I start, you add, then someone adds more etc...

[LEFSElover]

...to the story, let's see where it travels to if anywhere...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He started out saying, "four, three, two..." I didn't know where he was going with this. I never can figure Gerran out. What makes this guy tick? At almost 7 feet tall with that massive blue black curly hair and those out of character freckles across his nose, you often wonder what he's thinking and how he comes up with his odd notions.

Didn't matter though, he was still taking me out to dinner at a favorite dive in town. Meeting up with his obnoxious sister wasn't anything I was looking forward to, but then, she always did have great stories she'd end up telling. The nights are always long when she's there. But I always find out something new about her and her altogether 'still' very secretive life. And there's that never ending twitch too.

She never did finish that one though. Something about a tree with their initials on it. I never got who the other person was in the initial part and only assumed hers was one of them. Oh well, maybe tonight she'll finish that one before starting a new one.

Gerran picked me up late [as usual] but this time his excuse was...

[Barbara L]

…so ridiculous it had to be true. You just couldn’t make stuff like that up.

“There I was,” Gerran said, “driving down North Poplar Street, when a herd of cattle runs out in front of me! I’m wondering if I had died and gone to some dirt road town in Texas, but no, it was still downtown Atlanta. I turned on the radio and the news said a truck had crashed through the fence at a meat packing plant.”

“Sure,” I said. “Happens at least twice a week around here. Thinking about all that prime rib on the hoof has made me hungry. Let’s go already!”

As we drove toward the restaurant, I prodded Gerran a little. “So why was your sister so insistent about meeting us tonight, of all nights?”

“Oh,” Gerran said, hesitating slightly. “I thought I told you. You see, she…

[LEFSElover]

...has a proposition that she's been telling me about over the last few weeks and it's about [and for] you. She's hoping, if she gets you in just the right mood, you'll say yes to her offbeat offer.

She's been pondering opening a specialty boutique in the old Wellsley Library that's just now, gone on the chopping block at a financial steal. Her idea is featuring clothes and jewelry. It must be all handmade and completely unique, one of a kind, very pricey and attract celebrity types. She knows of your mad skills in management and also knows your creative side is unparalleled. But she's concerned that all you do know [about her] may well be the deal breaker. The odd part is, she has contacted a silent partner about funding and his requirements are border line frightening. She's hoping you'll look beyond this if you just agree to say yes.

She's going to tell you all of this at dinner, including who this mystery funder is, but I can't stand this a second longer, so I'm going to tell you.

Getting into the car with new tension mounting, Gerran says, "You won't believe this but it's...

[Barbara L]

…Fred Allomeyer!”
I was shocked, to say the least. “Fred Allomeyer? Isn’t he that eccentric billionaire who lives in that weird igloo thing up in the Arctic Circle? I thought he had pretty much shut himself off from the world.”

“That’s the thing,” Gerran said. “He does live up there, but it is some fancy igloo. It is actually very palatial and has all the amenities, and then some. At least that’s what Sis said.”

“You mean Marti has seen it?” I sputtered.

“Yeah,” Gerran exclaimed, “she saw it when she brought him a picture. I guess he misses seeing more than snow out of his window. She brought him a big framed picture of a tree. I could have thought of a lot more interesting trees than that one to bring him a photo of. You remember that old pecan tree at the back of my grandma’s yard? Why on earth would she think he would be interested in that squirrel-ridden thing? It’s probably up in his ‘igloo attic’ as we speak.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I mused. “It might just be above his mantle.” …[next]…

.

[MexicoKaren]

...in a place of honor. He's that goofy, I hear. How does she know this guy, anyway?, " I wondered aloud as we pulled up in front of the Loco Taco.

"Oh, she and Fred and I were inseparable when we were kids...those are his initials on that tree."

I hurried after him into the restaurant. As always with Gerran, I had more questions than answers, and I was brimming with them.

But seeing Marti standing by the cash register waiting for us stopped me in my tracks. The Loco Taco is one weird place, but she stood out among the other eccentric customers, wearing....

[luvs]

a bathing suit & flip-flops.
it wasn't THAT warm out that day.
we ordered and dined in near silence, until i spoke.
"gerran, we hafta talk, this ought well be said."...

[LEFSElover]

..........."In all my years, " I whole heartedly stammered, "I can only recall a few times when I've needed a serious discussion. I'm a balled up mess and you need to start clearing some things up and now. And what on earth are you doing in that gawd awful outfit? Do you not see that others are dressed in real clothes?"

Gerran just looked perplexed and stumped as usual. He mustered a stern voice and screeched, "Let's grab that table over there, it looks the most private. Maybe we can get some stuff on the table [so to speak]."

Marti and that dang twitch of hers was really starting to get my goat but then, she always did get this way when she was about to be put on the spot. Always a tell tell sign of something about to happen or be said.

As we sat, she opened up. "Garren, you wanted to start a new business and asked me for help. Well, now it's time to tell Carmie about it don't you think?" "What? Oh no you don't. You're not going to pull me into this. It's you with this scheme, NOT me!" Garren was mad enough to stand up straight and hit his head on the ceiling. I don't remember ever seeing him that red in the face.

All I could do was hope for a normal response, but then, we're talking Marti here and that just doesn't seem...

[Robo410]

likely to happen. And it didn't. The two had never really gotten along, not since their parents had divorced and placed them with their aunt and uncle in Denver as foster parents. Denver had suited Garren's skiing passion but Marti had grown withdrawn and skittish of public areas. Now, just when she was coming out of her shell, she tried to deflect the limelight and...

[LEFSElover]

..........found herself in the same uncomfortable stammering reality she knows only too well.

Garren's expression tells me he's ill at ease and as is normal for him, I can read him like a book, he gets out of the situation by dodging to the Amigo's room. I'd like to go to the Amiga's room myself, to have a moment to sit and figure out how this night will work.

I turn to Marti and say, "You know, it's been an awkward day all the way around. How bout you and I ordering a Margarita while Garren's in the restroom, and we'll get down to brass tacks when he returns." Surprisingly enough, Marti looks more at ease in her chair now. If that's possible in the spindly things they call dining chairs.

As she and I make small talk, we both settle in on the same thing and at about the same time. Where is...

[jabbur]

Garren? He's taking an awfully long time in the Amigo's room! I turn to Marti to see if someone should check on him when over her shoulder I see Neil approaching our table. I haven't seen Neil in about 10 years and while his appearance has changed, it certainly hasn't improved with age. His thinning hair is now gone completely and his nose has enlarged with his constant drinking. He's put on a bit of weight in the wrong places and his smile is still as smarmy as ever. He sidles up to me and says...