DW is a veteran, a father, a husband, and a teacher. He's published 9 YA/NA novels thus far. The story you're reading might be next.
Jack admitted to himself that The Port City Java in the plaza by the corner of Eastwood Road and Military Cut-Off served a good cup of coffee. Not as good as the Parisian Bean, maybe, but pretty good for a chain store.
He and Georgia said very little as they enjoyed their decaf macchiatos. Most of the conversation revolved around Georgia’s job.
“This time of year is more-or-less our quiet time,” Georgia said. “When we were still doing yellow-book audits, we’d spend this time of year gearing up to go out on jobs with some of the municipal districts, but keeping up with those got to be too time-consuming and expensive for a small firm like ours. Now we concentrate on bookkeeping, payroll services, and compiling and reviewing financial statements for local businesses, along with the normal tax and estate work most small firms do.”
“Do y’all do any financial advising or business planning?” Jack asked.
“There’s a financial planning company we’re loosely affiliated with,” Georgia said. “We do tax implication forecasts for their clients, a lot of whom are also our clients.”
“It sounds like you have plenty to keep you busy,” Jack said. He started to take a sip of his coffee and realized his mug was empty.
Georgia, who had finished her coffee a few minutes earlier, watched Jack lower his cup.
“I’d love to ask if you want another cup,” Georgia said, “but I do have an early meeting tomorrow and should be getting home.”
“I should probably get headed back to the island anyway,” Jack said, standing up. “Thanks for the coffee. I enjoyed having this chance to talk.”
Georgia bit her lip and hesitated. She stopped herself short of inviting Jack back to her place. Instead, she stood, and said, “I enjoyed it, too. I wish we didn’t have to call it a night.”
Before Jack could respond, Georgia decided to act on a thought she’d been mulling. “Before we leave, can I ask you for a big favor?”
Intrigued, Jack asked, “What kind of favor?”
“Next Tuesday night, the local chapter of the NCACPA is having a dinner meeting at the Coastal Towers,” Georgia said. “I’d very much like for you to come with me to the dinner.”
“You mean I could be your date,” Jack said, with a knowing grin. “I don’t know that I’d have anything to wear to a fancy accountants’ dinner.”
“It’s not that fancy,” Georgia assured him. “It is July, and we are at the beach. A nice golf shirt and pair of khakis would be fine.”
“I think I could handle that,” Jack said. “What time Tuesday night do I need to be there?”
Georgia moved past him toward the door as she answered,
“I’ll pick you up at your place around six. The social hour starts at six and that way we won’t be terribly early.”
They had to wait at the door while a group of what looked to be college age girls, who weren’t doing a very good job of watching where they were going, came barreling through. The last girl through the door did turn to Jack and say, “Excuse us,” before giggling and following her friends to the counter.
Once outside, in front of Georgia’s Mercedes, Jack asked, “Do you know where I live?”
“I’ll call you later and get directions,” Georgia said, looking at her watch. “I really do have to run.”
Jack's story continues in Chapter 28
- Starting Over at 55 (A Buzby Beach Novel) Chapter 28
Jack, a high school teacher, received the call informing him of his wife's death on the highway nearly five months ago. When school ended, Jack sold their home, retired from teaching, and moved into the house his aunt left him on Buzby Beach. How old
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