There were days he’d give just about anything to be up there again, trying to beat the morning sun as he rushed down a runway at one hundred plus miles per hour.
Pulling a keychain out of his pocket, he handed the faded blue ring to his friend. The scratched letters of Pan American were still printed on the face.
“I remember this,” Joseph said with a laugh.
“I spent a lot of years with them. It’s the keepsake I refuse to let go of,” Sherman said.
“We all need to have keepsakes from the good old days. But Sherman, when your nephews are married and bringing more family home to you, then you won’t look so much at the past anymore. I love my present and I look forward to the future,” Joseph assured him.
“I think you are absolutely right, Joseph,” Sherman said. He put the keychain away and smiled. And then he grabbed a pen and paper and smiled even more broadly.
Let the matchmaking begin.
CHAPTER SIX
Stormy was startled from her short slumber by what sounded like someone trying to break down her apartment door. She had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning after getting home late from work.
Laying there a few more moments, she was furious when the pounding continued. Who would be so rude at such an early hour? It was only seven o’clock. Finally, when the noise continued on for what seemed to be forever, she threw off her covers with a frustrated sigh and stood up.
Glancing again at the vintage alarm clock, which was sitting on two upside-down milk crates covered with a piece of blue fabric, she realized only a minute had passed.
Throwing herself back down on the bed, she refused to answer her door, though she was now wide awake. She wouldn’t reward the person’s rude behavior by acknowledging his or her presence.
When five minutes passed and the intruder still refused to leave, she finally got up and pulled her pink terry cloth robe around her to stomp across her cold, worn wooden floors. She passed through her sparsely furnished, small living room and stood in front of her door.
“Whoever is out there can get the hell away from here before I cock the shotgun I’m currently holding,” she said, hoping her voice sounded a lot braver than she felt.
Silence greeted her statement.
“I’m not kidding. I grew up on an army base and I know how to use this thing,” she lied as she looked down at her sweaty palms. She didn’t even own a gun, but the person on the other side of the door didn’t know that.
Her neighborhood wasn’t the worst in town, but it most certainly wasn’t the best.
Several seconds passed—they seemed like freaking eons—and Stormy put her ear to the door. Only silence greeted her now. Great! The jerk had woken her up and now was running scared.
Maybe she should make a recording of her small speech and keep it at the ready for anyone stepping in front of her door before the hour of ten a.m.
Her hands still a bit shaky, Stormy made sure her security chain was tightly locked in place. Finally, she cracked her door a couple of inches. She peered down the hallway as far as she could see and found no one out there.
Had she scared the person off? That thought pleased her immensely. She was one tough girl. Yay for her.
Still, she really wanted to know what all the pounding had been about. “Is anyone out there?” she called out. Not a whisper could be heard in return.
A little bucked up, she slowly removed the chain and opened her door wide enough to look out to the other side of the hallway. The sound of the door creaking open gave her goose bumps, but when she looked down both sides of the hall, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Her eyes narrowed, and she immediately suspected that the creepy college dropout who lived a few units down might have been playing a prank on her. He never had a shortage of cheesy pickup lines or dirty jokes to share with anyone of the female gender. Perhaps he had just hammered on the door before heading out, thinking that he was being amusing.
Just as she began to turn and close the door, a flat white object on her mat caught her eye. Holding her robe closed with one hand, she reached down with the other and picked up the envelope.
Once safely back inside, with her lock securely in place, she noticed that the return address was the rental office of her building. She walked back to her bedroom, which was little more than an alcove with no wall or door.
Wondering what the management could be sending her, she tore open the letter. She sat on the edge of her bed and hesitantly pulled the piece of paper out. Oh, how she hoped it was simply an announcement about sink repairs. No such luck.
Dear Ms. Halifax:
Remodel to begin in four days. This is your final warning.
You must be out in seventy-two hours.
Stormy’s heart sank in her chest as she crumpled the paper in agitation. She had known this was coming, but still, she’d hoped beyond hope she could get an extension. Finding an affordable place in Seattle wasn’t easy.