Chance Encounter

Chance Encounter

Autumn Writer

Chapter 9 Endings and Beginnings Part II

It was the middle of March. Paul found himself seated on an airliner next to Ted Wilson on their way to Chicago. They had two items on their agenda that day. First, was the signing of the dismissal agreement on the Peoria lawsuit. Paul’s and Leonard Raines’ plan worked to near perfection. A small flap developed when the plaintiff’s side asked for a ‘hold harmless’ clause. It was due to Paul’s mention of Harry Carmichael’s company’s losses on account of the suit. For that reason Harry would be there to sign off, too. Ted had been suspicious at first, but decided in the end to accept the concession. It was worth it to put the episode at an end. Paul didn’t mind Ted’s circumspection. It was his job.

The second piece of business was to sign a new contract with Harry Carmichael’s company for the Peoria construction.

As the plane bumped across the thermal updrafts over Lake Michigan, Paul thought about all those who should have been asked to sign the ‘hold harmless’ agreement. He thought of Glenda and her career, of his own lost stock options. Of course, Audrey had been hurt the worst. Even Craig Morehead was a victim in a certain way. Most of those touched had survived, but all were scarred.

Ted interrupted Paul’s thoughts. “Who are you going to put in charge of the project, now that it’s back on?”

“Jim Spencer,” Paul replied. “He’s in Europe right now on the Engineering Standards Project. When he comes back, I’ll tell him to start handing that off to Harlow, piece by piece. After the plant is complete, I’m going to try to have him installed as Plant Manager. It would be just the right job for him at this stage of his career. It will give him a chance to get away from HQ for a few years and stand on his own two feet.”

Ted nodded. “I don’t know who you’re going to get to replace him.”

“I thought that I would start to bring Harlow along. He’s a good engineer, but he needs to work on his leadership skills. I’m hoping to bring him in closer and give him some tutoring.” The conversation energized Paul. It was one of the parts of his job that he liked.

“I don’t want to rain on your parade,” Ted went on. “Your name came in front of the Ethics Committee again last week.”

“Oh, no!” cried Paul. He looked around the plane. He knew that the other passengers must have heard him over the sound of the jet engines. He lowered his voice. “What about this time?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, so don’t quote me. It has something to do with photographs you received of Hopkins and Judson. They tabled it for now. They’ll decide later whether to take it up.”

Paul told Ted the story of the photographs of Hopkins and Judson in their homosexual embrace.

“I shredded them!” Paul declared. “How can that be unethical?”

“They’ll probably say that you should have reported it. Don’t tell me where you got the photos. Then I’ll have to tell them if they ask me,” Ted advised. “I can tell you that Allison Greene is the one pushing it.”

Paul had already guessed that, but kept silent on how he had stumbled across Greene’s wanderings between Richardson’s and her hotel rooms.

“That Ethics Committee is getting to be a real Gestapo,” Paul declared.

“I would have to say that’s true,” Ted agreed as the plane bumped down on the runway. “In a year, they’ll probably meet once a year over coffee. Since it’s all new, they have to prove themselves.”

**********

The parties met to sign the agreements in a meeting room at the Federal courthouse in Chicago. It was a somber affair. The lawyers took on the persona of bureaucrats, signing and notarizing. Hopkins was present; Judson wasn’t. He had his usual dour expression painted on his face beneath his beard. Leonard Raines had planned on attending but had a last-minute conflict. He sent a lawyer to represent him.

Larry Wilton showed up, flanked by an honor guard of attorneys. It irked Paul that he failed to ask about Audrey. Paul told him anyway. Wilton told him that Craig Morehead’s case had cooled off. The court psychologist had declared him unfit for trial. Nothing had been done to extradite Grafton. Without Morehead’s cooperation, it would never happen. Even if Morehead were so disposed, he lacked the mental competence to testify.

Paul made a note to ask Ted to write to the DA in Springfield to make sure that Morehead didn’t make bail. He thought that it was essential for Audrey’s safety. Normally, he would have asked Wilton to attend to it, but he didn’t trust him to do so.

Harry Carmichael, the only one without a lawyer to guard him, was the last to sign. Everyone shook hands and prepared to leave.

“Paul, wait a minute,” Hopkins called out as everyone was leaving the room.

Paul didn’t really want to meet with Hopkins, but couldn’t find a way to avoid it. The two kept silent until all had left the room.

“Well, you won,” Hopkins said.

“Are you saying that I won because you didn’t?” Paul asked.

“I guess so,” Hopkins muttered.

“I have higher standards than that, Arthur,” Paul declared. “No one won. It cost everyone involved. For some, it cost a lot.”

“Your company can afford it. It was pocket change,” Hopkins countered.

“Is that all you can see, Arthur?” Paul snarled. “What about a young woman who was raped by one of your flunkies. How about people with no jobs? How about Glenda?”

“What about Glenda?” Hopkins asked. “She’s got a new job—better than her old one. She should thank me!”

“You chased her out the job that was her life. You made her a prisoner in her own home. You spied on us at the lake. I wouldn’t say that she’s better off.”

“What about you, Paul? I heard you lost some big money. Of course, you lost your little romance with Glenda,” Hopkins sneered.

“Did you keep me in here just to rub it in, Arthur? If you did, I think that we’re finished.” Paul tried to get angry, but although being with Hopkins was unpleasant, it couldn’t get him excited. “I should have published those pictures of you. It would have served you right.”

“You really did shred them. I never believed you,” Hopkins said. “You’re a boy scout at heart, Paul. That’s why we could never be friends.”

“Is that all, Arthur? I’m losing interest.”

“No, in fact it isn’t.” Hopkins said, turning serious. “I wanted to tell you something. You’ll be the first to know.”

“I’m listening,” Paul sighed.

“None of this matters to me anymore, Paul,” Hopkins said as he turned melancholy. “I had a test last week and found out—I have AIDS. I never even knew I had the virus. I don’t even know where I got it.”

“Does Judson know?” Paul asked.

Hopkins shook his head.

“I hope you enjoy telling him,” Paul said.

Before he left, Paul had one final word for his old enemy. He knew that he should have kept it to himself, but he let it out anyway.

“Arthur, I should say that I’m sorry for you—but I just can’t.”

Paul turned and left, leaving the downcast Hopkins in the room.

*************

April was giving way to May. Paul looked forward to the warm weather. He had neglected his golf game the prior year—handicap up to twelve. He was determined not to let that happen again. He had a full plate at work. He was without the aid of Jim Spencer who was spending more time in Peoria. Bert Loehman had retired and he hadn’t found a suitable replacement. He was thinking that a reorganization might be the right way to go. Nothing had come of the Ethics Committee warning given him by Ted Wilson a few months ago. He stopped worrying about it.

Harry Carmichael requested a meeting with Paul to go over a phase of the construction plan. Jim Spencer had briefed Paul already. Harry wanted to step up the pace, but he needed overtime money and wanted Paul to approve an add-on to the contract. Normally, Paul would rely on Spencer to make the call, but it was his first time so Paul decided to sit in. He asked them to meet him in Chicago. He would lay over for a night on his return from his East Coast trip. He had Marge set it up. Paul and Jim would drive up the next morning.

Paul landed at O’Hare at three in the afternoon on the appointed day. He was beat. The New Jersey facilities were complex and there were many issues stemming from a recent operational audit. One plant engineer was retiring in November and another was on shaky ground. He was thinking that he should have saved Spencer for one of those jobs. There was a lot to do. He thought that he would change into some old clothes and just have a sandwich in his room and watch the baseball game on the television.

The Drake was expensive, but Paul thought that it was worth it. It was an easy cab ride to the airport, and they had small meeting rooms available to guests. It would do fine.

“You have a message, Sir!” the woman tending the desk said as she handed him an envelope. Paul decided to open it when he got to his room. He refused the bellman’s help and made his way to the elevator.

The contents of the envelope were a mystery. Paul had his cell phone with him. Marge could have reached him with anything important. After he set his bags down, he tore the envelope open. There was a note inside it, and a ticket to the Cubs game later that evening. Paul read the note. It was typewritten, which struck Paul as odd.

“I thought that you would like to see a game. I’ll meet you there.

Harry

Going to the game ran counter to Paul’s original plan, but it was a welcome change. The Cubs were playing the Dodgers. The game was at seven. Paul had plenty of time to shower and get a cab to Wrigley Field. While he was showering, he thought that he would razz Harry about spending money for ball games and then asking for overrun money on the same trip.

Paul arrived at the stadium at six-thirty.

“This world is in a sorry state when we have night games at Wrigley,” he joked to the usher as he showed him to his seat. They both laughed. Paul knew that the older man would understand the joke, so he didn’t mind dating himself.

Harry had gone all-out and bought box seats on the third-base side. It was the best side if there were close plays at the plate. Paul assumed that Jim Spencer and Harry would show up together, but so far they hadn’t. Paul settled in and waited for the hot dog and beer vendors to come by.

Infield practice was finished; the players lined up at the dugouts for the national anthem. Paul stood as it played over the loud speaker. He was wondering where Carmichael and Spencer were. He wasn’t worried. With or without them, he was looking forward to the game. He was hungry. Over his left shoulder he heard the vendor barking.

“Hot Daawgs HERE! Get your hot dogs here!”

Paul glanced to his left to see if he could get his attention, and hopefully spy a beer hawker, too. As his head was turned he felt the presence of a body taking the seat in his box just to the right of him.

“It must be Harry,” Paul thought. He swung his head around to say hello.

As the words started to escape his mouth, he held them back. It was neither Jim nor Spencer who’d taken the seat next to him. For a few seconds he didn’t know what to say, and the person seated next to him wasn’t speaking either. Paul gathered himself. He could only blurt out what his mind told him.

“I gave up on ever seeing you again,” he said.

“I’ve missed you,” answered Glenda. “Are you glad that I’m here?”

It was a big question. He had a right to ask so many questions of his own, and receive satisfactory answers to them all.

“Yes,” Paul answered. He paused and thought for a few moments. Glenda looked at him with searching eyes. “Yes, I am glad to see you.” He leaned closer to her and threw his right arm around her shoulder. They relaxed into one another as though they had been apart for hours, not months. They leaned back together as the starting pitcher finished his warm-ups.

“Actually,” she began, “I came to see you because you know so much about baseball. I’ve become a big fan.”

“How’s that?” Paul asked, deciding to play along.

“It’s the ‘Infield Fly Rule’,” Glenda explained. “I just don’t get it.”

“When there are less than two outs,” Paul recited, “with runners on First or ….”

Glenda stopped him by reaching her left hand over his shoulder and holding Paul’s head still with her right hand. She leaned over and her tongue danced in his earlobe.

“I’m advancing at my own risk,” she whispered into his ear.

A broad smile drew across Paul’s face, and then a laugh. Glenda eased back into her seat, unsuccessful at suppressing a grin.

“A young man, hearing those words that you just whispered in my wet ear, would pick you up and carry you out of the ballpark,” Paul informed her. “He’d drag you back to his hotel room and have his way with you until the sun came up.”

“That sounds interesting!” Glenda purred.

“Perhaps,” Paul agreed, “but I’m an older man and …”

“Older and more experienced!” Glenda corrected.

“An older man likes to let the wine age a bit, if you know what I mean,” Paul concluded.

“You’re saying that you want to stay and watch the game. It’s alright,” Glenda laughed. “We’ll have plenty of time.”

“Let’s have a beer,” Paul suggested.

As the inning ended and they drank their beer Glenda turned serious.

“I have a lot to say to you. There are a lot of things I have to explain,” Glenda said.

“Later!” Paul commanded. “Right now I just want to relax and enjoy being with you.”

“Alright,” Glenda agreed and pushed herself closer to him. She stroked his thigh a few times and then let her hand rest halfway between his knee and hip.

“So Harry Carmichael decided to play ‘Matchmaker’. When did he give you the ticket?” Paul queried.

“It wasn’t Harry,” she answered. “It was Marge Bates. She set the whole thing up.”

**********

The Dodgers beat the Cubs. As usual, the Cubs were a pitcher short.

“I brought my car,” Glenda announced as they were filing out of the stadium after the game. “I have a change of clothes so that I can go to work from the hotel.”

Glenda drove. There was a line waiting to clear the parking lot. As they sat in traffic Glenda was eager to tell Paul about her job at the MERC.

“It’s a lot faster pace than I had been used to, but the support is so much greater. It’s certainly a lot more exciting,” she told him. It was the first time that she had worked under a female executive, but she said that there was little difference.

“I’m making more money, but it’s more expensive to work inside the loop. They even paid out some money to buy my pension credits,” she went on.

“How are your Paralegal Courses going?” Paul asked. He knew as soon as he said it that he had given himself away. It was an accidental slip.

“It was you!” she gasped. “Shirley Kramer would never tell me who had set me up with her, but I always had a feeling that it was you. How else would you know about the paralegal courses?”

“Guilty as charged!” Paul confessed. “A guy named Ted Wilson—whom you’re sure to meet one day soon—helped too.”

Paul searched Glenda’s face for signs of unhappiness. He knew that she valued her independence.

“Glenda,” he continued, “all that I did was to arrange some circumstances so that you would have the chance to win the job. That’s all I could ever do. You won the job yourself.”

“I know, Paul,” she agreed. “Thank you. You saved my sanity. I had to escape from Judson.”

“I know.” Paul said. “That’s what I figured when the photos showed up.”

“Marge Bates told me that you had her shred them,” Glenda acknowledged. “Thank goodness! I was so angry and desperate. I thought that I had lost the job at MERC because there was a delay. I learned later that they were settling the pension money. After I sent them, I was ashamed, but it was too late.”

“It’s over now,” Paul said.

Paul told Glenda about the resolution of the Peoria case. He left out the part about Hopkins having AIDS.

By that time, they arrived at the hotel. Glenda turned her car over to the valet attendant and took her garment bag and a small suitcase from the trunk. Soon they were in Paul’s room at the Drake. It was almost eleven o’clock.

**********

They didn’t order drinks from room service. They didn’t fumble with the controls for piped-in romantic music. Glenda brought a negligee, but left it in her suitcase. They didn’t embrace, and then romantically undress each other, either.

Paul set down Glenda’s suitcase, and hung her garment bag in the closet. Maid service had turned down the bed. Glenda marched to the head of king-sized bed and took the chocolates from the pillows and set them aside. She pulled the covers the rest of the way off. When she was finished Paul was standing at the foot of the bed waiting for her to finish.

She gave him a glance and kicked off her shoes. Paul did the same. The matched each other with the buttons of their shirts. Paul’s slacks and Glenda’s jeans soon followed.

Soon they were both clad only in their underwear. Glenda reached behind and unsnapped her bra. She threw it aside without ceremony. She was nude, save her panties. Her breathing quickened.

“Remember these?” she asked, holding up her small breasts and bringing back a memory of a day many years in the past.

“I remember everything!” Paul replied.

They looked at one another for a few long seconds. Paul yanked down his shorts. Glenda looked at his erect penis pointing at her. There were droplets of fluid leaking from the tip and falling to the floor.

“I can’t wait to get in bed with you!” Glenda gasped as she slid her panties to the floor and stepped out of them.

They stepped forward and met, clutching each other. Paul bent down to engulf her mouth with his own. Each tongue lashed the other. He dropped his hands to her buttocks to clutch them, and then ran his hands the length of her slender back, digging his fingers into every muscle in his path.

Glenda reached down to capture his erection in her small, warm hand, which brought a groan of pleasure from him.

Paul reached down to grasp her bottom again. This time he lifted her. Glenda threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Paul carried her to the empty bed and set her down on it. Glenda scooted to the middle, lay on her back, reaching out to grab his arms and pull him down.

Paul lowered himself down to her. He fastened his lips around a nipple and sucked hard on it. She wrapped her arms around his head and pressed him down on her breast. Paul slid his finger between her vaginal lips and touched the wet softness. Glenda responded by thrusting her hips upward to force his fingers deeper into her. She was hot and panting. Paul felt her heating hotter by the second. Involuntary groans of passion issued from her throat.

Glenda released Paul’s head and used all her strength to pull him atop her. She spread her legs and grabbed the cheeks of his buttocks to guide him in. Paul complied. He thrust in deep, sliding through the moistened chamber. He withdrew and thrust again, reveling in Glenda’s moans of pleasure.

“I’ve been without you too long,” he sighed.

His utterance was Glenda’s cue to take over the pace. She lifted her legs high in the air, spread to the limit and thrust them around Paul’s torso. She pounded her hips up against his, sliding him through her body. Paul allowed the excitement of the act to overtake him. His pleasure mounted with Glenda’s every thrust. Finally, he summoned his strength to raise up on his arms and withdrew himself from her.

“It’s been a long time for me,” he told her in all honesty. “At this pace I won’t last very long.”

“I don’t care!” she cried. “Don’t hold back—just come when you’re ready.”

He slid back inside her. Glenda thrust at him with even more abandon. She began a slow crescendo of pleasured gasps with each new thrust. Paul’s attention turned from his own pleasure to observing Glenda’s ascent. He surprised himself by holding off his climax longer than he had thought possible. Glenda kept up the pace. Paul responded by matching her. Glenda was climbing higher and higher.

At long last, Paul’s orgasm came upon him. He thrust in as deeply as he could and poured himself into her. With each of his spasms he watched Glenda gasp for breath. He kept himself inside her after he finished. Glenda resumed her pace. After two or three more cycles she came, a strong climax that made her exhale all her breath as she remained tensed for long seconds.

As they descended from their heights, Paul withdrew from her and dismounted. The release of their energy into one another filled a cavity in their souls that had so long needed mending.

Paul laid on his back, Glenda aside him, her head on his shoulder. They said nothing for a while as they savored the special moment. They would make love again before drifting off to sleep, but nothing could match the intensity that they had just achieved.

Glenda broke the silence.

“I should never have shut you out.”

“It’s in the past,” Paul answered. “I’m more worried about the future.”

“You deserve some answers. Don’t you want them?” she asked.

“Not really!” was the reply.

“Why not? You have a right to them!” she insisted.

“Because no matter what you would say it wouldn’t change my mind about anything. I’d still want you,” he countered.

“You’re never going to make me explain or apologize?” she asked.

“Nope!”

“Then we can go back just like we were before?”

“It can’t be like before,” Paul declared. “We’ve been through a lot since before. I care for you more now.”

Paul wondered if what he’d just uttered could have put Glenda off. He knew what she’d told him about possessing her—even if it had been nearly a year ago. But he meant what he said. He didn’t make such statements lightly and those were his terms.

She answered by kissing him on the side of his face. It was answer enough.

They eased into one another. Paul was stoking her back.

“Don’t you want to ask me anything?” she tried him once again.

“Yes!” he said. “Do you want to order breakfast from room service tomorrow, or eat in the dining room?”

“Ohhh!” she growled and then climbed on top of him.

They decided on the dining room.

*********

Paul arrived at the office the next day at four in the afternoon. Life was looking up since reuniting with Glenda. As he passed Marge he set a vase with a rosebud on her desk that he bought for her at a florist as he drove to the office from the airport.

“You deserve more, but it’s the thought that counts,” Paul said as he walked by.

“So it went well?” Marge confirmed as he disappeared into his office.

“Better than well,” Paul called back from inside his office. “Thanks, Marge.”

“I charged the baseball tickets to your credit card,” she called back.

Paul emptied out his briefcase, preparing to write up a summary of his New Jersey trip. He was full of energy, although he had no right to be. He and Glenda had saved little time for sleep the night before. He was finishing off a tough East Coast trip, and just came off a flight from Chicago. Putting things right with Glenda changed his outlook.

He spied a pile of unopened mail on the corner of his desk. He sorted through it for anything that appeared urgent. One of the envelopes was an inter-office correspondence that was marked ‘Confidential’. Paul didn’t open it; he knew that the Ethics Committee was at it again.

Marge buzzed and told him that Glenda was on the phone.

Paul: Hi, Glenda. How are you holding up? We didn’t get much sleep last night.

Glenda: It was alright with me. Once in a while we have to pretend that we’re still twenty. But Paul, that’s not why I called. I only have a few minutes, and then I have to get to my Paralegal class. I have some news that I think that you should know.

Paul: Sounds serious—what is it?

Glenda: It came over the news this afternoon. Dean Judson and Arthur Hopkins committed suicide last night. They jumped together from the roof of the building where Judson’s condo is located. The news article was really about Judson, since he’s local. Hopkins was only mentioned in passing.

Paul told Glenda of Hopkins’ AIDS revelation.

Paul: Did they leave a suicide note?

Glenda: The news report didn’t say.

Paul: How do you feel?

Glenda: I don’t know how to feel. I can’t be glad of that happening to anyone, but it’s hard to feel bad after what they did to me. It makes me feel guilty because of the photos.

Paul: I understand. But the photos didn’t give him the disease—keep that in mind.

Glenda: I know. I’ve got to run. Thanks for listening.

Paul hung up and thought about the news. He wasn’t surprised. He reached down deep and looked for some sorrow to pull to the surface, but found none. He wouldn’t stoop to hypocrisy, especially to himself. He wondered if the news would prompt the Ethics Committee to shelve their inquiry.

At that moment, Ted Wilson appeared in the doorway. Paul motioned him inside.

“Welcome back!” Ted greeted him. “There’s news about your friend, Hopkins.”

Paul decided to forego correcting Ted about whether or not Hopkins was his friend.

“I know,” he replied. “Glenda just called and told me.”

“So you two are back together! That’s great!” Ted digressed. “That’s not why I’m here. The Ethics Committee is going forward with its inquiry on the Hopkins photos. You’re on the hot seat again, I’m afraid.”

“I thought that they might forget it now that Hopkins and Judson are dead. Between you and me, I’m ashamed to say that I’m glad that they’re dead. They had a lot to answer for,” Paul confessed.

“You might want to adopt a more sanctimonious attitude—at least outside these four walls,” Ted warned him. “The suicides are heating up the Ethics Committee’s inquiry, not cooling it down. I was just a fly on the wall in the Directors’ Meeting and Allison Greene is quite upset. Frankly, she let everyone know that she’s blaming you, personally, for the deaths.”

“I didn’t do anything but shred the photos when I received them,” Paul replied.

“You can probably convince them of that,” Ted began. “They’re going to make you divulge where you got them.”

“I won’t do it,” Paul declared.

“You better think about it. You have a week. At least contact those involved and see what they think,” Ted advised.

“Alright, Ted. Thanks for letting me know.”

Paul’s mind was already made up. He would tell them nothing.

“Who in hell do they think they are? This time I will tell them to go to hell.”

***********

The Ethics Committee meeting was under way. Marge had testified earlier that she had shredded the photos. She told the members that Jim Spencer was present when Paul gave her the material for destruction, but that she had not seen Jim give anything to Paul.

The three members of the Committee took their accustomed stances. Allison Greene was aggressive in pursuing the case. Elizabeth Pender kept questioning why the inquiry was important at all. Alan Richardson maintained his elder statesman role in the middle. To add seriousness to the proceedings, Earl Carleton, Board Chairman and CEO, and George Adams were present as observers. Ted Wilson was asked to sit in for legal advice.

It was revealed that Judson’s suicide note blamed the photos for his and Hopkins’ decision to kill themselves.

Greene led the inquisition.

“So you admit receiving blackmail materials, Mr. Crane,” accused the bitter Allison Greene.

“I acknowledge receiving certain photos. I took no part in acquiring them, and did nothing with them except destroy them. I prevented blackmail,” he answered.

“That’s what Mrs. Bates said,” Greene sneered. “Who gave you the photos?”

“I refuse to tell you,” Paul said.

“You have to tell!” Greene insisted.

“I won’t!” Paul shot back.

“Did Jim Spencer give you the material?” Greene asked.

“No!” Paul replied emphatically.

For the first time in his career Paul had just lied to any superior about anything. It didn’t go down easy, although he’d decided in advance how he would answer the inevitable question. It was a bitter taste, a stain he was forced to smear on himself. It was brought on him so that Richardson could receive sex from Greene. They robbed him of his integrity, which he treasured more than all else—and Paul knew that they would squander his treasure as easily as a spoiled heir spends his allowance.

Greene turned to her colleagues.

“This man is the cause the deaths of two prominent men. He must be directed to tell us who gave him the photos.”

“I told Hopkins that I destroyed the photos and the related disk,” Paul argued. “They knew there would be no blackmail. They killed themselves because they had AIDS. Hopkins told me, himself, he had the disease. What Judson wrote in his suicide note is a lie. The two of them were guilty of many bad acts. They kept it up right to the end.”

“That’s what you say,” Greene shot back. “What proof do you have?”

“My word has always been good enough,” Paul countered.

“Not any more,” Greene retorted.

“None of that matters—whatever their motives or what you did with the photos,” Richardson interjected. “It was attempted blackmail by someone, and that’s a felony. You have to disclose the source.”

Greene leaned back in her chair with a smirk on her face.

“That’s not necessarily true,” Ted Wilson pointed out. “Criminal law isn’t my specialty, but…”

“Enough!” Richardson shouted as he rose up. He glanced at Green for a second and then sat back down. “It’s close enough for our purposes,” he explained as he resumed his paternal tone. “He is directed to tell us.”

“Wait!” Pender cried. “We’re risking losing one of our best executives over nothing.”

“Guys like him are a dime a dozen!” Greene snarled.

“Come to order!” Richardson demanded, before Pender could respond. “We’ll vote on the record. The motion is to recommend to the Board of Directors that Paul Crane be ordered to divulge the source of the photographs he received of Arthur Hopkins and Dean William Judson.”

Greene seconded.

Carleton and Adams remained silent.

The clerk called out the names.

“Greene!”

“Yes.”

“Pender!”

“No.”

“Richardson!”

“Yes.”

“The ‘Yeses” have it. The motion is carried,” Richardson pronounced.

Silence took over the room for some moments. Paul expected Richardson to say something else, but he didn’t.

“I want it in writing,” Paul demanded.

“It will go to the full Board for approval,” Richardson corrected.

“I want it in writing,” Paul repeated. He stood to leave the room.

“Please think it over, Paul,” George Adams finally spoke up.

Paul kept walking and closed the door behind him.

**********

Paul knew that the Board would not meet for a week. It gave him some time to clear up some of his details.

Paul told Marge what had happened. She started sobbing.

“Relax, Marge!” he told her. “It will be easier for us to be friends if I’m not your boss.”

Paul called Jim Spencer on Peoria.

“My final order to you, Jim, is to never admit that you gave me those pictures. You did nothing except carry them to me in your briefcase, but they’ll crucify you, anyway. What would be the point?”

He called Larry Wilton to inquire about Grafton. When Hopkins died, Montgomery cut Grafton loose. He had lost his leverage with them. The case against him, however, was placed on the inactive list because it was hopeless without Morehead’s testimony.

On his final day Paul was packing his desk. He was nearly ready to go. He had said all his good-byes. Ted Wilson appeared at his door.

“I’m supposed to convince you to change your mind,” Ted told him.

“I can’t do that, Ted.”

“Can’t—or won’t?” Ted asked.

“Both, I guess,” Paul answered.

“What are you going to do? You’re too young to retire,” Ted queried.

“I’m still the best engineer that I know. I’ll set up a consulting business. Harry Carmichael already asked me to join up with him. I think that I’ll go it alone for a year and build up some clients. I might go in with him when I can bring something of my own to the party.”

“So, you’re not going to change your mind?” Ted tried a last time.

Paul shook his head.

“The company won’t be the same without you,” Ted pleaded.

“It’s already not the same company anymore,” Paul answered. “Allison Greene and Alan Richardson are calling the shots now. You heard Greene. She said that guys like me are a dime a dozen. If that’s what they think, let them give it a try and see how far they get.”

“Nobody but Greene thinks that. I know Richardson doesn’t. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with him,” Ted argued.

“What about Adams and Carleton? Where were they when I needed them?”

“It’s all political,” Ted admitted. “It’s the era we’re living in. Greene has political connections and could spoil a lot of things for the company if she wants to.”

“Translated, that means they don’t have any guts to take her on,” Paul declared. “Lack of guts is a form of cancer. Soon everyone looks the other way. It allows characters like Allison Greene to take over.”

“I know…” Ted began to say.

“I don’t have to worry about it anymore,” Paul declared.

“You’ll worry about it, anyway.” Ted warned.

“I’m going to try not to,” Paul quipped back. “Look, if they want to back down, you have my number.”

“I tried as hard as I could,” Ted admitted.

“I’ll see you on the golf course,” Paul said, shaking hands with Ted. “My handicap is down to eight, you know.”

He took a final look around, picked up his briefcase; he hugged Marge one last time, and left.

*********

It was a week later at the cabin on the Peninsula.

Paul hung up his cell phone. Glenda was waiting for him. They had just eaten dinner and were going to have their coffee on the porch of the cabin. Though Paul was no longer employed at Dunn, the stolen weekends at the cabin were becoming more difficult to arrange—or at least it seemed that way.

It was raining hard. It pounded on the cabin roof and the trees and the lake. Daylight was fading, so the storm stirred the hearing senses and a sense inside that reminded one of how there was a natural order would always do what it would do and that no human had a right or the ability to interfere. To Paul, it seemed to put all recent events in their proper places.

“Who was on the phone?” Glenda asked as he took his chair beside her.

The porch had a roof over it, so they could sit there and not feel the rain—except for the occasional spray, which was fine with them. One way or the other they could be together there—in hot weather or cold, in fair weather or storm. It was one thing over which they had the final say.

“It was Leonard Raines,” Paul answered. “He wants me to join CSA.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said that I thought it wasn’t the right fit. I said I would consult in the background if the project was the right one.”

“Oh,” Glenda replied, and then she was silent.

Paul sensed that she didn’t like the answer.

“What did you want me to tell him?” he asked.

“It wasn’t that,” Glenda said. “I thought it might have been George Adams calling you.”

“He called me on Wednesday,” Paul informed her. “He asked me to come back. I told him to tell me what I needed to hear and I would be back in the morning. He said he couldn’t and I told him ‘no dice’.”

“Wasn’t there a way…” she began to ask.

“No, it doesn’t look that way.”

Paul saw Glenda bite her lip.

“It was my decision,” he said. “I made it and I’m happy with it.”

Glenda swiveled her head and looked at him. “How can you be happy? If it wasn’t for me and the photos, it would never have come up in the first place. You’d still be in your job—maybe in line to be President of the company.”

“No,” he insisted. “It would have been something else sooner or later.”

“You gave up too much,” she countered.

“No, I was protecting what was most important. I did it for myself. I know that I can look in the mirror and not have to ask myself why I couldn’t do what was right. I’ll always know that I had the guts to stand up to them and not give in or be afraid. That’s what I gained. It was worth the cost.”

“No regrets at all?” Glenda asked.

“No—besides, I’ve got my own company now. I have big plans. I picked up my first client on Thursday.”

“No kidding!” Glenda exclaimed. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s a small company with a chlorine plant in New York State near Lake Ontario. They’ve got themselves into a lot of trouble with the EPA. I’m going to see if I can help them clean things up and get back on track.”

“Doesn’t sound like they pay you much,” Glenda said.

“That’s true,” Paul admitted, “but I don’t care. They can pay something and it will give me a chance to dust off my slide rule after these years behind a desk.”

“Slide rule?” Glenda laughed.

“Well, I meant it figuratively,” Paul laughed back. “Anyway, I said that I was happy with what I decided. You have to be happy with it too.”

He reached over and stroked her back.

“Alright,” she purred. She paused a second and sipped her coffee. “I’ll show you how happy after we finish our coffee.”

************

It was still raining in the early morning and it woke him. Glenda lay atop him. July was just around the corner; the weather had been hot and humid. This rain would break things up. Glenda’s soft, rhythmic breathing let him know that she was still asleep.

While he waited for her to awaken, he thought how close he had been to losing her. Glenda was like few women that he knew. In a moment she could be a buddy in the cabin, laughing, drinking beer and playing cards. She could turn on a dime into a sultry temptress, and she knew just the right moment to do it. She sensed when he wanted a confidant, the moments that he needed solitude and the times when it was time to play. She would never lavish sympathy on him or betray is trust. She would pour out her own troubles to him, because she knew that he needed to take them on as his own.

Little-by-little Paul filled Glenda in on the details surrounding the Peoria Plant and all the players in the episode. It was mostly a sad tale of broken lives, and a few mended ones; of betrayal and disillusionment; of struggle and desperation, and the escape of it. He never allowed her to explain why she had folded under Hopkins’ torment, or run away from him when he wanted so much to help her. If he had listened to her reasons, he would have had to judge them—and her, and he wanted no part of it. They put the year of trial and torment in the past, but not forgotten.

Lost in his analysis of her, Paul failed to notice that Glenda was awake. She nudged him a little to let him know it.

“Time for a morning swim,” she whispered.

“It’s raining,” he answered.

“Are you afraid of getting wet?” she asked. “We’re already dressed for it.”

“I thought that we could stay here a while longer,” he said, pulling her a fraction tighter against himself.

“Get those terrycloth robes out!” she insisted playfully.

“I already did.” Paul answered. “They haven’t been used for over a year, when you were here last time. They’re hanging on the door.”

They strode to the end of the dock where they let the robes slide to the wooden planks. They dove into the lake, one after the other. The water was a little warmer this year. They swam together. As their naked bodies would occasionally slide over one another they let their imaginations run free. They came together in an embrace and held the kiss as they slid under the water’s surface where they broke apart. When they resurfaced he called to her.

“Follow me over here!”

They swam about thirty yards out toward the middle of the lake. Paul stopped and circled a bit and then found what he was looking for. At their distance from shore, the water should have been twelve or fifteen feet deep. Paul’s feet found the rock and he stood on it. The water rose only midway to between his chest and navel.

It was a secret rock, known only to him and Sally—now Glenda. It was a giant, underwater boulder deposited ages before by retreating glaciers. It had been saved there for them to use.

Paul held out his arms; Glenda swam to him. She didn’t hesitate, but wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. He looked into her face and saw eagerness. His gaze drifted lower and he saw the small breasts that she had bared to him in a forest grove decades ago. She pulled him closer to kiss him. He held her to him with one hand and held a breast in the other.

His hardness pressed against her. She reached down to separate her lips and placed him inside. They stayed that way for many minutes, allowing the gentle rocking of the waves to provide all the motion needed to slowly draw their pleasure over them. When they were done, they made their way to the cabin to prepare breakfast.

**********

It had been a year to remember, and a good one to forget. It was lived in the wilderness and in the city. The year brought sorrow and joy. Some lives had been ended, others shattered and a few renewed. There was the joy of discovery and the sorrow of loss. There were battles between good and evil, and neither side won. There had been many defeats.

There was only one victory: life went on for those determined to live it.

THE END

************

Dear Readers,

At long-last “Chance Encounter” has ended. I hope that you enjoyed reading it. As always, I welcome your comments.

There are several characters in the story to whom I am sad to say ‘good bye’. Perhaps they will appear again in the future.

Thanks for reading and best regards,

Autumn Writer