Chance Encounter Ch. 07

It was a Saturday. The workers got a late start. Bert thought that he would be able to have the job cleaned up, the workers on their way, and be on time to pick up Agnes at the airport at three. The insulators were getting to the end of the job, but Bert couldn't wait for them. The owner of the company was supervising the job. They had known each other for years.

"Frank!" Bert yelled over the noise of the compressor. "I have to pick up Agnes at the airport. If you finish before I get back, I'll settle up with you on Monday."

"No problem!" Frank yelled back.

"Just one thing," Bert yelled again. "I don't think the soffit vents are flowing right. Can you get someone up there to make sure that they're not plugged with insulation?"

Frank nodded 'yes' and gave him the thumbs up sign.

As they drove home from the airport Bert told Agnes that the insulators were finishing at the house. Agnes just sighed at the annual ritual. Something struck her as not quite right. She couldn't figure out what it was. As they rounded the corner of their street, it struck her.

"Hurry up, Bert! I want to get home before the insulators leave," she demanded to the confused Bert driving.

As they came within sight of the house Agnes saw the back of a panel truck, towing a compressor, heading away from them. Agnes knew it had to be the departing work crew.

"Damn!" she muttered under her breath.

"What?" asked Bert, even more confused. Agnes didn't answer.

As they parked the car Agnes ran into the house.

"Take care of my suitcases, Bert," she called over her shoulder. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Bert scratched his head. It had been a peaceful week, but it was over now.

Agnes closed the bathroom door so that Bert would think that she was in there. She made her way to the attic and peered over the billowing piles of new insulation. It looked like grey snow. She stepped across the joists, wading through it. She went directly to the spot at the eaves where she had hidden the paper bag with the money she had collected from Ed Grafton. She hadn't touched it since hiding it there weeks before.

It was gone.

She searched all around, in case it may have moved with the insulation blowing in. It was gone.

She searched for the memory of why she had taken so much pleasure in collecting the three thousand. It was gone, too. Gone, gone—it was all gone. What had she left?

She thought of a story to tell Bert when he asked her why she was covered with the insulation material that she thought so little of. He would never know the truth.

*******

The workmen rode in the back of the panel truck to the shop. One of the young men, Bobby, was wearing a smile and a baggy sweatshirt. The bundle stuffed under it wasn't noticed by the other workers.

"Bobby, why the big grin?" one of his friends asked.

"I just like this work." He told them.

*********

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

I hope that you're enjoying the story. As always, I enjoy receiving your questions and comments.

Autumn Writer