Chapter 1 #2
“First, you take off the lugs. Put them in your pockets.” She reluctantly did as she was told, putting the lugs in the pockets of her pink sweater; she was better dressed for the occasion than he was.
“Now take off the wheel.” He watched and smiled as she struggled, getting herself completely filthy in the process.
Jerk… not sexy jerk. Just a plain old regular jerk.
“I’ll volunteer to put the new wheel on. It’s a little trickier.” He held the wheel with one knee as he struggled to align the wheel studs. She watched him as he wrestled with the tire, his body hard at work. She could tell he was hot; his hair slightly moist from the perspiration on his forehead.
Definitely sexy jerk; it was official. She had made up her mind.
He screwed the wheel lugs back on and lowered the jack, pulled the jack away and tightened the lugs. The job was done.
He swept his hand against his forehead as he stood up. “Got all that?”
“Yep. I think so,” she told him, thankful.
He walked over to the trunk, holding the tire and put it in the spot where the spare had been. She followed him eagerly.
“Thank you so much. You’re a good person,” she offered, truly thankful.
“Yes, so I’ve been told.” He wasn’t humble at all. “Now you get a new tire in here. I don’t want you to find yourself with another flat and no spare.”
“Yes, definitely.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he told her as he grabbed his jack and tire iron.
“Yes, same here.”
Unquestionably.
It had taken the better part of fifty minutes to change the tire. She was impressed by the fact that he had taken care to teach her everything as he changed the tire.
“It’s important for a woman to be independent and know these things,” he had told her.
Self-reliance lecture not withstanding, she did take a guilty pleasure in watching him work in his thin white shirt, watching his arms as he worked the tire iron and the jack.
She felt only a tinge of guilt. After all, she wouldn’t have been lusting over this stranger if Robert had come to her rescue.
She guessed it wouldn’t take her much longer to get there. The drive from her house was twenty minutes. With the fifty minutes delay, she was running quite late.
She made a quick call to Ellie, leaving a message to inform her she would be late for her meeting.
She had a quick moment of panic, unsure that she should have embarked on this little adventure.
But the flyer had played on her emotions, encouraging her to do something good. She couldn’t resist helping someone.
When she finally got there, she turned up the street and found herself going down a lushly treed road; the large mature trees forming and arch over her giving her the illusion of passing through a tunnel.
At the end of this magnificent tunnel, she found herself at an entrance with a wrought iron gate, complete with intercom. Wow!... this little escapade was proving itself to be more exciting than she had initially anticipated. She pulled down the window and stretched her neck out.
“Yes, Bowman residence,” a woman’s voice answered.
“My name is Angela. I’m here to see Dot.”
“Yes. She’s expecting you. Drive up.”
The gates automatically opened and for some reason, she felt special.
They had let her in; in her plain 2002 grey sedan.
As she drove up the tree lined paved road, she could see a beautiful home emerging through the trees; a gorgeous Tudor.
No, she couldn’t very well call it a house; it was more of a mansion or estate.
She wasn’t sure what they called ridiculously gigantic homes these days.
She drove up the circular driveway, past the stately entrance and the four car garage which led to a sign informing her to drive around to a small parking behind the house.
Beautiful landscaping adorned the house and ivy wrapped around it like a beautiful cashmere sweater on a spectacular looking woman.
There was a door at the side on the house.
A sign sat below the window on the door. It read “Please use this entrance”.
She rang the bell and waited. She rang again and waited. She was about to ring a third time when someone finally made their way to the door. Ellie greeted her with a smile, dressed in a simple black pant and white dress shirt; a jovial lady in her mid fifties.
“You must be Angela. I’m Ellie.” She reached for a handshake. Angela quickly obliged.
“Come in. I’ll take your jacket.”
Angela slipped off her shoes and tossed them to the side with a few other pairs while Ellie put her jacket in the coat room.
“Follow me.”
Angela followed her though the hall but was a little distracted. Beautiful artwork was displayed on the walls; renderings of doors: oils, watercolors and pen and ink. Some were small, some were large. They were all absolutely stunning. Each hung below a small light which emphasized their splendor.
She felt like she was in a gallery. Being an art lover; this was right up her alley. She wanted to keep looking at them but they had reached the end of the hall. Ellie was ahead of Angela and had stopped to wait for her.
“I’m sorry. These are just so amazing,” Angela told her.
“Dot’s right here in the study.” She approached her and whispered. “She can be a little...um...of a personality. An acquired taste if you will.”
“I’m sure I can handle her.” Angela smiled back. Little did she know…
Dot sat near the window in a gorgeous upholstered sage green velour chair, smoking a cigarette. An empty chair sat opposite her, a glass of water on the glass table next to her.
The room was filled with cream built-in bookcases which reached all the way to the top of the high ceilings. A tall ladder was attached to the bookcase, resting at the center of the vast collection of books. Angela had never, in her life, seen a study like this.
She caught a quick glimpse of the garden through the tall draped windows as she made her way to Dot, a magnificent garden. She planned to admire it further later, when given the chance.
“Hello, there. You must be Angelina,” Dot said, with a slight English accent.
“Umm... it’s Angela actually,” she clarified, offering her hand.
Angela was a little astounded by the grandiosity of her mere presence; an air she had.
Dressed to the nines in a red wool jacket and a pearl necklace, she may as well have been wearing a tiara.
Angela squeezed her hand lightly for fear of breaking her brittle bones.
She was quite delicate, shimmering silver hair, and a soft wrinkled face with small blue eyes.
Angela estimated her to be in her early eighties.
“You’re late,” she said sternly.
“Yes. I’m very sorry. I actually had a flat tire. Can you believe it?” Angela explained, seeking sympathy. There was none to be had.
“Well, you seem fine now.”
Angela couldn’t take her eyes off the room; with its intricate paneling, a large fireplace settled in white marble, a gold starburst mirror hanging overtop. The drapes on the windows were made of silk with exquisite detailing. A large sleek contemporary glass chandelier gave the room a warm glow.
“You’re older then I expected,” Dot told Angela, sizing her up.
I’m older than you expected?
“Usually I get the young girls in school, looking for extra volunteer work to get into fancy colleges. I get rid of them pretty fast.”
Angela was standing right in front of her and wondering when she would offer her a seat, smoke blowing upwards, in her face.
“Can I take a seat?” she asked as she sat down.
“You don’t mind the smoke, do you?” Dot asked, not really caring about the answer. It was more of a command than a question.
“No. My mother smoked all her life.”
“That’s good because I’m not planning to stop.” She tapped her cigarette on the side of her crystal ashtray.
“So why are you here?”
“Well...” Angela was taken aback. “Um... to get you books... to read....” she said, looking at the hundreds of books lining the walls.
A grand piano sat at the far corner, adorned with a bouquet of yellow flowers.
They looked fresh. She wanted to get up and smell them.
Actually, she wanted to go up the ladder.
She wanted to be anywhere but there, sitting in a cloud of smoke in front of this miserable woman.
“The other girls, they had a reason to be here. What’s yours? Don’t you have anything better to do than sit with old ladies?”
“Well, actually I do. I have a wedding to plan. I’m getting married,” she said proudly. Dot didn’t ask further questions. She didn’t care.
“I just...” she said, suddenly feeling stupid. “I want to help someone. Make a difference. Do something outside the house. Oh... I don’t know. Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“You’re sorrier than I am,” Dot told her, smiling.
“May I smell your flowers?” she asked as she got up; she needed to take a step back. They were real, of course, and beautiful.
“So what books do you enjoy? What should I get you?”
“Romance… anything romance… and drama. I love drama. I have a list of what I’ve already read. You can ask Ellie,” she told her, staring out the window. “…something with a little sex… but not too dirty.”
She put out her cigarette. “Ellie,” she yelled.
Ellie quickly appeared.
“Well… I’ve sat here so long, waiting for you… I need to go to the loo.”
Ellie helped her up from her chair. It took her a long time to make her way to the hall. It seemed her heels were not helping either. As irritated as Angela was, she still sympathized.
As soon as they left the room, Angela’s curiosity got the best of her and she took a little tour of the study. She checked out the garden; an oasis with tall lush cedar hedges, large mature trees, a fountain and multiple arches covered in vine. It was wonderful.
She looked at the architectural drawings on the walls. She didn’t know Dot very well but she thought the décor didn’t seem to suit her. She admired the fresh flowers on the piano, the bronze statues which she did not dare to touch and the books; hundreds of books.