

Howard scanned a Royal Caribbean website in his office at the Alliance plant. He was looking for information on a cruise departing from Florida ports.
“The seven-day cruise of the eastern Caribbean is the perfect retirement gift for me,” he said, smiling at the beautiful pictures of the Caribbean.
His phone rang on his desk. “Alliance, this is Howard Bitner,” he answered the phone call.
“Howard, Sidney Harris here. How’s my boy doing with that report?” he asked.
Howard cringed. “Well, Sidney, we haven’t seen much of Brett. He arrives at his office and soon leaves the plant, stating he needs to get something from his hotel room. Then he shows up hours later,” Howard tattled.
Sidney was in his office behind his desk. “That’s interesting,” Sidney answered with a happy smirk. His eyes light up. “Listen, Howard; I want you to find out what he’s doing away from the plant.”
Back in Howard’s office. “Do you mean follow him like a detective?” Howard asked.
“Exactly, and you must keep all this a secret,” Sidney replied from Howard’s phone.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Howard replied. “I’m going to retire soon.”
“I’ll give you a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. Consider it a retirement bonus, and I’ll immediately mail you a check for five thousand. I’ll send the rest when I feel I have enough information,” Sidney offered from the phone.
Howard looked at the Royal Caribbean website. “It’s a deal, and I won’t tell a soul,” he replied with a greedy grin.
“For ten thousand dollars, you will keep your mouth shut. He’s staying at the Residence Inn off West State Road forty-six. Call me with an update tomorrow morning. My cell phone number is five five five, thirty-four sixty-one,” Sidney replied.
“Will do,” Howard said. He hung up. “You know, Sidney Harris’s not such a bad guy after all,” Howard said, with dollar signs in his eyes.
In his office, Sidney punched in Brett’s cell phone number. “The number you dialed is not available at this moment. Please leave a message,” said the cell phone recording.
Sidney waited. “Brett, Sidney here. Call me with an update on your report,” Sidney said, disconnected the call, and then kicked back in his chair with a smirk. Sidney picked up his desk phone. Agnes, could you please come to my office?” he said into the phone and hung up.
Agnes entered his office and walked up to his desk.
“I want you to write out a check to Howard Bitner of Alliance for five thousand dollars,” Sidney said.
“What for?” she asked curiously.
“Just say it’s part one of a retirement bonus,” he told her.
“You don’t give out retirement bonuses,” she replied. She paused, then her eyes widened. “Ah, you’re scheming a plan,” she said, rubbing her chin with a smile.
“Well, let’s say that the data provided from his bonus will help guarantee I can promote Carl without any resistance from Olive or Dorian,” he told her with a smile.
Agnes smiled, blew him a kiss, and left his office.
Sidney picked up some financial paperwork. A smile on his face grew into a chuckle. An evil chuckle.
Later that day, west on State Road 46, Brett and Corrie walked down the road where traffic was light. No ride offers.
She glanced at Brett, and he appeared preoccupied. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing. You’re not engaged, are you?” he blurted out.
“No. I’ve been too busy with my business to get involved. I haven’t found a man I want to settle down with. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was just curious,” he replied.
A Chevy pickup truck drove down the road and stopped by them. The pickup truck driver, an elderly farmer, rolled down the passenger window. “Do you folks need a ride into town?” he offered.
“That would be nice. We are getting a little tired,” Brett said.
“Where are you heading?” the farmer asked.
“Corrie’s Flying Service at the Columbus Municipal Airport,” Corrie replied.
“Hop in the back, and I’ll take you there,” the farmer responded warmly.
Corrie and Brett climbed into the bed of the Chevy pickup.
The farmer drove his Chevy pickup down the road.
Brett and Corrie sat side by side against the bed under the cab’s rear window.
“How come your wife won’t let you fly?” Corrie asked curiously.
“She believes that being a pilot isn’t a respectable profession,” he said.
“Not respectable? How can anybody think that being a pilot is not respectable?”
“You don’t know my wife,” he replied.
Corrie looked curious. “So I take it you don’t have a happy marriage?”
“She’s making my life miserable, if that’s an indication.”
“If she’s making you so miserable, why don’t you leave?”
“It’s not that easy,” Brett replied. “Do you have any kids?”
“We did. His name was Robbie, and a speeding driver killed him four years ago,” Brett replied, looking sad.
“I’m so sorry to hear about that.”
“That’s all right. I plan to leave her as soon as I get set up with a new job and a place to live.”
“Why did you marry her? If you don’t mind my asking,” asked Corrie.
“No, I don’t mind. Let’s say it started after I had six too many beers in college one night. Hence, Robbie, nine months later,” he said.
“I fully understand. At least you married her and didn’t leave her alone with a child to raise,” she replied.
“Yeah. I couldn’t let Robbie live alone with her,” he responded.
Back in Fort Wayne, Dorian sat in their kitchen sipping a cup of hot green tea. Her cell phone lay on the table, and she stared at it. She picked up her phone and punched in a number.
“That number is not available at this moment,” the voice on her cell phone said.
Dorian slammed her cell phone shut and fumed! She opened it up and punched in another phone number.
“Hi, baby,” Sidney answered her call.
“Daddy, have you heard from Brett?” she asked.
“No. He must be busy working on that report. I hope he’s working on his report and not goofing off on my dollar,” Sidney said sternly from her cell phone.
“Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll make sure he’ll perform a top-notch job,” Dorian said.
“I’ll still fire him if he doesn’t do an outstanding job,” Sidney replied and disconnected his end of the call.
Dorian punched in a cell phone number. “Brett, call me!” she left a message.
She slammed her cell phone shut, crossing her arms, fuming.
Later that day, the farmer drove to the parking lot at Corrie’s business.
The farmer stopped, and they got out of the pickup truck’s bed. They walked over to the driver’s door.
“Thank you for the ride, sir,” Brett said, offering his hand.
The farmer shook his hand through his open window. “My pleasure,” the farmer replied. “You youngins, have a nice day,” he said, giving them a little wave, then drove away.
Brett looked at Corrie. A moment of silence. Brett got nervous. “Hey, ah, I was thinking. Would you like to accompany me for dinner tonight?” Brett offered with a hopeful smile.
Corrie politely smiled.
Brett smiled back and thought this was a sign she accepted. “No, thank you. I need to get with my mechanic and get my airplane out of that field,” she said.
Brett’s heart sank. “Why don’t I take more flying lessons?” he offered.
Corrie looked at Brett, and she smiled. “Can you come by at nine in the morning?”
“Sure!” he replied with a gleam in his eyes.
“Great. I’ll see you then. Have a good evening.”
Corrie walked away and headed to her building. She stopped and turned around.
“We’ll get you a logbook in the morning, and I’ll log in today’s time and annotate that we had an emergency landing,” she said.
“That sounds great,” Brett replied, then walked to his car, disappointed.
Corrie walked to her building with a smile.
Brett drove his car back into Columbus and drove around town.
He drove past Zaharakos on Washington Street, found a parking spot, and parked his car.
Brett entered Zaharakos ice cream parlor. It’s busy. People ate their ice cream delights at their tables.
Brett entered the parlor and walked up to the counter.
“May I take your order, sir?” the female worker behind the counter said.
“I would like a banana split, please,” Brett replied.
“Matthew,” Meredith’s voice called out in a low whisper from behind him.
Brett turned around to find the source of the voice. No female was near him. He looked at the female worker behind the counter. “Did you say something?” he asked.
“No, sir,” the female worker smiled and walked away to the other side of the counter.
Brett waited while she worked on making his banana split on the other side of the counter.
She returned a few minutes later, handed him his order, and he paid her.
He walked over, sat at an empty table, and ate.
“I love you so much, Matthew,” Meredith’s voice sounded again in a low whisper from behind his back.
“Meredith?” Brett said, quickly turning around. Meredith was not in sight. Nothing but strangers around him. He shrugged it off.
“Charles can never bring me the happiness you could bring me; I love you,” Meredith’s voice sounded again in a low whisper from behind his back.
Brett turned his head around and noticed a young woman at a table beside him. She looked at Brett and smiled.
“Did you say you loved me?” Brett asked her.
The young woman’s eyes widened. “Ah, no. I didn’t say anything,” she responded.
A young man walked up behind Brett with an ice cream cone. “Whom were you talking to?” he asked her, glancing around the parlor.
“Nobody,” she responded to her boyfriend. She gave Brett a glance and a discreet smile.
The young man sat down at her table and kissed her quickly.
Brett’s face turned red. “What the hell’s wrong with me?” he whispered, rubbing his forehead.
“Oh yes. I can’t wait to leave with you. I can’t marry Charles,” Meredith’s voice sounded in a low whisper from behind his back.
Brett quickly turned around, searching for the source of her voice. “Meredith? Are you here?” Brett said out loud without thinking.
You could hear a pin drop in the parlor. Everybody stared at Brett.
Brett rubbed his head. “Am I losing it?” he said. Brett got up from his table with his half-eaten banana split.
He rushed over to the nearest trash can and threw away his dessert.
All eyes in the parlor are on Brett. He rushed out of the store.
Brett walked down Washington Street. He removed his cell phone from his belt, turned it on, and clipped it back to his belt.
Brett walked to his Fairmont and parked down the street. Just as his hand touched the door handle, his cell phone rang. He removed his phone from his belt, opened it, and looked at the viewfinder. He cringed, seeing the caller’s name. “Hello, Dorian,” he answered.
“Where the hell are you? And why didn’t you answer my calls from earlier today?” she scolded from his cell phone.
“Right now, I’m having lunch. I turned my cell phone off while working on my report so I wouldn’t be disturbed,” he fibbed into his cell phone.
“Speaking of which, how was work today?” she asked.
“It was a pretty great high. I’m having a ball,” he fibbed again.
“Pretty great high, so I take that to mean you’re enjoying it?” she replied.
“Yes, I am,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Good. It’s about time you had a change of heart about your job. Now, don’t forget to visit that housing development and take a picture of that house for me,” she nagged. “I’m counting on you.”
“I won’t forget, Dorian.”
“Good. Now get back to work,” she ordered.
“I will,” he replied, disconnected her call, and clipped his cell back to his belt.
A woman walked down the sidewalk near the Fairmont.
“Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to
Wedgefield Manor?” Brett asked the woman. She stopped by his Fairmont. “Wedgefield Manor?” she said. She tried to recall where it was located. “Oh yeah, head down Washington and turn right onto 3rd Street. Keep on that road until it becomes Jonesville Road. Head south on that road, and after you pass through an area called Garden City, you should see a sign for Wedgefield Manor off to your left,” she told him.
“Thank you,” Brett said.
“You’re welcome,” the woman said, then walked away.
Brett opened the car door and sat behind the wheel. He removed his cell phone from his belt and threw it on the seat. Brett then cranked up his Fairmont.
Brett drove down Washington Street and turned right onto 3rd Street.
Brett drove down that street until it turned into Jonesville Road and headed south.