blue dress in the store window, but I think I’ll come back later.”

    “You would look awesome in that dress,” Daneillo said. “Any particular occasion?”

    “In a way,” Emma Lou said, “I always celebrate February because that’s my birthday month. You think that colour suits me?”

    “The dress and the colour suit you perfectly.”

    “Well, thank you,” Emma Lou said, happy that her dark skin colour didn’t show how much she was blushing before this nice young salesman.

    “Ms. Beasley, may I address you by your first name?”

    “Why, of course. It’s Emma Lou.”

    “So, Emma Lou, when’s your birthday?”

    “February 28th, and I’m going to treat myself to something good every day this month.”

    “I’m doing something similar this month too,” Daniello said.

    “Oh?” Emma Lou asked surprised. “Is it your birthday month too?”

    “No, not my birthday,” Daniello said and chuckled, “but February has just become a significant month. Do you mind us celebrating it together?”

    “I don’t know you, Mr…” Emma Lou said softly.

    “In twenty-eight days, you will, my dear Emma Lou,” Daniello said, smiling at the woman whose gaiety had captured his heart.

                                                                                        ****

The End

 

Hello Everyone, 

I may be a little slow getting around to everyone's submission in this first WEP Challenge, but I will get to them. 

Thanks in advance for your patience and understanding. 

 

Shalom aleichem,

Photo on 01.12.18 at 14.01 #2

Pat Garcia


The Box in the Loft by Pat Garcia

February BadgeWC: 827

 

 

The loft wasn't supposed to be a storage room for Giovanni’s things. It just evolved into one. Each anniversary, she would pack away his summer things, and they celebrated one more year of them, together, one loving one, them, loving them. He would laugh at her.

“All things are temporal, Kathleen Katy-bear,” he’d say, combining her birth name with the pet name he’d given her. “What we have is priceless. The things you’re stowing away can never compensate for the memories in our hearts.”

Then, he would take her into his arms. “Come sleep with me,” he’d say, taking her mind off the task she was doing. He would stress the present moments as he pounded into her body.   Her screams of delight and his groans of pleasure, as he released his semen, had him falling on top of her after their climax, whispering words between breaths, as he pecked her ears, her neck, and her cheeks, planting tiny kisses in the aftermath. “This is significant, Katy-bear,” he’d say. “Nothing is more important than this. My lips on your lips. The warmth of our mouths as we explore each other, me pressing you close to my body letting you feel the heat you’ve generated in me. Only that counts, Katy-bear."

 Kathleen sat holding his jacket in her arms. Three years had passed, but his aroma was still present like yesterday.

Tears covered her face as she unpacked. She was on the last box before the Salvation Army came to pick up his clothing. She gave them a call after he appeared to her in a dream. He’d admonished her for dishonouring their love by not remembering the sweet golden moments.

The smiles when they were both thinking about the same things, the hugs when she accidentally asked a question that pointed out an error in the planning of his next mission, or the late-night walks where she gathered stones and put them in her pockets, and he would remind her those stones were like him. Each time that he returned she collected the broken pieces of his soul and put them back together again.  In the evenings, he would take her in his arms and hug her tightly, and say, "Let's go upstairs, I need you."  And upstairs, they went and made passionate love with the full realisation each time could be their very last.

 

 It happened. They both knew the time had come. Yet, Giovanni’s death came too soon. He was too young.

 What do I do now? Even though I was older, you understood me. What do I do now, Giovanni?

 "I hate you, Giovanni!”  Kathleen cried out. “You and your honour for your country. Why did you have to go on that particular mission? Why couldn’t you let someone else volunteer? No one misses you as much as I do," she screamed.  

Her tears flowed heavily; mucus ran out her nose, and her hands trembled as she pulled the things out of the last box and threw them on the mountain before her.

She picked up the jacket she mistakenly threw back into the box.

  I'll keep this jacket. It smells of you.

She put her left arm into the left sleeve. Something solid in the left pocket of the jacket touched her hip bone. Reaching into the pocket, she pulled out a flat, jagged key.

  NaNu, what do you open? 

With the key in her hand, her gaze went to the box, and that’s when she saw the dark mahogany chest. She lifted the chest out of the box sat down on the floor; her back to the mountain of clothing.

Where did you come from? Why would Giovanni buy a chest?

 Her hands trembled; the key shook as she put it into the lock.

 She hoped the key wouldn’t fit. All her beautiful bubbles of their seven-year relationship could suddenly burst into thin air.

 

 Laughter filled the loft.

 Giovanni, are you here?

“Don't be afraid Katy-bear. Turn the key!”

Her heart beats became irregular; her chest ached.

People will think I’m insane if I tell them I heard Giovanni’s voice.

Her eyes grew large when she raised the chest top. Within were seven mid-size diaries, and she took out the first one.

 Leaning against her mountain, she opened the journal and began to read the first page. She burst out in laughter. “You sneak!” She yelled out joyfully for the first time in three years. Her tears forgotten, she began to read aloud.

“Words for you, Katy-bear. Invisible conversations I’ve had with you on each mission. Each diary records my present moments when you weren’t there. I love you, Katy-bear. Always have, always will. Love is eternal.”

 The anguished and inner turmoil she’d suffered, eased. The pain in her chest disappeared.

Yes, love is eternal.

Sitting by the box in her loft, her back against the mountain of Giovanni’s clothes, Kathleen read as she slipped over into eternity to be with her Giovanni.

                    ---

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia August 13 2016

Pat Garcia


The Woman and Her Dream by Pat Garcia

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The ocean waves rippled under the woman's belly.  They tickled her stomach, gently.  The red rays in the heaven signalled the ending of the day. Though she couldn't tell where the day began or where it ended. Unending was time. The reddish orange tint spread itself out upon the ocean. The width and breadth of its streams amazed her. 

She lay on the atop of the ocean and observed the cold blooded mammals in the deep. Water drops touched her hair and ran down both of her temples. She gazed out into the vastness. Coming her way was a giant six-legged cirrata. Its arms splattering water as it moved toward her. 

 

The strange singsong squawking of the eagle above her lulled her mind. Had she finally made it? She opened her eyes and turned over to watch the giant bird’s approach.  The roar of the waves became stronger. A blue-black fin sticking up out of the ocean was gliding in her direction. A smile crossed her face; she should have known this was the way it would be. Embedded in nature, surrounded by water, the inner peace she sought overtook her, and she sighed and stretched her legs.

 

“I love this place. This is heavenly.”

 “Indeed it is, Woman.”

 “Prophet?”

 “Yes?”

 “Is this real?”

 “Is what real?”

 “The peace.”

 The singsong squawking sound of the Eagle intrigued her. She laughed.

 “He’s singing a song for you.”

 “Yes, I know. That’s why I’m laughing, but you haven’t answered my question, Prophet.”

 “What question?”

 “Is this peace real or is it an illusion?”

 “Do you like the eagle’s song, Woman?”

 “Of course, I do. I already told you that.”

 “You told me you were laughing at the sound.”

 “Well, I like the Eagle’s song. He sounds like a chorus of frogs.” She imitated his sounds and then  burst into giggles.

 “Arms crawled around her neck and slid down her shoulders.  “Octopus, what took you so long to get here? Did you dive down to the ocean floor?

 The Eagle arrived and circled around her.  The whale sprouted water and doused her.

 “I’m a mess. I think I need to stay here.”

 “Why’s that, Woman?”

 “The peace.”

 “Oh.”

 “Oh what, Prophet?”

 “Peace is a priceless commodity where you come from?”

 “Prophet! A lion and a bear are dancing on the water! Are they friends?”

 “Everybody is a friend.”

 “Not where I come from.”

 “Oh.”

 “This peace is transformative.”

 “The quietness?”

 “Yes, Prophet. The stillness. It’s peaceful.”

 “No stillness down there, huh?”

 “Too much talk.”

 “Why talk, Woman?

 “People are afraid of stillness.”

 “Why?”

 “Fear, Prophet.”

 “What about you, Woman?”

 She turned to answer him.  A flash of light shone. Something buzzed loudly breaking the silence. She covered her ears with her hands, the sound getting louder as it came closer. 

“Stop it,” she screamed.

 The explosion burst down her door. The blast knocked out the window panes.   Her body thrown against the wall, she landed a few feet away from her bed. 

 No, no, no!

 The floor was shattered with glass. Her hands bled.  In her confusion, she tried to think as she counted her fingers.

Ten. Good.

 Slowly, she crawled to where her door once was and headed to the shelter beneath her apartment. 

 It was only a dream.

The war is not over.

There is no peace.

 

 ---

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia August 13 2016

Pat Garcia

 

 

 


WIPpet Wednesday, November 16, 2016

WIPpet Wednesday
It is WIPpet Wednesday. Many thanks to Emily Witt, who initiated this wonderful WIPpet gathering.  

What am I reading?

Still reading PEAK: Secrets From The New Science Of Expertise by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, How To Become A Writer by Barbara Baig, and I Was Right On Time, My Journey from the Negro Leagues to the Majors, Buck O’Neil with Steve Wulf and David Conrad, and Aftermath by George Weinstein, which I bumped up to the top of the list, My GRL by John Howell, and The 12 Key Pillars of Novel Construction: Your Blueprint for Building a Strong Story by C.S. Lakin.

  • What do I plan to read next?

The Violin Man’s Legacy by Seumas Gallacher and Flash 40 Life’s Moments by Janelle Jalbert, The Last Coach by Allen Barra, and My Personal Best by John Wooden with Steve Jamison, Our Justice by John Howell, and Miami Morning by Mary Clark.

My Snippet is composed of 11 sentences out of chapter 14. Daniel has returned to his office. He confronts Phoebe asking her if she has taken a lunch break.

                                                ***

“Did you take a break?”

“No, I didn’t come in until noon, so I don’t need a break.”

“Yes, you do. Take one now.”

“I don’t want to take a break; I would like to finish what I’m doing.”

“Phoebe, we’re not going to discuss this. As your boss, I’m ordering you to take a break.”

“Okay, Boss. I’ll go sit in the coffee lounge and have a coffee, if that will satisfy your command.”

“No, it won’t. Take three hours off. Go home. See about the kids and give me a call around seven to see if I need you to come back into the office.”

That’s all folks.

Until next Wednesday, be safe.

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia August 13 2016

Pat Garcia


WIPpet Wednesday, November 9, 2016

WIPpet Wednesday
It is WIPpet Wednesday. Many thanks to Emily Witt, who initiated this wonderful WIPpet gathering.  

  • What have I read?

I read, once again, Nora Roberts Born In Ice, Born In Shame, and Born In Fire.

What am I reading?

Still reading PEAK: Secrets From The New Science Of Expertise by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, How To Become A Writer by Barbara Baig, and I Was Right On Time, My Journey from the Negro Leagues to the Majors, Buck O’Neil with Steve Wulf and David Conrad, and Aftermath by George Weinstein, which I bumped up to the top of the list, My GRL by John Howell, and The 12 Key Pillars of Novel Construction: Your Blueprint for Building a Strong Story by C.S. Lakin.

  • What do I plan to read next?

The Violin Man’s Legacy by Seumas Gallacher and Flash 40 Life’s Moments by Janelle Jalbert, The Last Coach by Allen Barra, and My Personal Best by John Wooden with Steve Jamison, Our Justice by John Howell, and Miami Morning by Mary Clark.

My Snippet is composed of 7 paragraphs out of chapter 13. Daniel and Clay are having lunch in Clay’s office. Daniel requested to see him. Clay begins the conversation.

                                                ***

                                                           

“You sounded like the issue you need to talk about was crucial, Daniel.  A matter of life and death. So, what’s problem?

“The problem is a medium-sized Afro with big hips, large, long, legs and breasts that make me want to lay my head between them and sleep. Not to mention a heart filled with compassion that’s driving me crazy.”

“Phoebe, huh?”

 “How did you know?”

“You only had to look at your face at the Chamber of Commerce benefit. No one else recognized it but I saw it, and Roberta did too. In fact, she was quite concerned about whether or not you would attack Phoebe with your emotional instability.”

Daniel laughed. “Man, instability is a good choice of words. That night I got to meet unexpectantly one of my sons, Quad 3. He was waiting up for Phoebe. Wanted to sleep in her bed.”

“How did you feel about meeting him like that?”

*** 

 

That’s all, folks.

Have a nice rest of the week, and be safe.

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia August 13 2016

Pat Garcia


WIPpet Wednesday, November 2, 2016

WIPpet Wednesday
It is WIPpet Wednesday. Many thanks to Emily Witt, who initiated this wonderful WIPpet gathering.  

  • What have I read?

I haven’t completed any of the books I am reading.

What am I reading?

Still reading PEAK: Secrets From The New Science Of Expertise by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, How To Become A Writer by Barbara Baig, and I Was Right On Time, My Journey from the Negro Leagues to the Majors, Buck O’Neil with Steve Wulf and David Conrad, and Aftermath by George Weinstein, which I bumped up to the top of the list, My GRL by John Howell, and The 12 Key Pillars of Novel Construction: Your Blueprint for Building a Strong Story by C.S. Lakin.

  • What do I plan to read next?

The Violin Man’s Legacy by Seumas Gallacher and Flash 40 Life’s Moments by Janelle Jalbert, The Last Coach by Allen Barra, and My Personal Best by John Wooden with Steve Jamison, Our Justice by John Howell, and Miami Morning by Mary Clark.

My Snippet is composed of 2 paragraphs out of chapter 13.

                                                ***

Daniel walked into the beautiful L-Shaped two story building of Clay Forrester admiring the simplicity yet warmth that radiated throughout its hallways. A smile broke out on Daniel’s face; the building displayed the personality of its architect–– Clay Forrester.   The husband to Roberta Forrester, Clay was the only one of the three male friends Daniel had, that did not work directly for him.

Clay was expecting him. At Daniel’s early morning arrival at his office, he had given Clay a phone call. Greeted by Clay’s personal assistant, she indicated that Clay was waiting on him and nodded toward the door.

                                                            ***

That’s all, folks.

Until next week, be safe.

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia August 13 2016

Pat Garcia


WIPpet Wednesday, October 26, 2016

WIPpet Wednesday
It is WIPpet Wednesday. Many thanks to Emily Witt, who initiated this wonderful WIPpet gathering.  

  So, what have I done this week:

  • What have I read?

I haven’t completed any of the books I am reading. I had an essay to finished for an anthology and found out today that the editor would like to include it in the anthology. It is non-fiction and my first inclusion in an anthology and I am delighted.

What am I reading?

Still reading PEAK: Secrets From The New Science Of Expertise by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, How To Become A Writer by Barbara Baig, and I Was Right On Time, My Journey from the Negro Leagues to the Majors, Buck O’Neil with Steve Wulf and David Conrad, and Aftermath by George Weinstein, which I bumped up to the top of the list, My GRL by John Howell, and The 12 Key Pillars of Novel Construction: Your Blueprint for Building a Strong Story by C.S. Lakin.

  • What do I plan to read next?

The Violin Man’s Legacy by Seumas Gallacher and Flash 40 Life’s Moments by Janelle Jalbert, The Last Coach by Allen Barra, and My Personal Best by John Wooden with Steve Jamison, Our Justice by John Howell, and Miami Morning by Mary Clark.

My Snippet is composed of 16 paragraphs continuing with chapter 12. Next week, I am jumping to a snippet out of chapter 13.

Background and summary: This is a continuation of what happens in chapter 12. Kirk, Peter, and Daniel come out of Daniel’s office. Phoebe has arrived and is sitting in her office. Maria is not in the office.

                                    ***

“Afternoon, Phoebe,” Kirk said. “Everything’s okay?”

“Afternoon, you three,” Phoebe said and then said to Kirk, “Everything’s fine.”

“Good, then we’ll see you on Saturday,” Peter said, taking Kirk’s arm and rushing him out the door.

“How are you really?” Daniel asked leaning against her door observing her.

“I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m going out to lunch now. Can you give me the keys to the car?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I should have given them to you when I walked into the office, but I didn’t want to disturb your meeting.”

“No problem, but you can disturb my meetings. If I don’t want to be disturb, I have a sign that says do not disturb. But you and Maria are the only two who have permission to not obey the sign.”

“Well, I just learned something new. Thanks.”

“Can you authorize the allocations for the mergers alone or do you need me to be here?” Daniel asked.

“No, I can do it. You don’t need to stay.”

“Okay then, I’m leaving and probably won’t be back until three of four.”

“I’ll tell Maria when she gets back.”

“Phoebe?” Daniel murmured, and he walked to her desk and lifted up her chin and forced her to look at him. “I really enjoyed yesterday evening. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“See you when I get back,” Daniel said and departed her office. Two minutes later, he waved to her as he departed the suite.

“Bye,” Phoebe whispered to the wind.

 

That's all, folks.

Until next week, be safe.

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia August 13 2016

Pat Garcia


WIPpet Wednesday, October 19, 2016

WIPpet Wednesday
It is WIPpet Wednesday. Many thanks to Emily Witt, who initiated this wonderful WIPpet gathering.  I am still working out of boxes, but the boxes are fewer than before.

  So, here goes for today:

  • What have I read?

I read Bound by the Summer Prince by Mistral Dawn, The review will appear on my book review blogs soon.

What am I reading?

Still reading PEAK: Secrets From The New Science Of Expertise by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, How To Become A Writer by Barbara Baig, and I Was Right On Time, My Journey from the Negro Leagues to the Majors, Buck O’Neil with Steve Wulf and David Conrad, and Aftermath by George Weinstein, which I bumped up to the top of the list.

  • What do I plan to read next?

My GRL by John Howell, The Violin Man’s Legacy by Seumas Gallacher and Flash 40 Life’s Moments by Janelle Jalbert, The Last Coach by Allen Barra, and My Personal Best by John Wooden with Steve Jamison, Our Justice by John Howell.

My Snippet is composed of 10 paragraphs continuing with chapter 12. I may present the entire chapter, but I am not sure,.

Background and summary: This is Kirk’s reaction to Daniel stealing Phoebe.

                                    ***

"You, scoundrel, you,” Kirk said. “Now you’re stealing my best employee.”

Daniel and Peter both laughed.

“Kirk,” Daniel said, “ you can’t have it both ways. Phoebe stays, but you won’t have her anymore; she works in this office.”

“So, why was Angie here?” Peter asked.

“To protect Phoebe and find out my intentions.”

“And what are your intentions?” Kirk asked.

“I told Angie the same thing I’m telling you guys. I’m not going to hurt Phoebe. By the way, please keep Angie’s visit a secret. Phoebe doesn’t need to know it.”

“Why?” Peter asked.

“Because Phoebe is suspicious and very sensitive, at the moment. If she knew Angie was late to school to come and to talk to me, she’d think Angie betrayed her.”

That’s all, folks.

Until next week, be safe.

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia Oct 14 2016

Pat Garcia


WIPpet Wednesday, October 12, 2016

WIPpet Wednesday
It is WIPpet Wednesday. Many thanks to Emily Witt, who initiated this wonderful WIPpet gathering.  I am still working out of boxes, but the boxes are fewer than before.

  So, here goes for today:

  • What have I read?

I read Border Bride, A Regency Novella by Shannon Donnelly. The review will appear on my book review blogs within three weeks.

What am I reading?

Still reading PEAK: Secrets From The New Science Of Expertise by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, How To Become A Writer by Barbara Baig, and I Was Right On Time, My Journey from the Negro Leagues to the Majors, Buck O’Neil with Steve Wulf and David Conrad, and Bound By The Summer Prince by Mistral Dawn.

  • What do I plan to read next?

My GRL by John Howell, The Violin Man’s Legacy by Seumas Gallacher and Flash 40 Life’s Moments by Janelle Jalbert, The Last Coach by Allen Barra, and My Personal Best by John Wooden with Steve Jamison, Our Justice by John Howell.

My Snippet is composed of 10 paragraphs. This is the beginning of Chapter 12. I may present the entire chapter. I am not sure yet.

Background and summary: Kirk and Peter are having a meeting in Daniel’s office after Angie leaves. Scene 1 is ending, and scene 2 begins.

                                    ***

Quickly, Angie whisked past Peter and Kirk, mumbled a goodbye to Maria and fled out of the door while Daniel observed the two men before him.

“Come into my office. We need to talk,” Daniel said harnessing his temper.

I didn’t realize it was going to take persuasion to get the both of you and especially Kirk to see that all of my intentions toward Phoebe are honorable.

***

They sat around the round table in Daniel’s office. Daniel watched as Kirk sat down and crossed his arms over his chest.

This is not going to be easy. Kirk is worst than a mother hen when it comes to Phoebe.

“Would you two take my word, if I told you, I don’t plan on hurting Phoebe?”

“Why should we believe you? Her resignation is sitting somewhere on your desk. Your treatment forced her to resign.”

“Phoebe’s not resigning. She’s my Project Leader, Kirk.”

“Until the project is completed, and then what?”

“It’s her decision, but the job is hers permanently.”

“You mean this is not a temporary spot,” Peter asked.

“No, it’s not. I admit Phoebe thinks she’s working out her termination notice, and I’ve decided not to correct that impression because she’d walk out immediately, but the job is permanent. So, Kirk will have to find a replacement.”

                                                ***

That’s all folks.

Until next week, be safe.

Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia August 13 2016

Pat Garcia