she felt an acute kinship with that character and decided her discarded penny just might know more than she did about her life’s choices.
She picked it up, turned it over in her hand and stared down at old Abe Lincoln’s coppery visage. Above his head were words she’d seen all her life and never really read. In God we trust.
Cassidy wondered suddenly if there was a God. She remembered vaguely her parents talking about Him. But God hadn’t been part of her upbringing under her grandfather’s rule. Recalling her father’s calm, easy smile, she wondered if maybe that was part of her problem. She flipped the coin. Caught it. Slapped it down on the back of her hand. “If You’re up there, God, send me where I need to go. Heads north, tails south,” she called, then peeked. Honest Abe stared up at her again. “North,” she said, then wondered once again if she or some higher power had control of her destiny.
Winston Jamison turned from the window that looked out over Rittenhouse Square when a sharp knock echoed through his office door. “Come,” he called.
His longtime secretary walked in and as far as his desk. She stood, arms crossed, and glared at him. “She hasn’t answered her pages or her cell phone. I’ve tried her apartment. No go there, either.”
“Where could she have gone?”
“Well, I doubt she went to cry on a friend’s shoulder. Thanks to her hours these last several years, she hasn’t got any close friends.”
Rose had been with him for years. He’d kept her with generous raises and stock options. He’d kept her because he couldn’t intimidate her. But just now, he wished he’d fired her thirty years ago at the first sign of insubordination. He scowled, knowing it wouldn’t cow her in the least. “I’m sure there’s a saltshaker in that credenza over there. Care to throw some into the wound?”
She tapped her foot and moved her hands to her ample hips. “Don’t think I’m not tempted. Why on earth did you do it?”
“I didn’t have a choice. The job would have been too much for her. I did it for her own good.”
“You told her the vice presidency was hers. You told me it was hers. Why the last-minute change? I’ve never known you to vacillate like this.”
“I was trying to save her from herself. And from me. I love that girl, Rose. This place is dragging her down. The circles under her eyes have circles.”
“So this was for her own good? That child was in tears! I’ve never seen her cry in all the years I’ve known her!”
He winced. “I was wrong to insist she come in to the business. I’m trying to right a wrong.”
“Oh? Now you see it, when you managed to ignore a double major and her real talent? What, pray tell, caused this sudden revelation?”
He knew he deserved her scorn, but he felt the need to squirm and didn’t like it in the least! Instead he walked to his desk and sat in his big leather chair. “I overheard a conversation she had with her doctor last week. She has an ulcer, Rose. And it’s my fault.”
She sat in the chair where Cassidy had been sitting just a few hours earlier. “But to pull the rug out from under her like that was cruel.”
“It was a last-minute decision. I just couldn’t let her take on more. But I intended to explain. I really did. But she started shouting. Then I did. I lost sight of what I wanted to say and defended my choice instead. Before I knew it, she was storming out. By the time I calmed down enough to realize what had happened, she was gone.”
Rose shook her head in disgust. “For your sake, I hope she isn’t gone for good.”
“You know, Rose, if I knew where she was, that would be okay with me. Just so she’s happy.”
Dusk had just settled into darkness when the six-lane interstate Cassidy was traveling narrowed rather abruptly to one lane in each direction. She drove about ten miles farther, getting anxious about the denseness of the timberland that now surrounded her.
When the Pocono Mountains had loomed ahead of her at the Lehigh Tunnel, she’d gotten excited about the possibilities they held. She’d decided to really cut loose on this vacation and pick up a sketch pad and some charcoal. Since then, she’d seen numerous valleys and stark slopes of bare deciduous trees dotted with deep green pines that she itched to sketch.
But when that vast expanse of trees had formed a dark, oppressive tunnel with no evidence of a town or resort anywhere, the countryside had become frightening. Then, just as she decided to turn around because civilization had not made its presence known, the car that had been her stalwart companion for nearly five hours suddenly coughed and bucked as she crested a hill. It settled down again when she pressed a little harder on the accelerator, but whenever she slowed down to stop and turn around, it nearly stalled.
Cassidy was left with a dilemma: she had to continue on or risk getting stuck right there, which she feared was miles from nowhere. Just the thought of breaking down amidst the darkness and thick woodlands turned up the acidic burning in her stomach another notch. The pounding in her head seemed to turn up its volume by a hundred decibels, as well.
Several hundred yards farther down the road, a sign proclaimed that the town of Mountain View, Pennsylvania, population three hundred, was only a couple of miles ahead. Reassured, she had traveled on about a mile before the car bucked again.
Cassidy could just see the tiny town, a few lights winking in the distance, when the car stalled for the first time. She got it started, but several hundred yards farther down the road it coughed again and stalled. After several tries it did turn over, but continued to buck and cough as she lumbered down the road. She barely was able to limp the car into Earl’s Car Emporium in the center of town. No sooner had she pulled to a stop than the engine died.
Cassidy would have felt more confident in Earl’s had the weathered wood and faded sign looked the way they did for quaint effect rather than from years of neglect and aging. She got out to look around. Rusting and greasy car parts overflowed several fifty-five gallon drums next to the rustic building. The sound of country music, a metallic pounding and the odd grumble, floated out of a crooked doorway in what she thought was a converted barn.
The disgruntled voice was not reassuring.
“Mr. Earl?” Cassie called over the music as she gingerly pushed open the door. “Hello. Could someone help me?”
“Eh? What’s that?” a gravelly voice called. “Oh, well, hey there, girly. What can I help you with? Directions to Appleton?”
“Actually, my car’s acting up.”
Cassidy watched as a man in a greasy hat peered over the lifted hood of a car. When the mechanic came out from behind his current project, she remembered her grandfather describing someone as a long drink of water, and knew the description fit Mister—.
“Mister Earl?” she asked, and hoped he was better at his work than he was at keeping clean. Cassidy pulled off the glasses she only wore for driving and perched them on top of her blond head.
The man’s pale blue eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile that he didn’t betray with his mouth. “Just Earl. Earl Pedmont,” he said, and offered her his hand.
Cassidy automatically reached out to shake it. But Earl only awkwardly
