"There is this small little Italian place around the corner. It makes the best pizza. I was there one night, and the place was packed. I guess it was prom or one of those dances. In walks Walter and there are no empty tables, and he grumbles about the kids all taking them up. So, I offer to let him sit with me. I had a four top all to myself. Once he sat down, we ended up talking for four hours. They had to kick us out to close up. Then we find out we live in the same building."
"So, you started checking in on him." Brice helps me into the truck and shuts the door. When he gets in, I continue.
"Nope, two days later he comes pounding on my door. Apparently, he went home and looked up my company and he told me we were advertising one of our assets all wrong. He had spent two days fixing it. Hands it to me in a note and I stood there in shock. After I took the notes and read them, I decided to take a chance on it even though I still had no idea who he was. We put the new campaign up and it doubled our income in a week. So that weekend I bought a pizza and took it down to him and finally learned who he was, and now we have dinner together a few times a month."
"Does he still help with your advertising?"
I give Brice directions to the office, "No, but he did give some of my staff a few lessons. Now he watches my company and tells me when I'm doing something wrong, but he mostly writes. I visit him because he has some amazing stories, and seems to enjoy following my life. He's like a surrogate grandpa to me."
I shrug as we pull into my parking spot upfront."Oh, wait. They are quick to tow if someone other than me parks here."
I take a pen and paper from my purse and write a quick note and sign it and leave it on the dashboard, so Brice's truck won't get towed.
The moment I step into the building, I already feel exhausted.
Once we’re in my office, all eyes are on us, and don’t hide that they’re staring, but no one asks who he is.
The meeting with the investors is a whirlwind, but, in the end, they sign the contract. When they are on their way out, I lean over to Brice, whispering. "Get me out of here! My head is pounding."
He, in turn, whispers to my dad and a few minutes later we’re back in his truck.
"I was going to take you to dinner," I tell him.
"How about I call Jo at the diner and have her make us something and we’ll pick it up on the way home?"
"Sounds perfect. I'm going to nap."
"Okay, City Girl. You did great today. Get some rest."
If I did great, why do I have this sinking feeling in my stomach?