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Sometimes people are given a second chance at living one moment over. |
| Chapter 21 He walked into the coffee shop and was greeted immediately warm smile. “You can sit anywhere,” the mature waitress told him. “As you can see, we’re past the morning rush.” Phillips looked around and saw only three customers. “Thank you,” he said to the mature server. He walked to a booth and saw a menu already on the table. When he entered, he was still feeling the effects of last night’s drinking, but as he sat, hunger did enter his body. “Hello, my name’s Penny. Can I get you some coffee?” another waitress asked, her order pad and pen ready. This one was much younger, barely out of high school he thought. Her smile was honest. Her eyes were bright, not yet jaded by years of working a menial and thankless job. “Please,” Phillips said. “I’ll get that and give you a few minutes to look over the menu.” “That would be perfect.” He smiled as he watched the young woman walk away, but frowned when the next customer entered. It was Timmons. The former cop saw him and acknowledged that he was joining. “It’s good to see you alive,” the former cop said. He sat across the table and smiled when Penny arrived with a cup of coffee for Phillips. She placed the hot drink in front of the private investigator and smiled in recognition at Timmons. “Good morning Mr. Timmons. Would you like your usual or just coffee?” “I’ll take the usual.” The young server wrote down an order on her pad and turned to the other man. “Are you ready or should I give you a few more minutes?” Phillips shook his head. “It all looks good. What do you recommend?” She smiled. “What Mr. Timmons orders for his breakfast is good. It’s two eggs, over easy, 3 pieces of toast, two strips of bacon, a sausage patty, and a slice of warm apple pie.” The investigator smiled and laughed. “You have apple pie for breakfast?” “Don’t knock it until you try it.” “I’ll have what he has then.” “Thank you. I’ll get that out to you as soon as possible. Mr. Timmons, I’ll get your coffee and juice right away.” Phillips waited a moment until they were alone before speaking. “Thank you for not killing me yesterday.” “You’re welcome, but I had nothing to do with that decision. My bosses wanted you alive, to do the research for them. Hannah and Bowles were to bring you up to an old cabin Van Rossum knows about, somewhere near Lake Luzerne, and dispose of you in any manner they wished.” He had more to say but Penny returned with his liquids. “What do you mean, dispose?” “They were given carte blanche. They could torture for hours or days. They could execute you quickly. It didn’t matter to Van Rossum. He is upset at you for withholding the family report.” “I know he is, but I didn’t think he was that much. It’s just a report.” “To him, it’s important. My bosses have no idea why. Personally, I think if he wanted to really know where the painting is, he would have had you look for it, or for possible locations.” “I agree. There’s something more to this than what he’s showing.” “I know. I’d hate to play poker against him. I can’t read him at all.” “You’re lucky he doesn’t know about you.” Phillips had more to say, but Penny arrived with their meals. She asked if they wanted, needed, anything else. Both men looked at the plates and shook their heads. “Try the sausage,” Timmons said. “They grind the meat and season it every morning. It’s super fresh and great.” They sat in the car and looked at each other before laughing. “I can’t believe you told them,” he said. “I can’t believe they’re happy,” she added. Antoinette leaned over and pulled Micah into her arms. She squeezed him as hard as she could from her bucket seat. “Did you see your father’s eyes? I thought for a moment he was going to cry.” “I knew my mother would, but not dad.” She held his hand and looked into his eyes. Yesterday, she thought she saw two pairs of eyes, but now, all she saw was his love for her. “I love you, Chance.” “I love you, Toni,” he replied quickly. He leaned in and kissed her gently. “But I think we should get going,” she quipped. “I know we’re early, but some of the girls at work want to know how last night went.” He started the car and pulled away from the curb. They approached an intersection; she reached over and grabbed his right hand. She gently squeezed it, reassuring herself as well as him that theirs was a true love. The drive to her work wasn’t long, ten-minute drive into the next town, but to them, it was too short. Antoinette spent the entire looking at him, wanting to hold his hand, but with a stick, that was impossible. At every stop sign and light, he turned and looked at her, sometimes reaching for another kiss. “You have to pull in behind,” she directed him when they arrived at the supermarket. “The employee entrance is back there. They don’t want us going through the market.” “That sounds kind of stupid,” he commented. He found several empty spots away from employee cars and pulled into one. He parked and turned off the engine. He looked at her and smiled. “It’s true, but some of the butchers are gross after work. Do you want to see someone covered in blood as you shop?” “I guess you’re right,” he said. He took her hands in his and pulled her closer. He gave her a quick kiss before hugging. She leaned back and looked at him. “I get out at 6. Will you be picking me up?” “I’ll be here, come hell or high water.” She joked, “What are you going to do today, other than miss me?” He laughed. “I certainly will do that.” He looked at her and asked himself, “Should I tell her about the dream I wrote or not?” “You could write me a story,” she quickly mentioned. “I should do that,” he answered. The smile on her face slowly disappeared. “I need to go, dear.” She went to open the door. Micah opened his and ran behind the car. He reached her side, took her hand and helped her out. She fell into his chest and laughed. “You’re such a gentleman.” “I know, ain’t I?” He put a hand on her chin and lifted her face. He kissed her lips. “I’ll be back at 6 to pick you up.” Antoinette smiled and turned. She walked a few yards before stopping and speaking, “And with something for me to read.” He watched as she approached the employees’ door. She stopped and waited for a couple of women to join her. “Don’t miss me too much,” he called to her. He expected her to be upset, for her to blush and angrily answer him. “I’ll try not to,” was her answer. He waited outside his car until she disappeared into the market. Micah slipped into the driver’s seat and head home, headed to type up the story he wrote about the dream. He thought he might write a shorter story for Antoinette, one that she might like. “You do that,” the Presence said. Micah felt the Presence’s tone was forceful, honest, and something he should heed. But what genre should I write in? “You know whatever you write, she’ll love and appreciate. Just type up the dream and write something for her.” Micah knew the Presence was correct, knew that whatever he wrote, in whatever genre he chose, Antoinette would love. He smiled and decided on what to do for her. The man watched as the red Monza Spyder drove away, the anger he felt for the driver grew with each passing moment. Clayton Osborne was an older man, 30-years-old. From the first time he saw Antoinette as a 15-year-old cashier, he’s had a crush on the younger woman. He knew that they could not have a relationship, would have to wait until she turned 18, but in the past year, he’s asked her to have dinner with him after work. She’d always turn him down, telling him she either had a date with someone or had to be home with her parents. He hated when she was dating the oaf Thomas Middleton. He thought the football player wasn’t right for her and would make excuses for her to work late, running their plans. The day he found out that they were no longer dating, he celebrated inwardly. Osborne was a supermarket lifer, beginning his employment at 14 as a part-time stocker at a relative’s corner store. When he turned 16, he and his family realized that college was out of the question: he didn’t have the passion for it and they didn’t have the funds. He began to work more at the largest local supermarket chain, his shifts causing him to miss school, but no one cared. The day of his class’ graduation, he worked 12 hours. He knew what his place in society was, and that was to be a grocery store employee. He stood in the shadows and finished the cigarette he lit during his break. He scheduled one to coincide with Antoinette’s arrival. He wanted to talk with her, see how her prom went. He didn’t know this Chance person she talked about beyond what he overheard her telling the other girls and women at work. He gleaned from the discussions that Chance’s real name was Micah, that he attended a school in Schenectady, that he played soccer and ran track. In listening into the women talk, Osborne gathered that Antoinette met him while they were camping and had a special relationship, always together on vacations and holidays. His jealousy of this Chance grew in February. The teen had sent two dozen flowers to her while she was in class. He had thought of it, but decided against it, thinking the price of roses were too high. Osborne took one last long draw on his cigarette and watched the Chevy disappear. He flicked the remains away and headed into the market. He wanted to know she was, if he had any chance at her. Deep down, he knew he had none. |
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