This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any real person or entity are entirely coincidental and unintended. It does start slowly.
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I always gave my hometown as a particular medium-sized city in the lower Midwest. To be more precise, though, I grew up about twenty miles east of the city. The area had been pretty rural back then. Even today, the area is less intensely developed than other areas around the periphery of the city. As typifies much of the lower Midwest, it is an area of hills, creeks, and winding roads.
I had gone to college in Chicago and to law school in North Carolina. After summer jobs with firms in the South and on the West Coast, I made the risk-averse decision to move back home. I took an entry level position with a huge firm in the city and lived in an apartment Downtown. Four years later, a couple of the partners with whom I worked closely left the firm to set up their own shop. I and a couple of other younger lawyers went with them. Almost two years ago, my mother succumbed after a long fight with cancer. A massive heart attack claimed my father about six months later.
One major consequence of my parents' passing was that I inherited their home: a very old house on 50 hilly, wooded acres about twenty minutes' drive out of Downtown (without traffic). I could never afford a comparable property on my own, even if one was available. So, I moved back to the place where I had grown up.
Despite moving back to the "country," my orientation remained towards the city. I worked in the city; did my shopping there; and went to restaurants, bars, shows, and sports there. One Sunday morning, I found myself without anything to eat for breakfast. Instead of going to my usual suburban supermarket, I decided to try the small grocery/hardware store in the small town where I had gone to high school, about seven miles farther east. I only needed eggs. Surely the store would have those.
There were only a couple of cars in the parking lot when I pulled in. The store itself initially seemed empty save for a very bored-looking check-out clerk. As I searched for the eggs, I was walking slowly past the refrigerated cases at the back of the store. I simply didn't notice the woman coming from the opposite direction until I bumped into her. She apparently hadn't noticed me either.
We didn't hit hard but, of course, I was immediately apologetic. Something about the woman looked familiar, but she wasn't anyone I knew in my current life. She looked at me for a moment and then asked, "Harry? Harry Stone?"
Recognition slowly dawned on me. "Yes," I said. "Carol Carr?"
The woman's face lit with a magnificent smile. "Yeah," she said. "What are you doing here?"
I had gone to high school with Carol Carr. We had never dated, but were part of the same loose group of 25 -30 friends, who had partied together and, notwithstanding the partying, were the top students, athletes, and musicians at our small school. I remembered Carol, when I thought of her at all, as attractive but nothing special. The woman standing in front of me now, while recognizably Carol, was special indeed.
Carol was a couple of inches shorter than me. Thick shoulder length brown hair framed a face somewhat reminiscent of the actress Ashley Judd. The tee-shirt and jeans she was wearing suggested a slender body with very noticeable, but proportionate, breasts. As an adult, Carol had become a very beautiful woman.
"Just looking for some eggs," I said inelegantly.
"Silly, I mean what are you doing in the village at all?" Carol replied.
"When my folks passed, I took their place, so I sort of live in the area again. What are you doing here? The last I heard, several years ago, you were in grad school somewhere out West."
"Yeah," Carol said. "It's a long story. I moved back about a year ago. Hey, you remember Terry Cole and Tom Barnes?"
"I do now that you mention them," I replied. We had also gone to high school with Terry and Tom.
"I'm having a small dinner at my place Friday, nothing fancy. Terry and Tom and a couple of other people are coming. Why don't you come? Bring your wife or girlfriend."
"Well, I'm still single and I'm not seeing anyone at the moment," I said.
Carol gave me a look which I couldn't interpret. "That's ok," she said. "Come anyway, about 7:00 p.m. Hey, I have to run. Give me your number and I'll call you with directions later in the week."
"Thanks," I said. "It might be fun to see a few of the people from back then." I gave Carol my cell number.
Carol typed my number into her phone, said "bye for now," turned, and walked away. It looked like her jeans probably covered a splendid ass.
I had serious doubts that Carol would actually call. I was also surprised at myself for hoping that she would.
Carol did call Tuesday night. She renewed her invitation and added that Mike Marsh and "a friend" were coming. Mike and I had been very good friends in high school, but I hadn't seen or talked to him for several years. If nothing else, it would be nice to re-connect with him. Carol gave me directions to her place, which was only a couple of miles from mine.
"Can I bring anything?" I asked.
"A bottle or two of wine would be useful. You remember how we all used to drink." Carol laughed.
That Friday evening was unseasonably warm for October. Armed with three bottles of fairly good wine, I snaked through the couple of miles until I found a mailbox with the street number which Carol had given me on Turkey Run Road. Besides the mailbox, all I could see was the entrance to a driveway that seemed to go straight up a hill. At least it was blacktopped.
Carol's driveway went uphill, with a couple of switchbacks, for about a quarter mile. At the top, a rustic, but fairly new-looking, house stood in a clearing. Stepping out of my car, I looked around. I knew the area, but had been unaware of this house. Although I knew that there were other houses around, I could not see any; only trees and, through a line of what looked like apple trees behind the house, something that might have been a meadow.
Carol was standing on her front porch, looking even better than she had looked in the grocery store. As she made a sweeping gesture with her left arm, she asked, "What do you think?"
"It looks great," I said. "How long have you had it?"
"Just over a year," Carol replied. "I got lucky. When I decided to move back here from the Bay Area, I was looking for anything in this general region. This place was being sold to liquidate an estate so the asking price was very reasonable. I grew up about a mile from here. I knocked them down a few thousand and decided 'why not move back to the old neighborhood?' I've done a little work on it since."
I followed Carol inside. The house was neat, nicely furnished, and more spacious than it appeared from outside. "I'm just putting together dinner," Carol said. "Come on into the kitchen and put your wine down. Terry and Tom and Mike and his friend should be here any minute."
"Can I help with anything?" I asked.
Carol though for a second. "Yeah, I've gone some lettuce and things out. Could you chop that up and put together a salad?"
Carol's kitchen was very well-equipped and smelled slightly of garlic. Pots were simmering on a high-end range. I put together a salad as Carol worked on her main course.
At my prompting, Carol gave me a summary of her post-high school life. "I went to college in Wisconsin and studied computers. I got into a grad program in Seattle. With Microsoft out there, they have some great instructors. After I got my masters, I hooked up with an online marketing firm in Oakland. I lived in the Bar Area until just over a year ago."
"What prompted you to move back to flyover land?" I asked.
"Several things," Carol replied. "First, the tech industry out there is very male-dominated. I saw myself running into a glass ceiling. I figured that I could do what I was doing for the guys on my own and control my own future. Of course, the Bay Area is a very expensive place to live. I thought that I needed to be somewhere with a lower cost of living if I wanted to have a real chance of making it on my own. While the Bay Area was exciting, as I got a little bit older, the idea of going back to where I have roots started to seem more appealing. Also, I had a multi-year relationship that had just ended."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Don't be," Carol said, "He was a shit. It just took me a long time to see that." Carol paused. "Basically, I got dumped for a newer model."
I looked at Carol for a moment. Assuming that her move home had not caused some magical transformation in her appearance, I thought that her ex-lover had exercised extraordinarily bad judgment. Carol looked back at me, saying nothing more.
The silence was broken by Carol's doorbell. "Would you get that?" Carol asked. I went to the door and opened it for Terry Cole and Tom Barnes.
Terry stood on the porch with Tom behind her. She momentarily had a perplexed expression. "Harry Stone?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, I wasn't expecting to see you. How are you?"
Terry still wore her blonde hair cut short as she had in high school. She still had the compact figure she had possessed as a high school cheerleader and tennis player. There were some age lines in her face. Terry and I had never been close friends, but she was a part of that same group in high school. Terry had been very straight-arrow in high school. I was surprised that she had hooked up with Tom, who had been a dedicated stoner in high school and not the sort of whom Terry had approved. Tom had been so languid, or stoned, all the time that you wondered whether he was aware of his surroundings. He looked more mature and responsible now.
Over Terry's and Tom's shoulders, I say another car pull up. I showed Terry and Tom into the house and went back to the porch to greet my old friend Mike Marsh. Mike stopped as he got out of the car.
"Stone? What the hell are you doing here?" Mike exclaimed. He bounced up the steps, put his left hand on my shoulder, and shook my right hand vigorously. "Shit! It's good to see you!"