Rooms - James L. Rubart [17]
“Hey, Rick! I’ve got a car mystery for you. Mine gained sixteen thousand miles overnight. That possible without someone messing with it manually?”
Rick’s eyes shifted from playful to serious. Intense. A moment later they shifted back. “It’s rare, but yes, I’ve seen it happen.”
“What’s the cause? Bad odometer?”
“A much deeper issue than that.” Rick turned to walk away. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, and I’ll have a chance to explain it.”
CHAPTER 7
Micah arrived at RimSoft early Monday morning with Rick’s enigmatic response still swirling through his mind. Deeper issues? With a car? Explain it when? Maybe next weekend he’d try to find Rick’s station and get an answer.
Micah pushed the mystery out of his mind for the moment and booted up his computer. Getting to work at five o’clock meant he could get a majority of his work for the week finished before the inevitable fires started.
By the time Shannon arrived at eight, he’d plowed through all of his work slated for Monday and Tuesday.
He stretched, stood, and strolled over to his window to watch gray clouds roll in, painting a dreary ceiling for the ferryboats chugging across Puget Sound.
He returned to his desk. Next on his to-do list: Call Rafi Cushman about the phone system. After twenty seconds of listening to an instrumental song that should have been shot, Rafi came on the line.
“Hi, Rafi, Micah Taylor. Wanted to follow up on our talk at J. B. Olson’s party two weeks back.”
“Uh, I remember John having a party, but I don’t remember meeting you, Micah. I mean, I know who you are, of course, but—”
“We talked about both graduating from UDub the same year. And we both played Les Paul guitars back in high school.” Micah whistled inwardly. Did the guy want RimSoft’s business or not? He should have had Shannon call him. This was a waste of time.
“Wow, sorry, it’s just not clicking for me. You’re sure it was me?”
“You probably met a lot of people. I just wanted to see your proposal for a new phone system.”
“Sure, I’d love to develop a plan for you.”
Micah wrapped up the conversation and shook his head. Unbelievable. The guy couldn’t remember a conversation from two weeks ago that could result in a sizable account. Must have been drunk.
By the time six o’clock rolled around on Wednesday evening, the week was wrapped, delivered, and under control, so he left for the beach a day early.
||||||||
Thursday the sound of the surf woke him at seven-thirty. He rolled out of bed, grabbed coffee, and took a long look at the waves as they tossed milk-bubble foam up on the beach.
After firing up his laptop and checking RimSoft’s stock price, he pulled up his e-mail and breezed through fifty of them in half an hour. Then he answered Julie’s three e-mails. Done in two minutes. He probably should have taken more time, but he signed each one with “I love you.” He hoped that would be enough but knew it wasn’t.
After checking ESPN for anything interesting, Micah headed into town for groceries. He glanced at his fuel gage. Almost empty. Perfect excuse to stop by Rick’s gas station to pick up on last week’s conversation.
Rick’s Gas & Garage stood out in forest green letters on top of a building that looked its age, even with the fresh coat of paint, which tried in vain to hide decades of soggy Oregon Coast winters.
He got out of his BMW and watched a towheaded kid, who couldn’t have been over five foot two, pump his gas.
Micah wandered into the garage and found Rick underneath a late-model Lexus. Before he could say hello, Rick rolled out from under it and announced to the vehicle in his deep baritone, “Done with you forever.”
Micah started to reintroduce himself. “Hey, Rick, we met last—”
“Great surprise to see you, Micah!” Rick sat up with a grin. “What are you doing right now?”
“Right now?”
“Yep, right now.” Rick yanked a clean rag from his back pocket and wiped the oil from his hands.
“Grocery shopping.”
“Starting or finishing?