Edited by Barney R. Messed with by me.

Author’s note: This is a repost. I have corrected some inconsistencies. All legal references are from what I could find on the Web. Therefore, they should always be suspect. Remember this story is fiction.

She said it was a company dinner. It was a dinner for two employees. I discovered that because of a coincidental invite.

I am David Elkins, 40 years old, a financial planner, and today I would have been single again. My late soon to be former wife had shown that I couldn’t trust her or believe her so I divorced her it would have been final today.

Rachael McCall was a junior transfer from a community college. She was in my Business Ethics class. I was a senior needing two classes to get my degree. I was taking this class as part of my major, and because I liked the way the professor gave his lectures.

She sat down next to me during the first lecture of the class. I looked over at her and liked what I saw. She appeared to be petite, had a wonderful smile, and the prettiest blue eyes I had seen since my younger sister died.

I was 24, and had taken a couple of years between high school and college to help my family to pay some of the medical bills from my younger sister, Alice. The bills were for treatment for her injuries caused by the rich drugged up asshole who managed to kill himself when he ran the red light and t-boned Alice’s compact car. Mom and dad eventually got a sizeable award from the idiot’s estate after Alice died, but it was hard times until the lawsuits were settled. Because of Alice’s age, and the assholes drugged state at the time of the accident, my folks received a more than twelve million dollars, tax free, settlement.

Rachael was talkative and told me she was 21, and that she had won the birthday lottery (as she called it) and had not yet turned five when she started school.

Once the professor started the class, she quieted down and listened and took a lot of notes. After the lecture was finished and we were exiting the classroom she asked me why I didn’t take notes.

I said, “I have a secret weapon.” I pulled my pocket recorder out. I continued. “I record every lecture, and always sit in the front row so I don’t miss anything.”

I asked if she would join me for a cup of coffee. She said sure. As we walked to the coffee shop just off campus, I told her about my family and she told me about hers. She had a younger sister who was a senior in high school, and mom. Dad decided to leave for greener pastures when Elizabeth, her sister turned 16. That did not work out so well for him; the greener pasture’s husband killed him and her just two months after he left.

We had our coffee, and another. We ended talking for almost two hours. I asked for and she agreed to go on a date. We decided to go to a dance club that was near the campus. Rachael was living in the dorms, and I had an apartment just off campus. I told her if she did not want to walk, I would pick her up at 7:00 and take her to dinner.

She said that dinner sounded good, but that I was not to go overboard because she understood that college kids did not normally roll in money.

I laughed and told her my major was all about money management, and I would be prudent. I did not tell her that my parents gave me back all the money I had spent on my sister, and they paid for all of my college expenses, so I was not a struggling college student.

We went to a local upscale Italian restaurant. I had calamari and Rachael had veal scaloppini. We had Chianti of course, and unlike most Italian places this wine did not taste like red varnish. The dinner was a smash, and Rach (she told me to call her that) had a tiramisu and I had gelato for desert. It was a wonderful evening.

When we finished dinner and danced ourselves out, I took her back to the dorm and we kissed. Then she said, “We did not have to come right back here.”

I replied, “Maybe not, however, I want to take you out again, and I plan on a long slow courtship. I want to see where we may end up. This was a wonderful beginning.”

It turned out to be a wonderful courtship, while it lasted. We dated for the entire school year. That summer after I graduated, I found a job with a local insurance agency, and Rach went back home for the summer.

Sometime during the summer, my calls were not being returned. I was not raised a dummy, and realized that Rach had moved on. I was sad, and put out that she did not tell me, but went on with my life.

The insurance thing did not work out, but after 6 months, when I showed a disposition for investments, I moved to a financial planning and brokerage house that was affiliated with the company. I got a raise and a bigger commission. For someone under 30, I was doing great.

I had been with the company for about 18 months when Rachael called me. The first thing she asked was, “Why did you stop calling me that summer.

To which I heatedly responded, “After you failed to return my calls for the third week in a row I got the message. Now did that romance end so you could come slumming again?”

I got a flash on my phone ‘call ended 47 seconds’.”

That did not end it. She was at my office the next morning. I walked past her and opened my door and stepped aside so she could come in. I closed the door behind her.

“I would offer you something to drink, but my common courtesy left when I was hung up on last evening. What can I do for you Miss McCall, or is it Mrs. now?”

She was irate, “You can stop being a horse’s ass. I know I made a big mistake, but I came to apologize, and I haven’t been able to because you are so mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you. I got over that two weeks after you failed to tell me we were through and even before you didn’t return my third missed call that summer. If I treated you as bad as you treated me, I apologize. Now that that is out of the way, why are you here?”

“I told you I came to apologize, and it isn’t Mrs., it is still Miss McCall. I made a terrible mistake that summer, and I am sorry I was too chicken to tell you I was dating other guys.”

“That is ancient history. I have gotten over it and moved on with my life. I accept your apology, have a nice day.” With that, I got up and held open the door.

Rach stood up walked over and took the door out of my hand and closed it again.

She screamed; “You sanctimonious prick! Didn’t you ever make a mistake in a relationship?”

I angrily came back with, “Of course I have, but I always let the person know I was moving on. I can’t say that I was surprised that you moved on, but I was and am put out that you did not have the courtesy to tell me that. Now this conversation is becoming circular, if you are done apologizing, this is my place of business and I have paper to shuffle. Please show yourself out.”

It was a good thing she had closed the door, because the swearing and vitriol that came out her mouth was epic. This was from a woman that never even said damn when we were dating.

As she wound down, I called security and had her escorted out. I shuffled paper for the rest of the unproductive day. I finally left a couple of hours early, and stopped at a local pub for a beer.

While sitting at the bar I realized that I still had feelings for Rachael McCall, and that I was probably piling on this morning. After I finished my beer I went home and called the number that she had called from.

The call informed me that the number was unavailable. I assumed that Rachael had turned her phone off. I figured that the actions from today were enough to put me off all woman for maybe a week, off Rachael, probably forever.

Well good intensions and all that, Rachael wrote me a letter and addressed it to my office.

I read that letter and sat on it for a couple of days. I was still upset with her outburst and wanted to let my feelings settle down a little before I responded. There was no question in my mind I was going to respond, but it was how I was going to respond that I needed to think about,

I read it and decided that there was enough anger in there to let her know what I was thinking without shutting all of the doors on my end. I thought that if she called or came to see me, we had a chance.

I mailed the letter.

Well, the result of the letter was not what I expected. I expected one of two actions, with three possible results. I mostly expected Rachael to just kiss me off in her mind and ignore me and go on with her life. If that didn’t happen, I expected her to call, write, or show up in person. If she showed up, she would be either contrite, or angry. None of that happened,

What happened was she started stalking me. She tried to be invisible, but she hadn’t thought it out to well. At the time, I was living in the country on a farm I bought with the intention of raising horses. The road I lived on was over seven miles of two lane gravel and a major traffic rush was four cars a day. A car following me for a week straight was noticeable, especially when the car is a lime green Volkswagen New Bettle.

I decided two could play those games, and I started following her as she was trying to find me. She did not catch on as I had purchased two vehicles, and switched them daily. I normally only drove my sedan when I wasn’t doing farm work. I drove the pickup when I needed to go get supplies.

About a week into not finding me she finally called. “David, where have you been this past week, I could not find your car at your office. I know you figured out I was following you, but it was only because I was trying to work up the courage to tell you I want us together again. If it has to be on your terms, then that is what it will have to be.”

I thought of a perfect solution and I thought a damn funny one. “Ok, but on my terms, but the first non returned call and we are done for good. I realize that there are times when you won’t be able to answer your phone, but I will always leave a call back number and message even if it to just say I called. Now would you like to go to dinner this Friday?”

“Of course, where and how dressy?”

“I was thinking of maybe going to that old monastery that has been converted into a fancy gourmet restaurant. If you say ok, it is a dress for the woman and a suit and tie for the man. Still want to go?”

“Yes,” she squealed, “I have just the dress to wear. I have wanted to wear it for you ever since I found you again. What time?”

“I will make reservations for 7:00, and will be at your place at 6:15, unless you would like to see the farm you have driven past. It is mine, and I live there.”

“I don’t think I want to see it on our first date back together, maybe Saturday?”

“Sounds like a plan. See you then.”

What I didn’t tell her was I would pick her up in my farm truck. I would not drive that to the restaurant, but would park my BMW Series 7 sedan at my office, and we would switch vehicles there. That is why I told her 45 minutes early for a 10 minute drive. I expected a semi-playful slug on the arm when I drove up to my sedan, but I did not know what her reaction would be to the truck.

When I pulled up to her house, she took a look at the truck, at me, at the truck, at me, and got a crestfallen look on her face. I deliberately did not wash the truck on the outside, but I was not so cruel as to leave the inside a mess that might hurt her dress. What she did not know was my 1950 F-1 Ford was a hot rod. The inside was better than any car on the market, and the bucket seats just about massaged your back when you sat in them. The engine was a Ford 289 with twin 4-barrel carbs mated to a Muncie 4-speed transmission. I opened the door for her and helped her in, taking care to protect her dress from the dirt.