Brainstorm. Sheldon J.D. Cohen

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СКАЧАТЬ word. Her facial expression was a model of attentiveness and a mirror of the emotion she may have been feeling at the moment. And those sparkling blue-grey eyes staring into mine, he thought. She had dark brown hair coiffed to hang shoulder length in a graceful curve covering her shoulders. She stared at you as if nothing else mattered except hearing what you had to say. There was no makeup, nor was any necessary on her smooth, blemish free face. She was five foot seven inches in her high heels, probably five three or four in stocking feet and was trim and fit. He judged her height when she stood next to him. First date, first impression—this gal was class. Let’s see what happens. The good news was that after her divorce she left Illinois General to take the supervisory nursing role at Covenant.

      “Where are you from,” he asked.

      “I was born in Covenant, believe it or not. My parents live in Barrington Hills now.”

      Recognizing one of the most affluent suburbs in the nation, he said, “Whoa, have I met another gal with big bucks?”

      “My parents have the big bucks, not me. They helped me with college for my nursing BS, but I paid for my master’s degree. I’m self-supporting, my good man. A woman’s in trouble these days without being able to support herself.”

      “You got that right; any serious man in your life?”

      “But I already told you, you’re the first date since my divorce. Anyhow why would you wish to know?” she asked with chin down and eyebrows lifted.

      “Just trying to be sure I got a chance to get to know you. I’m not one who likes to beat his head against the wall. I kinda like what I see, but when I get turned down, it wreaks havoc with my fragile ego.” He shook his head and put his hands over his eyes.

      She said, “Aw…poor baby.”

      He stared at her mock, pitying face and tried to mask a smile. Eve Worthey, he thought, this could be the start of a beautiful relationship.

      CHAPTER 3

      George finished Worthey’s mantelpiece earlier than promised. He felt better, but when he forgot to take the antacids, the pain returned. He began to suspect some medical problem, but chose to dismiss it. Too damned busy to be sick, he thought.

      In a few days, his symptoms quieted down. He delivered the signed masterpiece to Worthey who was very pleased. “George,” he said. If your work is always this good, how would you like to build a patio deck for me?”

      George was stunned, but delighted and said, “I could, Mr. Worthey, I’ve done decks before, but I don’t have a lot of time. That’s a full time job.”

      “It’s Fred, George, call me Fred. Time is not critical for me, George. Take your time. Do it on weekends, day off. I don’t care. There’s no hurry. I’ve been thinking about doing it for over a year and my wife wants one too.”

      “Okay, Mr. Wor…er Fred, I can do it, but I’ll have to hire another carpenter and a cement man to work with me.”

      “As long as you’re doing the supervising, that’s ok with me.”

      Worthey took off his thick spectacles and rubbed them on his T-shirt. “Look, George. You’re a true craftsman. Do the job part time, whenever you can. I know I’ll get a great product, so it’ll be worth the wait.”

      “Thanks, Fred.

      Fred Worthey was a multimillionaire and founder of an electronics firm. At sixty-six years of age, he was no longer active in company management, but continued to serve on the Board of Directors. He had a frontal baldness with penetrating dark eyes and a trim figure on a five foot eight inch frame. His background was as a Ph.D. in electrical engineering. Although trained in the early days of computers and electronics, he managed to stay abreast of the many advances that had so changed his industry and the world.

      It was Eve, a friend of Gail and daughter of Fred Worthey, who asked Gail if George would be interested in doing some carpentry work for her father. She had seen some of George’s work at his home when she was visiting Gail, and she raved about him to her father. On the strength of his daughter’s word, Mr. Worthey hired George to construct the mantelpiece and their relationship flowered.

      “Where do you want the patio, Fred?”

      “In the back, George. Follow me.”

      George surveyed the patio deck site and drew a rough sketch. “If you like this plan, I’ll take the sketches home and draw up a final set. I’ll hire the cement man and a second carpenter to help me out. I’ll get you good guys.”

      Worthey took the sketch, and studied it. George hoped he interpreted a look of admiration on Worthey’s face.

      “I’m sure your men will be good if you choose them, George. It’s a deal. Bring me the final plans as soon as they’re done.” Then he held up the sketch. As he scrutinized it, he shook his head and said, “Damn, I’m looking at this sketch that you knocked off in a minute. You’re one hell of an artist.”

      “Thanks, Fred. It’s just a hobby. I’ll bring you those final plans,” he said beaming with pleasure. He felt on top of the world. It was exciting to think that a man of Worthey’s reputation could think so well of him. But, why was this damn pain coming back?

      “Gail, I got good news,” George said that evening. “Fred Worthy was so happy about the mantelpiece that he hired me to build a patio deck.”

      “That’s great,” she exclaimed. “But, when will you have time?”

      He didn’t reply.

      “George?”

      “What?” he asked.

      “When will you have time?” she repeated.

      “Time for what?” he said with a quizzical look.

      She was shocked. “For what? For the deck. We’re talking about the deck.”

      He glanced at her with a scowl. “Saturdays and my day off,” he snarled, “and I’ll need health.”

      This took Gail aback. She was startled. “Health? What do you mean, health?”

      He took a deep breath. “What health? What are you talking about?”

      Now she was frightened, but tried not to show her concern.

      “You told me you’d work Saturdays and on your day off, but that you need ‘health.’”

      He gazed back at her for a good ten seconds. “I did?...Help, I meant help.”

      “Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue,” she said.

      Then he suddenly bent over, his eyes closed, his nose wrinkled, his lips apart, and his teeth clenched. He began writhing in pain.

      Gail leaped up. “George, what’s wrong?”

      His breathing was noisy and labored. His face turned white. He doubled over with both arms crossed above his upper abdomen. “The pain, it just started again.” Gasping, he reached inside his tool kit for the antacids. He downed two of them. “Let СКАЧАТЬ