I was doing some cleaning at home. It was one of those few times when I was doing a thorough job, getting into those little places that you generally ignore because they're too hard to get at. I shifted my speakers about to get behind them and then started on the entertainment unit.
At one stage the entertainment unit had a large TV sitting on it. Now the TV is attached to the wall with the various cords associated with it running down inside the wall and into the back of the entertainment unit. This left a cleaner environment with no messy cords around. My DVD and amplifier equipment were inside the entertainment unit leaving a bare top. Too bare for my taste and so I'd put some ornaments on it, including a very nice bronze.
Cleaning around the entertainment unit I shifted the ornaments to other flat surfaces, notably the speakers, so they wouldn't get knocked over. Putting things back in their proper places I bumped one of the speakers and made a lightning grab at the ornaments to save them. A couple of them were very nice crystal pieces, lovely to look at, but not designed to be dropped. I didn't grab for the bronze as you could drop that from a plane onto concrete and the only damage would be to the concrete.
Did I mention that when I moved the speakers I parked them in front of the window? Why not? A large clear area that was out of my road. While I was grabbing my precious crystal the bronze was rocking on its base and falling but, like I said, it wouldn't be damaged by the fall. The same can't be said for the window. The damn thing went backwards and crashed into the glass. The glass, not being quite as hard as the bronze, cracked. Quite spectacularly, too. There was a chip in the glass where the bronze hit it and radiating out from the chip were half a dozen cracks that streaked like lightning to the edges of the window.
I was muttering rude things under my breath, waiting for the whole window to shatter and come crashing down around me, but it didn't happen. I breathed a sigh of relief, finished my cleaning, and rang a glazier.
Not super urgent, I informed them, as the window was holding up, but sooner was probably better than later. They arranged to come out on the next Saturday morning. They would, they said, send someone prior to that to measure the glass so they would have the exact size available. No, I couldn't give them the measurement, because clients had a tendency to measure incorrectly and then blame the glazier when the new pane was the wrong size.
Someone from the glazier swung past later that day and took the measurements, told me how much I was going to be up for, and waltzed off. I checked my house insurance and I was covered except for a hundred excess. I sent off my claim and relaxed, trusting the window would hold for a few days.
The window held up, although I had a couple of nerve wracking moments when heavy trucks drove down the street, causing some nasty vibrations and cracking sounds. Still, Saturday rolled around and the window was intact. (The glass was in about a dozen pieces, but it was hanging in there, doing its best.) Until a ball hit it.
It wasn't a hard ball, or a big ball. It was just a small rubber ball that this girl was throwing for her dog to fetch as she walked down the street. Now dogs don't care how accurately you throw the ball, as long as you throw it. They'll happily chase off in any direction to fetch it. A good thing too, because while the girl could throw the ball for a mile she didn't seem to have much control over where it went. One throw went sidewards, with the ball bouncing off the pathway leading to my door and onto the window. There was an appalling shattering sound and glass came cascading down into my living room.
I was in the living room at the time and was able to see the glass crumbling. Looking through the window I could see the young lady wearing a look of horror, then she and her dog were beating a retreat down the street as fast as their feet could carry them. If they'd hung around for another thirty seconds they'd have seen the glazier's truck pull up.
The glaziers cleaned up the broken glass, slapped in the new window, emptied my wallet, and departed, job done.
I thought no more about it. The insurance company would reimburse me in due time but I wasn't going to be hurting waiting for the payout. Whenever would be OK by me. (Not that I wouldn't hurry them along if I thought they were taking too much time to settle.)
Later that afternoon there was a knock on my door and, answering, I found a pretty and somewhat nervous young lady standing there. She was a brunette with shoulder length hair, a very nice chest, a nice figure overall, about age twenty. She was currently wearing a t-shirt and either tights or yoga-pants, damned if I know the difference. She also owned a dog. I knew this from having seen her chucking a ball for it. I'd also seen her around a bit.
"Afternoon," I said agreeably. "Um, Mary-Anne, isn't it? No, that doesn't sound quite right. Ah, Marion?"
She nodded and I continued.
"So, how can I help you, Marion?"
"Um, it's about your window," she said, sounding rather nervous.
"Which window?" I asked. "I have a number of them in my house."
"The broken one," she said, sounding put upon, and gesturing towards my newly replaced window. Then she noticed that the window was no longer broken and looked surprised. I saw her do a fast check to make sure she had the right house and then she turned back to me.
"Well, it was broken," she said irritably. "You must have worked fast to get it fixed already."
"Not me," I denied. "That's what glaziers are for. Why don't we discuss it inside?"
I stepped back, holding the door open. Her shoulders seemed to sag slightly but then she braced herself and walked in.
"I'm Matthew, by the way. Please call me Matt. You had a query about my window?"
"Um, I'm sorry, but it was me," she said rather ungrammatically and uninformatively.
"Oh, really? Ah, what was you?"
"I broke your window. I should have stayed and confessed at the time but I panicked and ran. I came past to apologise and offer to pay for it."
"You didn't break it," I told her. "I saw the ball outside and I don't think you could throw a ball like that hard enough to break a window. Casting no aspersions on your throwing ability, although your sense of direction could be improved."
"So you're saying the window shattering when the ball hit it was just a complete coincidence?" she asked sweetly.
"Bingo," I said smiling. "One of those unfortunate timing things. Nothing to do with you, so no problems."
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" she demanded. "We both know what happened. I feel I should pay you for the new window. How much was it."
I told her and she went pale.
"That much?" she asked, shocked.
I shrugged. "Glass is expensive," I pointed out, "and it is a big window."
"Um, I'm not sure I can pay you that much right away," she admitted. "Could I, ah, pay you some now and pay the rest off?"
"Why worry?" I asked. "I'm not pressing for payment. I didn't even ask you for payment. That was all your idea."
"But it's not fair to you," she explained. "Why should you be out of pocket because I was careless? Having to pay you off will just serve me right."
