Chapter 20

One Saturday in April, both Bill and Junior went shopping. It was a common occurrence and they would do the dry goods shopping first, leaving the groceries to the end. As they drove toward town, Bill pulled into the lot of a major Ford dealer who just happened to be a client of CSI. At first, Junior was surprised and wondered why they were stopping here. When his father pulled up to the showroom parking area, Junior climbed out and followed his father into the big display area.

As Bill and Junior walked into the showroom, they were approached by a middle-aged woman wearing a badge with the name "Clarissa" and "Customer Assistant" printed on it.

"Can I help you?" she asked the elder Orton.

"Yes, I'm looking for Don Stephens. Is he in?"

"Just a moment," she smiled. "I'll get him for you." With that, she turned and strode to the row of offices along the back wall of the room.

Junior was nervously watching this, wondering if this was his big moment. Why else would they be at a car dealership, he asked himself?

Another middle-aged man appeared and walked briskly toward them with a big smile on his face.

"Hi, Bill, good to see you. And this must be Bill Junior," he said in his best salesman's voice.

"Yep. Your boss said you could help us find a vehicle for my son. He thinks he needs one," Bill laughed.

Junior almost exploded on the spot. On the outside, he had let go a big whoosh of air as he had been holding his breath in anticipation. On the inside, he was jumping and high-fiving and shouting all manner of whoops of joy. His big day had come.

"Sure. I guess we should start with what kind of car or truck he had in mind."

"Good question? Anything reasonable except a Mustang," he said with a stern look at Junior.

Junior was not going to be unhappy. He was just grateful he was getting some "wheels" and would be mobile at last. "Uh ... Dad ... uhmmm ... I was thinking maybe about ... like ... a pickup?" It was a pretty tentative stab at what he was hoping for, but he began to relax when he saw the nod his father gave him.

"Well, that's OK, I guess. That was my first set of wheels too," he said, thinking of the little red truck from twenty-plus years ago.

"Well, we have a good selection, but I've got a couple of almost new ones on the used lot that are on special this week. Why don't we go have a look," the salesman said, pointing to the lot adjacent to the showroom. The three walked over to the used car area and Junior was shown two very shiny, well cared for mid-sized trucks. One of them was in red and Bill Senior had a flashback as he noticed the shell on the box.

"These were returned early from a lease when the company went under. We can make you a really good deal on them." It was the old familiar line from every car salesman's repertoire. Senior turned to Junior and looked for a reaction. Junior had his eyes fixed on the red one and he was busy opening the door to see what the options were. It was a V6, with a standard transmission and rear wheel drive. It was about as conventional as you could get.

There really wasn't any bargaining. Junior had found what he wanted almost immediately, and Dad was just along to endorse the purchase and pay the invoice. Senior smiled, thinking his son had grown up quicker than he had realized, and was probably more mature than a lot of his fellow sixteen-year-olds. An hour later, Junior proudly and carefully guided his "new wheels" off the lot under the smiling gaze of his father, and made a beeline for his best friend's house. It was time to show the "gang" his machine.

Bill walked into the dealership once more and sought out his friend and business associate, Ken Lee. Ken and Bill had met at the Chamber of Commerce meetings and Bill had taken an immediate liking to the affable young man of Chinese ancestry. He had inherited the dealership from his mother's side of the family, and his straightforward business style and reputation for honesty had helped the Ford dealership thrive.

"Hi, Bill," came the familiar voice and Ken came down the stairs from the upper office. "Did you find something for Junior?"

"Yah ... I don't think it took five minutes and he had his eyes on a red pickup. Don looked after it just fine."

"Great, I'm glad. Now you just have to hope he'll drive it responsibly," Ken grinned. They had both talked about their fears of kids with cars showing off to their friends and getting themselves in dangerous situations. Ken's daughter was almost eighteen, and she had already had an accident that could have been prevented. It had taught her an immediate lesson and she had quickly changed her driving habits.

"Well, I just have to hope that Junior is as mature as I think he is," Bill said with a concerned look.

They chatted together for a few minutes and then parted. As Bill turned to go, he caught a glimpse of someone. It was a familiar face; a face from a long time ago. For a moment, he couldn't be sure it was her. He stood gazing at her, and then, his mind made up, he began to walk toward her.

Zena Wildman was studying something on a chart she was holding, and hadn't looked up until Bill was almost in front of her. When she finally became aware of someone approaching her, she lifted her head and automatically smiled. The smile lasted for about one second when recognition took over and her jaw dropped and her face now registered surprise.

"Bill ... is that you?" she asked in genuine shock. They stood in front of each other, looking intently without moving until Bill's face cracked into a big smile.