“Bird watching?” he asked.
“No, just enjoying the radiant morning sunshine.”
“There’s only one type of bird I like looking at,” he said with a broad grin.
“Oh yes?”
“Yes,” he said. “The double-breasted mattress thrasher. And I just happened to see one in close proximity.”
“Disgusting old fart,” she said, laughing. “Come on. It’s time to hit the road and go to work.”
Nathan watched from behind as Emily walked through the kitchen into the open-plan lounge/dining area. He had a thing for her firm shapely legs and tiny feet. She also had this cute walk that projected subtle sex-appeal; something she was apparently unaware of.
Nathan and Emily both worked in the I.T. department of SkyTech, a technology and communications company. For longer than either cared to remember, they had skirted around their true feelings for each other, fearful of losing the solid friendship that had built up between them over the years. Only after a social function did Nathan finally build up enough courage to ask Emily if she would like to spend the night with him. She was ecstatic.
It became a standing joke within the Information Technology department that Emily now officially worked under Nathan. Neither minded the teasing.
Within six months, financial resources pooled, they purchased their new home. Nathan sold his condo in Elmhurst, and Emily left her apartment in Queens to be shared by Matthew and Eleanor, her adult children. Emily provided some assistance with their monthly rental and utility expenditures which were rapidly escalating. The Board of Directors overseeing utilities had recently granted themselves another insane increase in salaries and benefits. Their justification, as usual, was based on performance and industry standards for financial compensations. It made Emily fume just thinking about it. They were the industry and therefore set their own standards. As for performance, the only thing they excelled at was granting themselves wealth while the rest of New York struggled to pay bills.
Like many people, Nathan and Emily followed all the energy-saving advice given by the utility companies, but their marketing strategy was one designed to cut maintenance costs, not save consumers money. Their campaign worked remarkably well; people were consuming less electricity and water, but it also resulted in the utilities not meeting their quotas. Their solution◦– up the prices, but not on kilowatts-per-hour or gallons consumed. Instead, charges on supply, connection, delivery, maintenance, and all sorts of other hidden items, were escalated. It was a no-win situation. If you used too much, they screwed you; if you used to little, you were also screwed.
After they moved their belongings out from their previous homes, the best furniture and appliances were kept. The duplicates, those that her children didn’t care for, were put on the street for anyone who wanted it. Garbage collection would take care of anything left over at the end of the week. Most of the stuff disappeared very quickly, and much to Emily’s amusement, one lady in the neighbourhood came back to complain about the Kitchen-Aid food processor. She claimed that it didn’t really match her colour scheme and did Emily have another!
It was a wonderful first few months getting settled. Nathan left Emily to decide on how she wanted the furniture placed and what colours the rooms should be painted. Nathan kept himself occupied with the minor irritations of replacing cupboard doors, taking care of electrical and plumbing problems and removing the fly screens. They soon discovered that the screens did a better job keeping the flies in than out.
They only had one unfortunate experience. A tall spruce was uprooted by a freak windstorm. Not much damage was done other than to the corner of their surrounding wall. It wouldn’t have been expensive to fix, but for removing the tree, they were quoted over five hundred dollars. Nathan submitted a claim. Expecting nothing less, he was duly informed by the insurance company that his policy did not cover claims deemed as an act of God.
Nathan got on the phone.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t accept your reason for not honouring our claim. We follow the faith of Islam,” Nathan lied. Neither he nor Emily entertained any religious beliefs. As far as Nathan was concerned, any form of deity was a manifestation of man using religion as a tool. The perfect sales pitch◦– life after death.
“Well, yes,” the insurance assessor stated with false remorse. “We were, of course, referring to it as being an act of Muhammad.”
“Are you trying to insult our beliefs,” Nathan responded with feigned anger. “Muhammad is our Prophet, not our God. Allah is our one true God, and uprooting something as precious as a tree was certainly not the will of Allah.”
Emily had been listening in on the conversation, trying not to laugh.
“May the fleas of a thousand camel infest his armpits,” she cursed in jest after Nathan ended the call.
Insurance paid up and waived the excess.
Nathan cancelled the policy.
Emily and Nathan looked forward to coming home at the end of each work day just so that they could turn their new house into a home; one that they both loved more and more. This was what sharing a life had become all about. Not only sharing a life, making one.
Chapter Two
Two guards, both recruited from Special Forces six months previously, were seated at the security station in SkyTech Tower’s main atrium which provided access to the elevators servicing the thirty-one storey complex. A third guard was making his rounds in the underground parking two levels below, paying special attention to James Clark’s Bentley Continental Coupe in reserved bay P2-01.
Obadiah Brown, recently appointed chief of security, had stepped up the entire protection of the building and its occupants following the vengeful destruction of SkyTech’s Information Technology department a year previously. Prior to that, more than a single untrained night-guard of questionable age had not been considered essential.
Half an hour into the start of a regular day, the activity of people on business of their own gained momentum. Among the twenty or so individuals passing through the atrium was an electrical maintenance worker who had just entered through the revolving glass door. Following closely behind, an attractive brunette seemed to be having trouble with the door. To the bewilderment of the guards, her loose, semi-transparent chiffon blouse entangled itself between the push-bar and the frame surrounding the clear laminated curved glass. She tumbled unceremoniously into the atrium, leaving her top dangling freely from the door, as it continued its slow rotation. Her small clutch-bag slid across the floor, emptying out a few personal items.
Sean O’Brien, with attentive eyes on the security station’s array of monitors, was first to become aware of the young woman’s unfortunate situation. He immediately stood up, snatched his coat off the backrest of his chair and rushed towards her. The distraught woman was now getting up and trying unsuccessfully to cover herself with her hands. O’Brien supported her as she steadied herself, and then wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, leaving her to close it around her slim upper body. He stole a quick glance at her voluptuous assets.
The second guard, Lester Gibb, following a few seconds behind, came to offer assistance. He picked up the lady’s bag on the way, awkwardly scooped back its contents and handed it over to her.
Aside from being a little shaken by the ordeal, no damage appeared to have been done to the young woman other than suffering the indignity of entering the atrium in a somewhat less than dignified manner. O’Brien escorted her to one of the more secluded visitor’s chairs scattered throughout the atrium, while Gibb went to see about recovering her top from the revolving door.