Rod, again - Chapter 13, Dinner

Rod busied himself rinsing the spinach while Cindy set the table. Despite the sound of running water and the clatter of silverware, they attempted to carry on a conversation. Eventually, dinner was ready and Rod and Cindy sat down to a quiet meal. Rod sampled a spinach leaf and sighed with satisfaction. Spinach was a relatively new addition to his diet and he was learning to not just tolerate but enjoy it.

“So, it’s a big day tomorrow,” Rod observed.

“Yeah,” Cindy nodded, pleased that Rod remembered. “One step closer to having the dress!”

Rod smiled. The wedding was really coming together. Cindy was clearly excited and pleased with the plans for her wedding dress and they had a potential solution for the cake. “I think I’ll head over to Nina’s tomorrow,” Rod stated. “See if I can arrange a cake deal.”

Cindy nodded. She wasn’t thrilled with the thought of dealing with Nina, but the cake had tasted delicious.  “I’m sure she’ll be happy for the business.” Cindy noticed that Rod wasn’t paying attention. “Rod, what is it?” she asked.

Rod nodded toward the window. “I think the dude is back and he might have someone else with him. I swear he’s watching us.”

About a week ago, Rod had noticed a man sitting in the dark courtyard, dressed in black. Over the next few nights, he and Cindy would periodically spot the fellow. They’d taken to calling him “the dude” and assumed he was new to the apartment complex. Cindy thought he was probably a poet. Rod felt he was certainly a weirdo.

“A partner? That’s new.” Cindy said, looking toward the window. Mostly she could only see her own reflection. “Turn off the lights, so we can see better.”

Rod pushed back his chair and stood. He stepped over and flipped off the light switch. In the dark apartment their reflections faded and they could the courtyard clearly. Rod looked out just in time to see “the dude” slip around the corner. “I knew he was watching us,” Rod said. “Why else would he choose this moment to run off?”

Cindy frowned as she nibbled on her spinach. The dude was a problem that needed to be solved.

----

Debbie stared at the ceiling of her hotel room and replayed the night's events. She could scarcely believe how bold she'd been. The experience had been exhilarating and mildly terrifying. She was glad she’d done it. Seeing Rod was shocking but at least he didn’t witness her reaction. He looked different and yet familiar. Rod had always been so obsessed with his hair - it was strange to seem him bald. According to Rico, he ate mostly carrots and celery. This was a far cry from the Rod she knew. In many ways, it was a different Rod Piston. It would be weird and awkward to see him again but Debbie felt surprisingly confident about it. As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts turned to Rico. He was cute - just one creepy moustache away from being totally kissable.

Rod, again - Chapter 12, Ninjas in the night

Rico sat nervously and tried to ignore the woman next to him. This day was going from bad to worse. Earlier, Nina had yelled at him when she found out he’d given Chet’s carrot cake to Rod. Even worse, during her tirade she’d referred to the cake as “crap”. This characterization was the last straw for Chet, who overheard from the kitchen. He stormed in, threw his apron in Nina’s face and quit, leaving the job of cook vacant. Nina had sourly filled in for the rest of the day. Rico was glad to leave work but sad about how the days events had unfolded. He’d come to the courtyard with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to find out something useful about Rod’s diet and prove himself to Nina. This new “bench companion” could make his task more difficult.

Rico had only glimpsed at the woman as she passed in front of the bench. Blond hair. Thin. He hadn’t really looked at her but he imagined she was beautiful. She’d only spoken briefly, and in a whisper at that, but her voice was sweet.

Rico continued to look straight ahead, trying to concentrate on Rod's apartment. He could feel beads of sweat forming not just on his forehead but all over his face. One side of his Magnum P.I. Moustache had detached and was sticking out like a caterpillar looking for a fresh leaf to climb onto. Rico lifted a shaky hand to his face and faked a quiet cough as he pressed it firmly against his upper lip.

It looked as if Rod and his girlfriend were sitting down to dinner. Rico slipped his binoculars into his hand, doing his best to conceal them as he pretended to wipe his forehead, all the while stealing a quick glance. Rod was just digging into what appeared to be a spinach salad. Rico was excited - he’d never witnessed Rod eating spinach before. He tucked the binoculars away and opened his notebook, momentarily forgetting about the woman next to him. Slowly, Rico began counting the letters from A to S. Writing “spinach” was going to take some effort.

Debbie tried to focus on the apartment windows but she found herself distracted by the quirky behavior of the man sitting nearby. He seemed nervous and she wondered if she was the cause. In the dim light, even his creepy moustache seemed to be trembling. Every time Debbie tried to turn her attention back to the windows, he did something new and unusual. She wondered if maybe she should just leave. After all, she had a busy day ahead of her tomorrow.

Debbie gazed at the apartment windows, now pretty certain that Rod’s was the leftmost one. She could make out two people moving about, setting a table, preparing food. Neither looked large enough to be Rod, however. The quirky guy was up to something again. Debbie glanced over just in time to see a small pair of binoculars cupped in his hand. He’s spying on them, she thought, how rude. But why would anyone be spying on Rod?

The man stuffed the binoculars into his pocket and opened a notebook. Debbie couldn’t see what he was writing, but he appeared to be having difficulty. Some sort of learning disability, Debbie reasoned. She began to feel sorry for the poor soul. He seemed harmless enough and he was clearly scared. Debbie decided to take a chance.

“Excuse me,” Debbie whispered. The man was so engrossed in his task that he didn’t react. “Excuse me.” Debbie repeated, this time touching his shoulder lightly. The man jumped a little and looked at her with frightened eyes. Debbie smiled reassuring. “Can I help you with that?”

Rico gulped, unsure how to respond. “No.” he whispered hoarsely. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

So proud, Debbie thought. “I’m sure you are,” she said, still smiling.

Rico closed the notebook, too flustered to finish his entry. He’d have to remember that “spi” stood for “spinach”.

“I was wondering,” Debbie continued, “If I might borrow your binoculars. Just for a second?”

Rico considered denying that he had any binoculars. He also thought about running away as fast as he could. Running away, that would be the best plan. But the day had left him tired and this woman’s kind manner was comforting. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the binoculars. “Here,” he said quietly.

“Thanks.”

As Debbie raised the binoculars, she casually asked, “So, what’s your name?”

Rico’s mind raced. Name? What should he tell her? What was a good ninja name? Rico considered a few options and then realized if waited much longer to reply she’d know he was making something up. “Rico,” he uttered, much to his dismay.

“Hi Rico. I’m Debbie” Debbie replied, still looking through the binoculars. She was scanning the window and adjusting the focus, trying to sharpen the image. The man sitting at the table appeared to be bald and thin, nothing at all like Rod. He was looking away from the window though and she couldn’t see his face. Debbie waited, hoping he would turn his head.

“So, “ Debbie began, trying to sound nonchalant. “Why are you so interested in what’s happening in that apartment?”

Rico swallowed. “I-I’m not.” he lied. “I’m, I’m just bird watching.”

Debbie stifled a giggle. The dark barren courtyard seemed an unlikely place for such an activity.  Rico was a poor liar. She liked that about him. Rather than confront him, Debbie chose to ignore his lie. “Are you watching Rod or Cindy?” she asked, still looking through the glasses.

Rico decided it was pointless to continue lying to this woman. She was obviously some sort of super secret agent or something. Rico recalled how silently she had approached the bench. He trembled as he realized he was sitting next to a real ninja. No wonder she was so calm. Fearing for his life, Rico told her everything about his mission, praying she would spare him. It never occurred to him that he could have asked her the same questions.

As Debbie listened to Rico, she wondered how desperate a restaurant would need to be to pursue a single particular customer. The notion was crazy. She was only half-listening until Rico started explaining that Rod used to be larger, “big and stinky” is how Rico put it. Up until that point, she had almost convinced herself that this was a different Rod. She felt her breathing quicken as Rico described the old Rod, the one she’d last seen. The man in the window finally looked her way. There was no denying it, it was the face she remembered from their time together in Minnesota. Debbie gasped and handed the binoculars to Rico. “Thanks,” she said, “I need to leave now.” Debbie got up quickly and hurried out of the courtyard.

Rico glanced at the window as he took the binoculars. Rod was looking toward him and starting to get up from the table. Rico grabbed his things and followed her. When he got to the corner of the building, he looked around but there was no trace of her. Ninja, Rico thought, wistfully.

Rod, again - Chapter 11, Chance encounter

Debbie sighed and surveyed the quiet parking lot. Her eyes drifted to the apartment complex. A nice looking place, she thought to herself. She looked at the main entrance, wondering if Rod was really somewhere beyond it. Recalling Rod’s appearance and odor, she doubted that Cindy was as much a kindred spirit as she had imagined.

Things still didn’t make sense or feel real. It was difficult to imagine obnoxious Rod marrying anyone. Maybe Spencer had type in the wrong name. Or maybe, just maybe, there was another Rod Piston living in Phoenix. Unlikely, but possible, Debbie reasoned.

Thus far, Debbie’s little excursion had gone unnoticed and she knew she should probably leave before that changed. Yet, she remained, staring at that entrance. She imagined herself walking through that door tomorrow. What would she find on the other side? Debbie tentatively opened the car door and stepped outside. After taking a few quick looks around, she walked carefully to the entrance. Just a peek, she thought, to remove some of the mystery.

With a deep breath, Debbie opened the main door to the apartment complex and stepped inside. The door opened onto the side of a hallway which was empty and quiet. The hallway appeared to run for at least twenty yards to her left and went even farther to the right. At the each end, it looked as if the hallway turned. Debbie wondered if the two ends eventually met, forming a giant ring around the apartments. Debbie imagined there must be some sort of inner open space to provide natural light and windows for each unit. Mailboxes were set into the wall directly across from the door. She scanned them until she found Cindy’s. Next to it was Rod’s. After glancing around, she cautiously leaned close to Rod’s mailbox and sniffed it. Nothing unusual.

Above the mailboxes, a set of signs indicated which units were to the left and which were to the right. Debbie began walking quietly to the left, toward Rod’s apartment. She checked apartment numbers as she passed their doors, quickly realizing that Rod lived close to the entrance. As she approached his door, a sense of trepidation overcame her. She had no idea why she was there or what she was hoping to accomplish. Creeping up to the door, she listened intently, hearing only her own, nervous breathing. She tried the sniff test, expecting to pick up some trace of Rod’s pungent aroma. Smelling nothing out of the ordinary, Debbie began to feel a little relief. Maybe this was a different Rod Piston, after all.

Debbie stepped back from the door and turned to leave when she heard the entrance door opening. Fearing it could be Rod or Cindy, Debbie quickly turned away from the entrance and began walking briskly down the hallway. She walked past Rod’s door and Cindy’s door and kept on going, eventually reaching the corner. Debbie couldn’t tell who had come in or if they were following her. She rounded the corner and continued distancing herself from the main door. The hallway she entered was longer than the first and looked like it ended with an exit. Debbie quickened her pace, happy that the hallways did not form one continuous ring. As she neared the exit, she glanced back briefly, relieved to see a long, empty hallway behind her. Debbie slowed her pace and quietly slipped out the exit.

Once outside, Debbie stepped to the side of the doorway and leaned against the building’s adobe siding, taking a deep, relieved breath. A narrow sidewalk ran along the building’s edge. Looking to her left, she could see that the sidewalk opened onto a parking lot, different from the one where she left her car. To the right, the walk continued the length of the building and then seemed to morph from concrete to brick. Debbie recalled her thoughts about an inner open space and reasoned that the brick was part of some sort of courtyard. Curious if she was correct, Debbie started down the sidewalk to take a peek.

The courtyard was big, mostly barren and dimly lit. The brick patterns created obvious walking paths with benches strategically positioned along the way. Debbie looked across the expanse of apartment patio windows, noting that few had curtains. She located the general vicinity of Rod’s window and narrowed it down to one of three. Of the three, two looked into apartments with the lights on, and Debbie could see people moving about. The middle window was dark. Debbie stared at the windows, straining to identify Rod but she was just too far away.

Debbie crept into the courtyard and made her way to a bench near the center. The bench was ideally positioned for observing those windows. She was so focused on the windows that she was almost to the bench before she noticed a man already sitting on it. With a quiet gasp, Debbie stopped short, unsure of her next move. Because she was approaching the bench from behind and to the side, it appeared that he had not noticed her. Debbie observed the man for a moment. He was thin, medium height with dark, shaggy hair. Dressed all in black, he blended into the shadows.

After a moment, the man turned his head just slightly. He kept his eyes focused ahead but that little movement alerted Debbie that he was apparently aware of her presence. Feeling a little foolish, Debbie took a breath and continued walking, past the man and over to the far end of the bench.

“Excuse me,” Debbie whispered. “May I sit here?”

Debbie noticed the man swallow hard as he nodded quickly and wiped sweat from his brow, never making eye contact. His nervous reaction emboldened Debbie and she felt calmer. The man continued to stare ahead, ignoring her. Debbie took the opportunity to steal a sideways glance at the man. Cute, she thought, the moustache was a little creepy, but the rest of him was definitely cute. In the dark, it was difficult to discern the color of his eyes but one thing was certain; he was watching the same windows she was interested in.

Rod, again - Chapter 10, Debbie's drive

Debbie sat down on the edge of the hotel bed and let out a long sigh. The flight to Phoenix had gone smoothly but she felt drained nonetheless. She traced her finger along the bed cover’s floral pattern; orange roses on a brown background. Debbie wondered to herself about the people who designed hotel bed linens. Did they purposefully choose hideous patterns to deter theft, or did they just have really poor taste? The bed was ugly, there was no doubt about it. But, at the moment, Debbie didn’t care.

Even though the dress was technically Spencer’s project, Debbie had thought it best that she be the one to meet Cindy and take her measurements. It was a job that could have been done by any dress shop in town, but Debbie wanted to meet this person who seemed to share her sense of taste. Plus, she wanted the dress to be perfect and that meant a perfect fit.

Debbie had assumed Cindy lived on the East coast, near her parents. When Spencer informed her that Phoenix was the destination, she almost backed out. It was Donna who urged her to go anyway. Phoenix was a big city and this was a chance to prove that she had indeed moved on. She was glad that she had decided to fly in the night before her meeting with Cindy. She needed a chance to relax a little. She was just settling into some reality trash TV when her cell phone chirped. It was Spencer texting her Cindy’s address. Even though she already had it somewhere in the pile of papers in her portfolio, Spencer knew she would prefer to have it on her phone.

Debbie entered the address into the phone’s mapping application and studied the route from the hotel to Cindy’s apartment. She was always a little leery of the router’s accuracy, having been directed the wrong way down a one-way street in the past. She checked the route against a map she’d purchased in the airport and studied it. Everything seemed in order. Debbie texted a thank you to Spencer. Before she could put the phone down, it chirped again. Another message from Spencer.

Spencer’s message was brief: “I almost forgot. Cindy says if she doesn’t answer, try her fiance’s apartment next door. Name Rod Piston”

It took a moment for the message to fully register. Suddenly, Debbie dropped the cell phone on the bed and stared at it as if it had just bitten her. She breathed in short gasps, never letting the air fill her lungs. She was grateful to already be lying down; it saved her the trouble of fainting. She lay there for fully sixty seconds, struggling to slow her breathing and contain her sense of panic. Gradually, she gained some control although she felt like she might vomit any moment.

Debbie stood and tested her balance. She went to the window and opened it, hoping for a fresh breeze. It was early evening and the air still held much of the day's heat. Sadly, no breeze. She needed to get away from the stuffiness of the hotel room. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. Finally, she grabbed her cell phone and purse and left; intent on finding some fresh air.

Without really thinking, Debbie climbed in her rental car and drove out of the hotel parking ramp. With the windows down, Debbie raced along Phoenix’s highways, feeling some relief in the wind blowing through the car. She drove automatically, idly taking exits and corners as if she knew where she was going, unconsciously following the only route that was familiar: the one she had just studied. It wasn’t until she’d entered the parking lot that she realized she'd driven to Cindy’s place. Rod’s place. Debbie pulled into a parking spot in a dark, far corner of the lot and stopped the car. Leaning forward and resting her forehead against the steering wheel, she wondered what cruel twist fate had in store for her next.

Rod, again - Chapter 9, Chet's creation

Rod was going through the mail when Cindy burst into his apartment. He looked up and then watched her as she skipped across the room. Ever since her father called a week ago and told her he’d found a team to design her dress, she’d been smiling. Rod was glad she was happy but he feared that the team might not be up to the task. Plus, there were other issues troubling him. Cindy and her mother had been researching caterers and wedding cakes but Rod’s sensitivity to certain aromas and tastes was making it difficult. He didn’t want to cause trouble and had offered to wear his nose plugs if need be, but Cindy was determined to find someone who could accommodate his special dietary needs. Rod wasn’t certain such a person existed. He tried to push the thought out of his mind and focus on his very happy fiance.

“What’s up?” he asked, as he tossed the cable bill on the table.

“Look at this,” Cindy replied, as she handed him a large envelope. “It’s some drawings from the design team. I don’t know how they put them together so quickly. It’s my dress, only better. Rod, it’s perfect.”

Rod glanced at the contents of the envelope. The drawings did look amazingly similar to what Cindy had in her notebook only with a professional edge. “Wow,” he said. “They must have been working day and night to get these done this quickly. Your dad must have really lit a fire under them.”

Cindy pursed her lips. “I doubt Daddy did any sort of thing. He doesn’t push people around. Whatever the reason, they got the design perfect. Perfect.”

Rod noticed the return address. “Well, here’s the reason,” he said. “They’re from Minnesota - good old-fashioned work ethic. No wonder you like their work. You like anything that’s Minnesota-made.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Cindy played along. “Anything from your home state is golden.”

Rod smiled and then suddenly remembered his earlier thoughts. “I wonder if there are any bakers we could import from up north.” he said, frowning.

Cindy put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about the cake. I’ll figure out something.” Cindy glanced down at the pile of mail on the table. “Hey, what’s that?”

Rod looked at the postcard-size coupon Cindy was picking up. “Oh, that.” he said. “Looks like Nina’s had decided to start sending out coupons. Business must be hurting, they’re practically giving away the food.”

Cindy looked closer at the coupon. “Rod, this isn’t just a general mailing. This card was hand-addressed to you. In fact, it looks like the whole coupon was designed just for you.”

Rod looked at the card more closely. Cindy was right, the coupon did seem too specific. “I guess Nina hasn’t given up on me.” he said. “According to this card, they’ve expanded their menu and added new, healthy choices.”

“I don’t care,” grumbled Cindy. “I don’t like that woman and I don’t like her sending you mail. Maybe we should call the police and tell them she’s harassing you.”

“I think that might be a little much.” Rod stated. “Why don’t I just go over there and ask her to drop it? I’m sure once she realizes I’m not returning, she’ll back off.”

“Okay, but I’m coming along.”

Nina squinted at the plate Chet had placed in front of her. “This is the best you could come up with? Really, Chet, I expected something a bit more exotic from you.”

Chet shrugged. He’d correctly anticipated Nina’s reaction but he was having trouble devising a suitable dish. He shot a glance at Rico, who was trying his best not to make eye contact. Chet looked back at Nina. “What did you expect? Rico didn’t give me much to work with, according to him, the guy mostly just eats carrots.”

Nina looked at Rico. Rico met her gaze and solemnly nodded. Nina snorted and looked back at Chet. “Well, you’re going to have to try harder, Chet.” She pointed at the plate. “This, this will never work in the restaurant. For Pete’s sake, it’s not even deep fried!” Nina took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. “Now, listen, we don’t have much time. I sent some special coupons to Rod. I made them look like a general mailing so he’ll never realize he’s the only one who got them. I’m basically offering him free food and promising a new, exciting, expanded menu. If he shows up, we need to have something to offer him.”

Chet looked incredulously at Nina. “You already sent the coupons out? What if he comes in this afternoon?”

Nina glared at Chet. “You’d better hope he doesn’t.”

Chet turned and stomped back into the kitchen. Nina turned to Rico. “Rico, you’re going to need to step up your efforts - get closer somehow. Find something more for Chet to work with.”

Rico nodded and squinted a little to show his resolve. Closer. He could do that. He would need to switch to extreme ninja. He watched as Nina grabbed her purse and left. She like to be gone before the afternoon rush began. Rico suddenly felt very alone. He knew Chet was upset and would probably sulk in the kitchen for the rest of the night. Rico wasn’t certain if Chet was angry at Nina or him. He was probably mad at both of them.

Rico was so busy trying to devise a way to make Chet and Nina happy that he didn’t immediately notice the small electric car pull up and stop. The slam of a car door brought him back from dreamland. When he saw Rod and his girlfriend walking toward the order window, Rico instinctively reached into his pocket and retrieved his phony moustache. He was about to press it on when he realized that he didn’t need to. He was Rico now, not a Magnum P.I, ninja spy. He returned the moustache to his pocket and tried to look un-ninja-like. He waited for Rod to get to the window. He wished Nina were there, or that Chet would join him.

“Ah, hello there, new customer,” Rico stammered. “Ah, how may I help you?”

Rod read the name tag on Rico’s shirt. “Hi Rico.” Rod said. “I need to talk to Nina is she around?”

Rico gulped. He hadn’t expected Rod to know his name. He could feel sweat forming on his brow. “Sh-she’s not here right now. Gone for the day.”

Rod looked at Cindy and shrugged. Then he looked at the menu board above Rico’s head. Rod glanced back at Cindy and smiled before turning to Rico. “Say,” said Rod, sternly. “I got this coupon in the mail. It says I can try any of the new healthy menu items for free. But your menu looks the same as it always has. Are you running some sort of scam here, offering free stuff that doesn’t exist?”

Cindy stifled a giggle behind Rod. Rico was obviously rattled and seemed to believe that Rod was truly upset.

“N-n-no,” Rico insisted. “We have new items. We just haven’t updated the menu board yet.” Rico smiled weakly, hoping Rod would buy his explanation.

“Okay,” said Rod. “In that case, I’d like to redeem this coupon. Give me something from your new menu.”

Rico gulped and called out to Chet. No answer. Rico was alone. He made a frantic glance around the counter until his eyes rested on the plate Chet had shown Nina earlier. Rico grabbed it. “Here.” he said, thrusting the plate at Rod. “Enjoy your free food.”

Rod was surprised that Rico was able to produce something, given how nervous he’d seemed. Rico turned away from the window and was obviously trying to ignore him, so Rod stepped back and showed the plate to Cindy. He took a careful sniff, fearing the worse. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised. They sat down at a picnic table and stared at the food.

“Well,” said Cindy. “Do we dare try it?”

“I don’t know,” Rod replied. “It smells okay, good actually.” Rod took a small bite and looked up at Cindy. “Oh, you’ve got to try this, it’s good. Really good.”

Cindy took a tentative nibble then followed it with a larger bite. “You’re right. This is really good.”

Cindy paused for a moment and then smiled at Rod. Rod ate a couple more bites before he noticed her staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“Rod,” Cindy exclaimed. “This is it! For our wedding, it’s perfect!”

Rod looked down at the plate. Only a few crumbs of Chet’s carrot cake remained.

Rod, again - Chapter 8, Another dream dress

Debbie Glass looked out her office window and sighed. Twenty floors up, the view was breathtaking, encompassing downtown Minneapolis and the Mississippi River. Yet, Debbie hardly seemed to notice. She was feeling down and uninspired. Ever since Phyllis retired and left her in charge, she’d felt isolated. This was largely due to the fact that she was isolated. Her office was removed from the hustle and bustle of the fashion design team. She spent most of her day studying budget reports and other stale business tasks. Her job had ceased to be fun. She wondered how Phyllis had lasted so long.

There was a knock at her open door as Spencer Connor stepped into her office. Debbie looked up and smiled, happy for the distraction. She and Spencer had worked closely together when she was a designer. When Debbie became president, Spencer was promoted to her old position as lead designer. The company had two design teams, each with a lead. Debbie’s closest friend, Donna, led the other team. Spencer had a bundle of mail in his hand. He often took it upon himself to deliver her mail. It was a convenient excuse for a midday distraction.

“Mail call,” Spencer sang cheerfully.

“Oh joy,” Debbie responded with a hint of sarcasm, “I so love the mail. Is it just bills, or is there some lovely junk mail as well?”

Spencer thumbed quickly through the stack of letters. “Looks like the same old stuff. “ he said. “Wait, here’s one that looks promising.” Spencer handed Debbie a large manila envelope. He put the rest of the mail on her desk.

Debbie looked at the return address; Newman Financial Enterprises. The name wasn’t familiar. She opened the envelope, and pulled out what appeared to be a cover letter. After scanning it quickly, she looked up at Spencer.

“So?” Spencer asked, expectantly. “Exciting news?”

Debbie shrugged. “I don’t know.” she responded. “It’s from the head of some investment firm that apparently worked with Phyllis when she started things years ago. Some guy named Conrad Newman.”

“So, what’s it about? Do we owe him some return on his investment?”

“No. That was all settled years ago. It’s actually a very nice letter. He’s wondering if we could help him with a design project.”

“Oh really?” Spencer moved around the side of the desk to get a peek at the letter. Money matters bored him but he loved design challenges.

“It seems his daughter is getting married and he’d like us to design her wedding dress. I guess she has some idea of what she wants. We’d mostly just be implementing.”

“Oh,” said Spencer, clearly disappointed. “Sounds like busywork. Has she even looked at the lines we have available? Must the princess have something special?”

Debbie glanced at Spencer. “He’s offering us a generous compensation. Plus, we’d have all rights to the design when we’re done. I guess he’s included a sketch of what she wants.” Debbie pulled a second sheet from the envelope. It was a copy of a sheet from a notebook. As she and Spencer studied the paper, Debbie felt her pulse quicken.

“Well,” said Spencer. “A bit vague, isn’t it? How are we supposed to know what she wants based on this? We’d have to be able to read her mind.”

Debbie didn’t respond to Spencer’s comments. As she looked at the sketch and read the comments, she knew exactly what the girl wanted. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and began rummaging around. Spencer stood quietly watching her, wondering what she was up to. Finally, Debbie retrieved a folder and sat up.

“This is what she wants.” Debbie said, handing the folder to Spencer.

Spencer opened the folder and studied its contents. It contained design sketches for a wedding dress. The work was professionally drawn but it bore an uncanny resemblance to the notebook page. “Well, that’s a neat trick,” Spencer commented. “What else do you have in your magic drawer?”

Debbie laughed. “That’s it. I’ve had that design for years. I started it when I was a teenager.” Debbie glanced at the notebook page. “In a notebook, actually.”

“And you never tried developing it beyond the drawing?” Spencer asked.

“I was saving it,” Debbie said, embarrassed. “In case I ever got married.”

Spencer nodded. He could tell Debbie was uncomfortable. “So,” he said gently. “What do you want to do?”

Debbie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I think it’s time to let go of old dreams. Take the folder, Spencer, and the Newman sketch. Put something together. I’ll contact Mr. Newman and tell him we’re on board.”

Spencer slipped the Newman envelope into the folder and left the office. Debbie turned and looked out the window. She understood Mr. Newman’s daughter. For a long time, she had dreamed of the dress she would wear for her wedding. It was eerie that the two designs were so similar but that only reinforced Debbie’s belief that the dress was perfect. She remembered when she started the first sketch back in high school. It was an idle distraction during a boring history class. Over the years, she’d picked it up from time to time and refined it. There was only one brief time in her life when she thought she might get married.

Debbie thought about her only serious long term relationship. She’d been happy with Rod at the time. But, then he left. She recalled the fiasco that occurred when she’d visited him in Phoenix. She still felt bad about leaving his cell phone in a dead raccoon, even if he did deserve it. Donna had encouraged her to unfriend him in Facebook and move on. Debbie had moved on, but she still wondered about Rod sometimes. There was a time when she thought he’d be the one to marry her in that dress.

Debbie shook herself out of her funk and looked for the number for Conrad Newman. She realized that Spencer had taken all the paperwork with him. She called Spencer’s extension and asked him to call Mr. Newman and let him know they would have a design proposal ready soon.

Debbie relaxed in her chair. It felt good to get the dress out of her secret folder. It was a good design and it was silly to hoard it. Let some other couple enjoy it. She knew Mr. Newman’s daughter would love it, they obviously had similar tastes. She hoped the groom could appreciate the magic of it as well.

March Madness

March stomps in with heavy boots,
Leaving a trail of wet, dirty snow across my floor.
Never invited, March comes anyway,
Into my house, my home.
With heavy footsteps echoing on the hardwood,
March follows me from room to room,
Waiting to be acknowledged.
I pretend not to notice.
But March is patient,
Everywhere I go, March is there,
Waiting.
Demanding I receive its memories.

Rod, again - Chapter 7, Rico the ninja

Ninja time. Rico smiled as he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. I am a ninja, he thought proudly. He practiced tip-toeing across his bedroom in his black Puma sneakers. A flash of white between his shoes and the bottom of his black Levis caught his eye. Rico froze and slowly took another step. Another flash. He groaned and pulled up his pant leg, revealing a bright white sweat sock. Rico rummage through his bureau until he found a black pair. Just to be safe, he grabbed a pair of black underwear as well. It was hard work, being a ninja.

Rico was pleased with the outfit he had assembled. He’d already owned most of the items - his biggest expense was a long sleeve black t-shirt. The most difficult item to find was a suitable covering for his head. He’d looked for days for a black ski mask stocking cap. Unfortunately, stocking caps of any color seemed to be in short supply in Phoenix. After much searching, he happened upon a navy blue one at a second-hand store. Technically, it was a sized for a child but Rico felt the snug fit actually looked a bit more ninja-ish.

Rico had been watching Rod’s apartment for a few days and had learned a few things. He learned that dressing entirely in black and sitting for hours in the Arizona sun put one at risk for heat stroke. He learned that the ski mask should only be donned after dark and then only if you are hiding in the shadows. In any other situation, it actually draws unwanted attention. Regrettably, Rico accepted that he may not be able to use the cap much for this ‘mission’.

Rico found that his best surveillance was obtained by sitting on a bench in the inner courtyard of the apartment complex. The complex was built like a horseshoe and all units had patio doors opening onto the courtyard. The courtyard itself was mostly stone inlaid in a pattern mildly reminiscent of an Aztec depiction of the sun. Benches lined pathways that led to the center of the courtyard. At the center of the courtyard there was a plain, circular, concrete slab approximately five feet in diameter. The original plans had included a fountain in this space, but the owner had decided to cut this expense until after the complex started generating revenue. Later, the owner realized that residents rarely used the courtyard and no one was clamoring for a fountain so the idea was shelved.

Rico’s favorite bench was near the center slab. Sitting there, he faced Rod’s patio window. The courtyard was poorly lit and large enough that Rico felt it was unlikely Rod would notice him after dark. There were, however, a few residents who occasionally peeked out and glanced his way. Because of this, Rico kept the cap in his pocket and pretended to be a fellow resident, enjoying the outdoors. He carried a small notebook for recording his observations. To the casual observer he might have been confused with an eccentric poet or novelist. On the off chance that Rod might recognize him from the shop, Rico had disguised himself with a ‘Magnum P.I.’ fake moustache purchased from a local novelty store. Rico like the moustache and wished he could grow a real one so thick - his many attempts always left him disappointed.

Along with the notebook, Rico carried a tiny pair of binoculars. When he noticed Rod moving about the apartment, he would slip the binoculars into his hand and casually sneak a peek while pretending to wipe his brow. Occasionally, he would catch Rod and his girlfriend eating but it was difficult to identify the food. They seemed to cook all their meals from scratch - Rico had yet to witness a prepackaged item or take-out container. It was still hard for Rico to believe that this was the same guy who had stunk up the drive-through buying Nina’s frybread for years.

Thus far, Rico had not learned a great deal about what Rod ate. The man consumed a lot of carrots, but that was already known. Celery was also eaten regularly along with grapes and apples. Rico dutifully noted every item along with the date, time and approximate quantity. Just to be safe (and because it made him feel like a secret agent) he wrote everything in code. It was a simple code, substituting  numbers for letters; 1 for A, 2 for B and so forth. The process was tedious but Rico stuck to it. When Rico recorded the quantities, he just wrote the number, never realizing that it was impossible to distinguish it from an encoded letter. It didn’t matter. Rod’s diet was so limited that Rico had it memorized and never referred to his notes when reporting to Nina and Chet.

Rod, again - Chapter 6, The dream dress

Cindy was giddy as Rod drove back to the apartment. She hadn't stopped talking since she'd agreed to marry him. Her monologue jumped from topic to topic, all wedding related. Sometimes, she would start a subject, change course for a side note, and return to complete the original thought. Rod made no attempt to join in the conversation, treating any questions she posed as rhetorical. Cindy knew Rod was amused by her behavior but she didn't care. At some point during the ride her mother called. Cindy delivered the news and found her mother much more receptive to her babbling. Rod could hear enough of their conversation to sense that mother and daughter were both operating at the same fevered pitch. They were still talking as he pulled into the apartment parking lot. No longer focused on driving, Rod tried to pay better attention to the conversation. Rod guessed that the discussion was about wedding dresses. It sounded like Cindy had some very specific ideas. Finally, Cindy ended the call with her mother. She looked around, suddenly aware that the car was parked. Rod smiled at her as they got out of the car.

"So, how's your mother?" Rod asked, wryly.

"Oh, you know, she's okay." Cindy deadpanned. Then, grinning, she added, "I think she's pretty excited!"

As they walked into Rod's apartment, Cindy relayed the gist of her telephone conversation. Always one to be prepared, her mother had been maintaining a potential guest list for years. She had also researched the local banquet halls. Cindy assured Rod that nothing was set in stone and that her mother was only trying to be helpful. Already, Cindy noted, she had told her mother that the wedding would likely be in Phoenix, not back in her home town. Rod worried that he would be blamed for the choice of venue but Cindy claimed she had been very clear with her mother that the decision was hers. Rod wished he had paid closer attention to the conversation. All he could remember was that they talked a little about dresses. For now, he decided to relax and enjoy the moment. He didn't know Cindy's parents but they couldn't be all that bad; they'd raised a wonderful daughter.

"So, it's sounds like you have an idea of what kind of dress you want," Rod said casually.

"I don't just have an idea," Cindy said, smiling. "I know exactly what dress I want."

"Wow," replied Rod. "Where did you see it?"

"Wait a sec and I’ll show you." Cindy answered as she ran out of the apartment. She returned a few minutes later holding a worn notebook. She opened it to a dog-eared page and handed it to Rod. "Here," she said. "Take a look."

Rod took the notebook. On the page was a sketch of a wedding dress. It was done in pencil and the eraser marks indicated it had undergone some redesign. Next to the dress were some general notes about how the dress should 'flow freely' and 'not be too tight here'. Another note cautioned about not being too ‘old lady’.

"You drew this?" he said, at last.

Cindy nodded. "I started it when I was fifteen. Over the years I've made some little changes, but now I think the general idea is perfect, or at least close. I'm no designer, so I don't even know if it's possible to make this dress. But, this is the one I've dreamed of."

Rod looked at the drawing again. "So what do you do now?"

"Well," said Cindy. "Now, I make a copy of this page and send it to Daddy. Mother said he may know someone who can turn it into an actual dress."

"Your dad knows dress makers?" Rod was surprised.

Cindy chuckled. It did sound funny. "Daddy invests in all sorts of companies, including some clothing designers. Mother thought they might be able to help."

Rod began to suspect that Cindy's father was more influential than he had realized.