Chapter 4

There was nothing for him to do. Sure, he could go for a run, which he did almost every morning. He ran the nearly five miles of beach to its end in North Wildwood and turned around and ran back to the Coast Guard Station and then back to the condo. When it was needed, which wasn’t very often, he cleaned the condo. There was no mail to speak of; his publishing company had all but written him off as a burned out author. He had used the last of his inventory of unpublished works over a year ago. They had sent him a new contract to sign requiring him to write one novel a year for the next three years; it was still on his office desk, unsigned.

Kristin’s returns home were the only bright spot in his life of darkness. It had been four years since she first went away to school. She had done exceptionally well. Now she was starting her Master’s program and had already completed some graduate courses. She had also met a young man and they were already making plans for their future lives together. Jim was both happy for her and more deeply depressed than ever; he was losing his little girl.

“Dad, I’m worried about you. It’s been nearly five years since Mom died. You have to find someone to share your life with; you’re too young to be alone for the rest of your life.”

“I know; but it’s hard to let go. She was everything to me”

“And what about your writing? Have you written anything since Mom is gone?”

“I’ve started several books since you’ve been gone, but I just can’t seem to finish them. I could always turn to your mother when I was stuck. She would be my sounding-board, my guide; she’d keep me on the right path. She was my muse.”

“Then you need to find someone to fill that void. Maybe you could advertise for an editor, someone to come here and work with you. You know, I could help you with that. I’ll send out some inquiries on-line, review resumes, and set up interviews.”

“I don’t know...”

“I’ve already got one interview scheduled for next Friday, with a woman named Ann Edwards. I’m sorry I can’t be here, but I have to get back to school. She’s got her BA degree in English from Princeton and she’s currently employed at Simon & Schuster in New York. She’ll be here at noon; she’ll meet you in the coffee shop downstairs.”

Jim was seated in one of the booths; he had an unobstructed view of the front door. It was, by his watch 11:59, when a tall, good looking, brunette walked through the door. She looked around and, seeing him, turned and walked his way. As she approached, Jim stood and extended his hand. He almost withdrew his hand when he realized who she was.

“Hello, Mr. Stafford; it’s good to see you again. I’m sorry for the deception. It was Kristin’s idea; she felt you’d never agree to see me if you knew it was me.”

“Hello Tiffany; I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed your look; much more mature and business-like. Dialed back a notch; I like it. How have you been? How are your parents; are they well?”

“My mother is doing well; she said to give you her best regards. We lost my Dad about a year ago; I guess Kristin never told you.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that; my belated sympathies to both of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you like coffee, or something else to drink? I’m afraid this being the middle of winter, they have a very limited menu.”

“Just coffee, thanks.”

Jim got up, grabbed two mugs, and poured a cup for each of them. The locals knew it was faster than waiting for the owner.

After accepting the coffee and pouring in a little milk, she began to speak.

“Mr. Stafford...”

“Please, call me Jim.”

“Jim, I want to thank you for seeing me. I didn’t bring a copy of my resume because truthfully, there’s not much on it that you don’t already know. I graduated with honors from Princeton with a major in English Lit. After graduation, I started work with Simon and Schuster in New York City. I’m a junior editor, which means I’m one of many who get the first look at unsolicited manuscripts. I enjoy the work, and I’ve learned a lot, but the commute is killing me. Two hours each way by train, if everything goes well, which almost never happens. I could move to the City, but I don’t want to, that’s not me. I grew up on what was once a horse farm. We have ten acres of rolling hills and white fences.”

“Should I call you, Tiffany or Ann,” he asked?

“Which ever you feel comfortable with; I use Ann at work because it sounds more professional; it’s my middle name.”

“I knew you as Tiffany for almost five years, so I’ll stick with that. Tiffany, do you think you could feel comfortable working here with me? The job would involve editing my work, making suggestions and changes to story-lines and when needed, research. I’m afraid there may be a lot of down time, because right now I’m in the midst of a rather long dry spell. The other thing is that there is not much room for advancement.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’m sure I’ll love working with you.”

“Well, we still haven’t talked about compensation.

“Compensation won’t be a problem, either. You see my Dad did very well for himself when he worked on Wall Street. When he died my Mother was well taken care of, and he also set up a large trust fund for me, to which I now have access. Mom’s talking about selling the house and moving out west.”

“And what are you going to do then?”

“Mist ... I mean Jim; I have a proposal for you. What if, instead of compensation, you just gave me room and board? I could stay in the guest room. You won’t have to pay me any spending money; I have plenty of that. This way I could always be available to do anything you needed to be done.”

“Tiffany, I’m not sure how appropriate that would be. What would people think? What would Kristin think? What would your mother think?””

“Kristin’s not a problem; she’s the one who suggested it. Besides we’re practically sisters anyway, so that would make me almost like your daughter.”

She could see that Jim was still on the fence over this.

“I promise to be good. I know you heard us talking on the balcony that night. I knew you were there and I wanted to tease you a little. I thought Faith was going to have heart failure when I told her I was going to seduce you that weekend. It was just a childish prank. But most of what I said was true.”

Jim didn’t know what to say. He certainly could use the company. Maybe that was what he needed to start writing again. His defenses were crumbling. Finally, he gave in.

“Alright, we’ll do this on a trial basis. You’ll move into the spare bedroom and I’ll treat you like my own daughter. When I need your help I’ll ask for it; either to edit what I’ve written or to just talk out plot lines or character motivations, stuff like that. You can have the weekends free. We’ll either go out to dinner or we’ll bring food in, I don’t expect you to cook or clean; and at night, you will stay on your side and I’ll stay on my side of the condo. Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal.”

“When do you want to pick up you clothes and whatever else you need from your house?”

“No need; I have everything I need in the backseat and trunk of my car.”

“I guess I never really had much of a choice about this, did I? Wait until I talk to Kristin.”

After three trips up and down from her car to the condo and back, they had all of her things in the guest room.

“It’s a good thing I cut back on a lot of my clothes and shoes, or we’d still be at it,” she said as she started arranging things in the closet. Soon, she was all settled in. Jim didn’t know what to do; he thought he should leave her and let her settle in. But that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He hadn’t realized just how alone he had been; now he craved her company.

“I’ll let you relax and get used to being here.”

Jim returned to his side, but he didn’t close the door. It was nice having her there.

Later that night, after they had returned from dinner, Jim wished her a good night, but this time he closed the door and locked it. He wasn’t taking any chances. Then, before he got ready for bed, he called his daughter.

“You fink; you set me up, didn’t you?”

“She’s just what you need,” Kristen said laughing. “Someone to be there with you, interact with you; and maybe someday, who knows what will happen. She’s moved in?”

“Yes, she’s all moved in. We had a nice dinner and, hopefully tomorrow, I’ll be able to give her some work to do.”

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear that you’re so optimistic for a change. Just a word of caution; when she was a freshman she had a little bit of problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Dad, I’ll tell you, but promise me you won’t ever tell her I told you. During her first semester, during the fraternity pledge week, one of the better houses on campus had a mixer. She went there with a couple of girls from one of her classes. During the party, she went upstairs in search of a bathroom. As she’s walking down the hall, some guy opens the door to one of the bedrooms and pulls her in. Before she knows what’s happening, she’s on the bed, her blouse ripped open and this guy’s on top of her trying to get his pants open. Tiffany doesn’t look it, but she’s pretty strong. She was able to push him off to the side and land a well-placed knee into his groin. She got out of the room and down the stairs before anyone could stop her. She told one of the brothers what had happened and, when he asked her what room she was in, she told him.

“‘That’s my room, and I know I locked it before the party started.’

He and three of his brothers ran up the stairs and got to the hallway just as the creep was sneaking out of the room. From what Tiff told me, they beat the crap out of him before they called the campus police. She ran because she didn’t want to get involved in a criminal investigation. She found out later that the kid wasn’t even a student at the school.

“But, the whole thing scared her enough that she decided to take karate lessons. She found she was really good at it and soon added Taekwondo lessons as well. After four years of study, she holds a black belt in both. So if I were you, I’d be extra cautious if you decide to sneak up on her. She could really hurt you, or worse, before she realized it was you.”

“I’ll take all that under advisement.”

“On a positive note; just think about it, you not only hired an editor, you also hired a bodyguard.”

Later that night, after his nightcap, he fell right to sleep. His dreams were vivid, but not sexual. They involved a woman, a martial arts expert, who fought for those who were too weak to fight for themselves. When he woke the next morning, he rushed to his office, turned on the computer and began to type. The dam had broken. The plots and sub-plots rushed into his mind faster than he could type.

Five hours later he had the entire story mapped out. All he needed now was to flesh-out his characters and paint the appropriate word pictures. He saved his file and pushed back from his desk. He was back; the creative juices were flowing again.

Realizing that it was nearly twelve o’clock, he approached the connecting door and would have opened it had he not remembered that he was no longer alone. Still dressed in only his bath robe, he retreated back into his bedroom and got dressed. Now he was ready to open the door; he wanted to tell Tiffany about his breakthrough, but she wasn’t there.

He went back into the office, opened the sliding door, and went to the balcony rail and scanned the beach. He still didn’t see her. Then he looked down. There she was, dressed in a Flyers jersey over a sweatshirt and a pair of black stretch-pants. It wasn’t how she was dressed that fascinated him; it was what she was doing.

It looked like a slow motion ballet. Each movement was precise and flowed smoothly into the next. Kicks were mixed in with the arm movements. She went on for twenty minutes, mixing full speed movements in with slow motion. When she was finished, she stood with her hands on her knees and allowed her breathing to return to normal.

Not wishing to be seen, Jim returned to the kitchen, prepared a pot of coffee, and cut up a couple of bowlfuls of fruit. Ten minutes later Tiffany walked through the doorway.

“Oh, you’re up. I went down to the beach for a while.”

“I’ve been up since seven; I was working in my office. I’ve got the bones of a new story! Now comes the hard part, though: bringing it to life. I haven’t been this close in four years. You must be a good omen for me.”

The process of fleshing out the story started slowly and took on a life of its own. Instead of Jim sitting at his computer by himself working through each phase of the story and then having Tiffany edit his work separately, much like Erika had done. They sat together in his office, bouncing ideas off of each other, each making meaningful contributions to the story. As time passed, Jim became more and more dependent on her presence, her input, and even their disagreements.

Most people work with the anticipation of the weekend; Jim endured the weekends with the anticipation of resuming their workweek. Tiffany became his drug of choice; and he was totally addicted.

For Jim, this became a personal dilemma. He was fighting his feelings for her. She was basically the same age as his daughter and even though it had been over five years since Erika had died, he just couldn’t allow himself to fall in love with another woman.

It took three months, but together they did it, and in the end they had a manuscript that they were both proud of. After a lot of back and forth between Jim and his publisher, it was decided that the novel would be published under a new pen name, that of a woman. Jim insisted that the woman’s name be Anne Tiffany.

The book came out at the beginning of summer and was quickly acclaimed a must “beach read”. It rose steadily on the Best Sellers List, making it to number 3 by the end of August. To celebrate, Jim and Tiffany got dressed up and went out to a fancy restaurant in one of the hotels in Atlantic City. After a night of dinner and dancing, on the way back home, they decided that they didn’t want the night to end.

“Why don’t we walk the boardwalk, it’s still pretty warm for the beginning of September.”

Jim couldn’t help feeling that he was the envy of every man they passed with Tiffany dressed in her little black dress, a shawl over her shoulders, clinging to his arm. Because she was still wearing heels, they walked the concrete pathway which had been built for the boardwalk tram. On more than one occasion they heard the five most annoying words heard on the boardwalk; ‘Watch the Tram Car Please,’ played by the driver instead of a horn.

It was nearly midnight when they decided that they had had enough and headed back towards their car. They had seen and heard a lot of motorcycles running up and down the streets but didn’t know why until they saw a poster tacked up on a utility pole. This was the first day of the three day “Roar to the Shore” motorcycle rally. They had parked in a lot several blocks from the boardwalk, and as they walked past one of the many bars on the side streets away from the family oriented boardwalk, a group of maybe ten bikers was just coming out of one of the bars.

As best that Jim could tell they were mostly females, which was confirmed when he saw the backs of their jackets “Dykes on Bikes”. As they passed the group someone called out, “Hey Sweet Cheeks”. Jim and Tiffany ignored them and kept on walking. But she called out again,

“Hey Sweet Cheeks; where are you going in such a hurry?”

Tiffany turned and appraised the group. The one with the big mouth was apparently the leader of the gang.

“Not you, Honey. I was talking to him. You know, sometimes a girl likes a little steak once in a while for a change of pace. Although with you, we could make it Surf and Turf.”

Jim tried to get Tiffany to ignore them and continue walking, but Tiffany couldn’t resist a little snide remark of her own.

“That’s okay, we’re really not into whale blubber,” she replied, an obvious reference to the woman’s extra rolls of fat around her middle.

“Listen Bitch, if you know what’s good for you you’d better shut the fuck up before someone comes over there and shoves her fist into that pretty face of yours.”

“Anytime you want to try, be my guest, Lard Butt”

Three women separated themselves from the rest. The leader followed by two others slowly walked towards Tiffany. Tiffany shrugged, slipped off her shawl and her heels and handed them to Jim saying, “Please don’t get involved; just keep walking towards the car, I’ll be there soon.”

Jim took her things and retreated a couple of steps, but had no intension of leaving her alone.

The leader threw the first punch, a hard roundhouse right, which Tiffany easily evaded. She did the same with the second and third punches, and then threw three lighting quick upper cuts to the woman’s unprotected belly. The leader, gasping for air, bent over at the waist, providing an irresistible target. Tiffany’s leg, raised high over her head, came crashing down heel first, on the side of her head. She pitched forward, landing face first on the sidewalk. She wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

Shocked at first to see their leader so easily defeated, the other two charged at Tiffany. The first tried to grab her, Tiffany grabbed her right arm, dragged it across her body and hit the back of the elbow with a sharp blow, resulting in a loud crack, there was no doubt that the arm was broken from the way the woman screamed in pain; her right arm hung uselessly at her side. As the third attacker got in range, Tiffany hit her with three rapid kicks, moving up her body, first her stomach, stopping her dead in her tracks; the second to her chest, straightening her up; and the third, a devastating kick to her jaw, which knocked her out before she hit the sidewalk. All three kicks had been landed in a blink of an eye.