Chapter One
All is Calm
Eric’s eyelids slowly fluttered open as the full force of the morning sun struck his face. With a slow, painful moan, he turned his head away from the beam of bright sunlight that was reflecting off the stained glass edging the tall windows of the bedroom. Evidently the sun had been cooking his left arm for a few minutes. It felt hot as he laid it across his chest to get it out of the sun. His right arm was dead to him. Brandy was laying on top of it in all her tanned, smooth skinned glory. Her streaked blond hair was hanging over her face and she had shoved the covers off both of them in her sleep. She was naked, gorgeous and snoring loudly.
It took some work to get her off his arm. He had to shove her a few times and she thrashed a little, striking his chin with one elbow before rolling over and continuing her snores. Struggling to sit up, he rubbed his arm and looked at the digital clock on the antique bed stand next to the four poster bed. It was nearly eleven o'clock in the morning.
His movements reminded him of how much wine he had consumed the night before and his vision swam as his brain quivered in his skull. The annoying wine hangover was in full force.
Leaning over, he managed to find his boxers in the heap of clothes next to the bed and pull them on. His legs were the pale, skinny, hairy opposite of Brandy's incredible gams. But then again, he slogged away in an office ten hours a day while she jogged and played tennis between her modeling jobs. It still amazed him that he was dating such an amazingly beautiful woman when he was a tall, gawky average looking guy.
Scratching his thigh as he walked to the bathroom, he noted the three bottles of wine strewn next to the bed and the remains of their gourmet meal tucked away on a silver tray next to the door. The bed and breakfast wouldn't tidy up until they left for the day or set the tray outside the door. He opened the door and shoved the tray out with one foot and then added the wine bottles for good measure.
Behind him, Brandy snored on.
Outside the birds sang and the wind rustled the limbs of the huge pecan trees hovering over the reconstructed farmhouse. It was a comforting sound. He took a moment to look out the window into the garden and saw it was empty save for a cat gingerly making its way across the stone walkway.
The shower was hot and refreshing and he was amazed at how sore he felt. But then again, it had been a sexual marathon the likes he had never done before. After weeks of working on a major project, he had finally had the chance to take time off and spend it with Brandy. It was obvious he had been neglecting her in a certain area and she had been demanding and exciting. As he soaped up his rather shabby chest, he once more vowed to work out and get into shape. Luckily, his clothes hid his slowly expanding stomach and still gave the impression of him being lean and long, but that would only last for so long before he headed into the uncomfortable world of being overweight. His head throbbed from the wine as he washed his medium brown hair that so perfectly matched his medium brown eyes. Everything about him was just medium, except for his girlfriend. She was exceptional.
Most of his friends hated her, but he decided this was about jealousy. They complained she was spoiled and he knew, guiltily, that this was true. He always bought her the best of everything, from her car to her clothes. She kept their home immaculate and always made him feel wonderful. They did occasionally have fierce battles, but mostly because he was still uncomfortable with his growing wealth and she was not. He still tended to keep a penny jar and buy his clothes at JC Penny.
Dressing in Dockers and a button down shirt (but he did roll up the sleeves and unbutton the collar), he stood in front of misty mirror in the bathroom and took a deep breath.
Today was the day. He was going to ask her to marry him. He had been carrying around a 4-carat diamond (she had told him from day one she would settle for nothing less) for weeks now and last night he had chickened out. Or perhaps had just been distracted by her throwing off her clothes. Either way, he had not pulled out the little blue box with the diamond ring inside.
"Okay, Eric, today. Today you're going to do it." He put on his glasses, nodded to himself, and walked out into the bedroom.
Brandy was still asleep, still snoring and now had one long leg dangling off the bed.
"When she wakes up," he murmured and let himself out of their room.
The hall and stairway was empty as he hurried down to the kitchen. The proprietor of the bed and breakfast, a woman in her early forties with masses of red hair, was standing in the doorway as he approached. Mrs. Waskom was completely absorbed in the small TV resting on the counter and jumped when he touched her arm.
"Oh, Mr. Hertzenburger, you gave me a start!"
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Waskom. I just wanted to see if I could get brunch for me and my girlfriend?"
Mrs. Waskom nodded as her gaze slid back to the TV. "Of course. I can have it set up for you in the dining room unless you want to eat in your room or on the patio?"
Eric glanced toward the TV and saw a scene of mayhem that made him inhale sharply. "Is that Iraq?"
"No," Mrs. Waskom answered. "It's Chicago."
The TV screen was filled with the view of a smoke filled street. Bloodied figures were stumbling through falling debris as a large building crumbled slowly into the crowd.
"Oh, God," Eric gasped.
"A plane crashed," Mrs. Waskom explained. "It just went down into the neighborhood."
"Terrorists?" Eric swallowed hard.