3rd World Products, Inc. Book 7

by Ed Howdershelt

  Donna picked up her spoon and studied it in silence, then used it to stir her coffee, tapped it lightly on the edge of the cup three times, and set it on her napkin.

  Looking up, she met my gaze for a time before she said, “I guess I'll give things some more thought.” A few moments of silence later, Donna asked, “How would you like to help me sell a few things? The boat, the cars. The other stuff. You know the area better than I do."

  Hm. Knowing the area wouldn't make a damned bit of difference to the sale price of a boat or anything else. The Corvette was trashed and the boat and trailer were new, so there likely wouldn't be much ‘getting things ready’ to do.

  It seemed to me that Donna was just looking for some company she could trust, even if that company could be kind of hard to get along with at times.

  "Okay,” I replied in a careful tone, “I'm available unless Linda calls me away. But Jenny would probably be of more actual help in getting rid of things. She undoubtedly knows a lot more people around here than I do."

  "I'll talk to her, too, but she's going to need some time to recuperate from..."

  Shaking my head, I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

  "Nah. Physically, she's probably all healed up by now. Those ‘bots work fast. But even without them, most of getting over something like what Jenny's been through is mental."

  Sitting back, I said, “In fact, I think you should find reasons to spend a lot of time with Jenny. She has a lot of ego, ma'am, just like you. Sooner or later, she'll have to talk about things, if only to try to convince herself that there was absolutely nothing she could have done to prevent what happened to her. Most people who are willing to use hindsight on themselves are clumsy and brutal about it."

  Donna sipped her coffee, then said, “Yeah, I know. I was going to give her a few days before I ... Never mind that. Tell me something, Ed ... Would you be willing to take a power of attorney and handle getting rid of the house? You'd make a commission on the sale, of course."

  I replied instantly, “Nope. No thanks."

  "May I ask why?"

  "Tons of details to mess with. I hate details and a lawyer or a real estate agent would be better qualified. You can hop on your board and be here within a few hours from anywhere in the country if something needs signed."

  "What if I'm not in the country?"

  "Same answer. Use a lawyer and an agent. They'll know the real estate market and handle the paperwork. For that matter, you could just as easily rent the place out. Keep it as an investment and make it pay for itself."

  She seemed mildly incredulous as she asked, “Who's going to rent a house that size, Ed? Why would they want it?"

  "This is Florida, ma'am. It happens. Ask any agent. I'll help you clean, fix, paint, and like that, but I don't want to be part of the sale. Besides, I won't be here all the time, either, y'know."

  Donna regarded me as she sipped coffee, then said, “Well, there's not much to fix or paint, I'm afraid. Think you'd be any good as company for the next couple of months?"

  Meeting her gaze, I asked, “Think you can refrain from issuing orders that long?"

  She sipped again, then replied, “Probably not, but you could remind me that I'm off-duty, couldn't you?"

  Shrugging, I said, “Yeah, I guess I could do that."

  Nodding as if a deal had been struck, Donna said, “Okay, then. Now, how about a ride to the airport this evening? I'm going to DC for a week."

  "Got a better idea. How about a ride to DC? Skip the security rigmarole at the airports and save the price of a ticket. Holler when you're ready and I'll bring you back, too."

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Donna stared at me for a moment, then said, “Well, duh."

  "Duh?"

  "Yeah. Duh. I spent last night packing and calling people and arranging things, but it somehow never occurred to me to ask you for a ride to DC, even when I had to settle for an evening flight.” After a momentary pause, she added, “I'm taking Jenny with me. She's never seen Washington."

  "Sounds good. She could probably use a distraction right about now. Want to fly up there around noon?"

  "Noon? Why noon?"

  I shrugged. “Get there early instead of late. Have time to get organized and do stuff and like that. It would give you almost a whole extra day to play with."

  Sitting back in her chair, Donna eyed me briefly and said, “I had thought about spending the afternoon with you."

  Trying to look happily surprised, I replied, “Oh. Well, I guess that could work, too, of course."

  Looking thoughtful, she sipped her coffee and drew invisible rings on the table with an index finger, then said, “But you're right. A few business hours there today could ... Yeah. Going up early is a good idea, Ed. You sure you don't mind?"

  Snorting a chuckle, I replied, “Until you mentioned your other plans for the day, I didn't.” Sighing as if vastly disappointed, I stood up and said, “Ah, well. Shoulda kept my mouth shut. Just gimme a call when you're ready to go."

  As I gulped down the last of my coffee, Donna also stood up and asked, “You're going home now?"

  "Oh, hell, no, milady. I have an hour to play with the bike before noon."

  She looked out the window at the Vulcan and shook her head. “I don't understand how you can ... Well, I mean ... You have your board and the flitter, Ed. Why is an old motorcycle such a damned big deal?"

  When her gaze swung from the bike to me, I asked, “Do you like to ride horses, Cap'n Donna?"

  Shrugging, she answered, “Sure. Who doesn't?"

  "Even though you have a high-end Beemer to drive?"

  With a wry look, she replied, “Yeah, I see what you mean."

  Leaning across the table, I said in a confidential tone, “That bike can do a quarter-mile in thirteen seconds."

  She snickered and whispered back, “Is that good?"

  "For a street cruiser? Oh, yeah. Zero to sixty in three gears and about four seconds from a dead stop. It could do better, but I'd have to lean over the bars to keep the nose down."

  Donna laughed, “God ... you sound like my sister's kid talking about his dirt bike. Don't boys ever grow up?"

  Shaking my head slightly, I replied, “Nah. Well, not too much. Not if we're lucky, that is."

  As we approached the register, she coughed gently and commented softly, “Then you must have been very lucky."

  I put the ticket for our coffees and two bucks in the cashier's hand and blithely replied, “I really couldn't say, ma'am. Can't see the forest for all the damned trees in the way, y'know?"

  Fishing her cell phone out of her purse, Donna flicked it on and poked a number with her thumb as we went outside.

  "It's me,” she said into the phone as we neared the Vulcan, “Ed's giving us a ride to DC. We're leaving at noon.” After a pause, she said, “Shouldn't be a problem. I'll be there in a few minutes, Jen. Yeah. Okay,” and disconnected.

  Facing me, she said, “We'll be ready. I'll leave my car at Jenny's and we'll go from there."

  Nodding, I said, “All set, then. See you there, ma'am,” and thumbed the Vulcan's ‘start’ button. Donna seemed surprised, so I asked, “What?"

  "Well, I expected a little more noise..."

  Putting my helmet on, I said, “'Louder’ doesn't necessarily mean ‘more powerful', y'know."

  "Well, no, but...” she shruggingly sighed, “Never mind. I'll get going now and let you play with your new toy."

  She called up her board, stepped onto it, and cast one last ‘dubious sanity’ look at me as she lifted skyward.

  A middle-aged woman who'd been getting out of a blue SUV a few spaces away reacted to Donna's departure by freezing halfway out of the vehicle to staringly watch Donna's rapid upward progress.

  Her openmouthed stare fell to me, and rather than waste riding time in discussion, I put the Vulcan in gear and pretended not to hear her yelp “What the hell was that?!” as I got underway toward the stoplight at US-19.

  Wit
h nowhere in particular to go, I decided to take a local scenic route; the road that follows the coastline and passes through Hernando Beach. It loops around and returns to SR-50 a few miles north and only two miles or so from my house.

  Donna's presence—or maybe I was feeling the presence of her field-generated board?—remained above me, although I didn't spot her with a quick upward glance.

  No matter. I headed for the beach road and hit another red light. When it changed, I quickly powered the Vulcan through the gears to sixty and held it there.

  The presence moved and grew closer. I took the bike up to seventy as I felt Donna take up a position on my right, perhaps two feet above the shoulder of the road.

  When I glanced at her, she was studying the bike, not me. Her eyes flicked upward from the rear wheel and met my next glance. After I passed a pickup truck I glanced at her again.

  Donna grinned at me, shook her head slightly, and gave me a little ‘bye-bye’ wave before she nosed her board up and away.

  —3rd World Products, Inc., Book 7—

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