Harry O'Hern's alarm went at 7:00. In recent weeks as part of his return to normal life he'd resumed jogging each weekday morning.
Fifteen minutes later he set off, a lone figure but no longer 'lost' as thought of Teresa and the gap that had left in his life had slipped into the background. He'd received a call from Sierra's mother the previous evening saying her daughter had arrived home two days ago and was ready to return to work; she'd be in her office in the morning.
The Sentinel was a morning newspaper, with most of the editorial staff working from 2:00 p.m. but some started as early as 7:00 am. Harry was entitled to work whatever hours he wished although always being on call - that being stated in his employment contact he drafted and accepted by the board executive chairman Duncan Bycroft who regarded the young man with huge respect who also was a potential helping hand in the reform of his wayward daughter Sierra.
Harry decided he'd normally work from 10:00 to 7:00, Mondays to Fridays. Sierra as deputy executive editor, and Frank Ryan as Harry's replacement as city editor, had to arrange how they'd share the weekend days as one of them had to be in charge on those weekend days, taking two mid-week days off in compensation.
Ah Sierra, thought Harry, stopping midway in his run to tighten his laces of new generation running shoes that delighted him because the so-called 'inbuilt technology' really seemed to work.
Sierra was his age with an older brother Guy, an attorney, who sat on the board of the publishing company but it was Sierra who'd eventually assume the tiller of the family newspaper and printing company.
Harry's promotion over her had been a board decision, a wake-up call to rein her in from acting more like a misbehaving and promiscuous pop star than a mature business woman facing huge responsibilities.
Sharing a half bottle of whisky, after Harry had thanked Duncan for standing behind him in the sequel to Teresa's fateful ride, Duncan revealed: "I voted against Sierra filling the vacancy I gave to you."
Harry, who's assumed Duncan had voted for his daughter during the board's split decision, choked "What!" in disbelief.
"Christ, don't tell her and certainly not her mother; Margo will behead me."
"Why do you do it?"
"Because she's a playgirl, in need of having her ass kicked. I told the board this before I took the vote."
Harry swallowed, nervous about the way this conversation was going.
"I know you are ruthless, but didn't think you'd go that far."
"What charming compliments Harry Here, let me pour you another one," the chairman grinned. "You know, if you were to marry Sierra, my problem with her would be over, this company would be in good hands."
"What?"
Duncan looked at him slyly.
"Don't say you haven't thought about giving her a bang - she's got a great body with everything in the right place and I am led to believe, loves doing it."
"What?"
"Harry your inability to respond intelligently to me here is a little tiresome. You usually do better than this."
"Duncan I'm going home and you should leave too as you've had a lot to drink."
"True, but I haven't lost it. If you marry her Harry you won't regret it and she won't either, in my opinion. I've looked around and you're the only man I feel has a chance - how did that Shakespeare thing go? Oh yeah, the taming the shrew. Achieve that and she'll be ever so grateful to you."
"Sorry, Duncan, you've stuffed up any chance of that happening - she'd going to hate me forever being promoted into the position she believes is hers. She won't allow my dick anywhere near her."
"Ah, the whisky talking at last; and I'm glad to find you have a crude side to you young man to go with those conservative, talented and tough sides. Don't you see - I've given her the challenge to grind you out of that job, but before doing that she'll have to know everything about you - why you are better in newspaper management than she is."
"How do I know this? It's because she and I attended a very aggressive seminar a few months ago charmingly entitled, 'Clawing Your Way to the Top'. When Sierra returns home and moans to me about not getting the top job I'll remind her of Anis Schwartz's seminar."
Stretching, Harry pushed back those thoughts, looked at the dawn sunlight dancing on the harbor waters and continued on with his waterfront run.
Harry was four miles into his one-way six-mile jog, still feeling the effort as he was not back to peak fitness, when the throaty sound of an all-engine-and-money sports car pulled in alongside him.
"Hello handsome, nice ass."
Sierra! He'd know the honeyed voice anywhere.
He looked at her.
She was in white, classy sunglasses, hair looking terrible, an arm hanging over the door that seemed to project her breasts well. Yes, he could be into her in a flash - move over babe and take this.
He was fully primed, in fact having been in that status for several weeks. But talk to Sierra like that and bang, she'd likely jump from her vehicle to land a punch on his mouth or kick him in the nuts.
"Good morning Sierra. I trust you coped with your sick leave?"
Well, that was hot Sierra turned off, shriveled sexually because of that really dumb greeting. He could have kicked himself.
"Oh baby that's a pleasant greeting after I treated you like crap over that stupid appointment outburst. You were the best guy for the position and I simply have to accept that. By the way, I was sorry your girlfriend bought it in that accident. She appeared to be a nice kid."
"Thanks."
Sierra allowed a little pause and then said in a rather husky voice. "I thought perhaps we could go out to a club tonight and I could find some way to apologize that may unfreeze your cold heart, you still look pissed off with me."
Without thinking Harry said sorry but he'd be working on monthly figures.
