Love Story: In The Web of Life by Ken Renshaw Read Free Book Online Page A

that were unknown a couple of years
before."
    "Good!" said Dore. "Would you be available to
come to Palo Alto today to meet with Mr. Colson? He is to leave
town tomorrow and is anxious for you to get started. We can have
you back later in the day."
    "Of course" I said, thinking of how I dread
going through airport security twice in one day.
    "Thank you Phil," Said Dore as she shook Phil's
hand, "I have confidence that we have made the right choice in
asking your firm to represent us. Mr. Willard, the travel
arrangements are all set."
    "Thank you for selecting Bracken and Stevens to
represent you in this matter," added Phil.
    "I'll get my briefcase," I said.
    I waved at Zaza on the way out. "I am going to
Palo Alto–be back tomorrow."
    Zaza couldn’t resist: "She is a hot one-I saw
her when she came in. What is Flopsy going to think?"
    "I'll see you tomorrow," I replied, playing it
straight as always.
    Dore was in the lobby texting. We took the
elevator to the ground floor and got into a black chauffeured Towne
Car, which was waiting at the building entrance.
    "Excuse me I have to check in," Dore said, and
began texting on her Blackberry.
    I followed suit.
    I was surprised when the driver turned north on
the 405 instead of south to LAX. I didn't say anything.
    In a while, we were at the Van Nuys airport,
and the driver drove to a hanger in front of which was parked a
Lear jet. A lean uniformed pilot, surfer-length blond hair sticking
out below his navy–blue pilot's cap, was standing by the steps into
the airplane. He took the small suitcase of Dore's that the driver
brought as we boarded the plane. I looked into the cockpit as we
entered and saw a young blond lady, also in uniform with pilot's
cap, apparently going through the preflight checklist.
    The jet had six brown leather seats, two in the
back and two pairs facing each other separated by the aisle. The
airplane smelled like leather with a slight hint of jet fumes from
outside.
    Dore motioned to one of the two brown leather
seats that faced each other with a small table between
them.
    "Thanks, Ms. Hamilton," I said.
    I sat down, and we both fastened our seat belts
as the jet began to taxi.
    She smiled and said, "Make it Dore. I think we
are going to spending a lot of time together."
    "Dave," I replied with a nod.
    We both looked out the window as the jet paused
before entering the runway and began the takeoff roll.
    "My parents gave me the name Doré, with the
accent on the 'é' but I dropped it for everyone's convenience," she
continued. "Dave, you have quite a spring tan for a person with
your light completion. Are you a golfer?"
    "No," I replied, "I spend a lot of time on the
desert. I have a sailplane."
    "One of those things where they tow you up in
the air and then you glide down?" she asked.
    "Yes, but sometimes we stay up for hours and
fly cross-country. It is quite a sport." I added.
    Dore stared at me for a second and then added,
"I get that there is something competitive about that."
    "Not really, it is something you do alone," I
replied.
    Dore stared at me again and then continued,
"When you were in college there was something competitive. You are
five–feet, seven–inches, and weighed something like one hundred
sixty when you were in college. It was not football of any other
team sport. Something competitive there...tennis. That is why you
handle your briefcase the way you do."
    I was shocked and answered, "Right! I was a
Varsity tennis player.
    "You will have to tell me about it sometime,"
she said without any indication of interest. "Please excuse my
delving into your past. The energy was strong, hard to
resist."
    "Your tan looks like someone who has just been
skiing." I observed.
    "Right, very observant," she replied. "My
partner and I were in Aspen for a week not long ago."
    'My partner, ' I thought, 'She might be
gay.'
    "Her company has a condo there so it is very
convenient," she replied.
    I felt a sense of relief that she was setting
some ground