“Whoa!” Loreen exclaimed when Lisa opened the r door, racket in hand like sabre.
“It’s me, what’s with the racket action?”
Lisa felt foolish. “I’m sorry, Lor’. I’ve just couped up here writing.”
“Ooh, whatcha writing? Is it your memoir?”
“Something like that. Come in. Come in.”
“Thank you,” replied Loreen. She smelled the sage in the air mixed with lavendar. Lisa tried to calm herself with aromatherapy to no avail.
“What’s up? What broke you away from your guns, cars, and husband?”
“I wanted to talk to you about a talk. Paul won’t be in town and we can split it fifty-fifty. It’s for fifty million dollars each.”
Lisa’s eyes turned to saucers.
“Wow,” Lisa noted. She had not noticed she still grasped the tennis racket. When she laid it down, she sat slowly and contemplated.
“Yes, so brush up on your Delaware business history. It’s being sponsored by the First State Entrepreneurship Heritage.”
“I know them. You’re right. They’re huge history buffs.”
Loreen looked at Lisa’s face. The integration of what she conveyed in her expressions made Loreen ask, “All is well, no?”
“All is well. I just spooked sometimes living in this cocoon. It’s beautiful, spacious. But I sometimes have to break out of here just for a run or coffee.”
“If there’s no issue, I will not pry, but if something is going on, please tell me. I can direct—”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Okay. I can show you how to obtain a license for a firearm if that’s what you’re worried about,” Loreen mentioned.
“It’s not that. Look, I’m great, nothing's going go keep me from plowing ahead.”
Loreen almost cheered. She relished the fact her partner had been able to amass a small fortune kust based on effort and determination.
“I’ll leave now.”
“Take care.”
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Skyler Saunders
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