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***
It was ten minutes to eight when Jocelyn appeared in his Reggie’s office. She had the long overdue report in hand and presented it to him.
“So, we’re going to dinner,” he said, taking the report from her hand. Not glancing at the file, he got up and grabbed his suit coat from a chair in the corner.
You’re not even going to look at it?” Jocelyn said, annoyed.
“My, how quick we change from peaceful to high-strung,” he said, observing the bite in her voice. “Maybe you need a few more cuts of the cane?”
“Oh heavens no, but…”
“Hush. I’m hungry and so are you.”
He reached out for her as he was on his way toward the door, kissing her cheek with rare affection.
***
The deli was crowded, the tables cramped, Jocelyn and Reggie finding a tiny table in the back corner, only slightly away from the bustle of activity.
“Food here’s great,” he said.
“I know,” she agreed. “I used to live in a flat down the block.”
“Rotten neighborhood,” he remarked. A genuine look of concern in his eye, as if he was thinking of her walking the rough streets of this part of town.
“I know that, too. Fought off drunks here more than I’d have liked. Thankfully they were drunk.”
“So, what landed you in this avenue of despair?”
“It was hardly despair at all. I was starting my own company. I needed a place in the city. This was all I could afford. And the apartment was nice, really nice, big rooms, fresh paint, totally luxury,” she joked.
He chuckled, her beguiling face and especially the clear captivating drama in her green eyes made it easy for him to laugh.
“You’ve never been poor have you?” she asked.
“Once.”
“Really? When?”
“I flunked out of law school, and my father threatened to disown me. He did cut off all my money.”
“So what did you do?”
“Started making it. Ground floor success story. Someone will write a book about me someday.”
“My you’re smug.”
“I’m well practiced.” He looked at Jocelyn’s bright face. She glowed in the dingy light of the deli, like a pure radiant star amidst the odd gloom of the place. Her lustrous hair almost sparkled.
“Oops, don’t say too much, you might really tell tales on yourself,” she said.
“I should be careful of you. I’m beginning to think that you study people as much as I do.”
She smiled, liking his lighthearted mood. “So, if daddy cut you off, how’d you get the place at Lake Tahoe?”
“I inherited his money, in spite of his disapproval of me. He had no other progeny, and by the time he died, I’d made a good deal of money. His viewpoint of me was tolerable by then, I so suppose the inheritance was not too bitter a pill to swallow.”
“You sound cynical.”
