Angela Hornsby, Durham Todd, and Geiger Nelson (20)

Angela Hornsby, Durham Todd, and Geiger Nelson (20)

    100 Oak Valley's Finest was a small diner with few luncheoning patrons unless it happened to be just after Pastor James Negus' service, then the place was packed with every member of The First Church's members, all dining on Suzette Peterson's delicious open-faced turkey sandwiches or chicken plate or any other fine dish from her menu.

    As it was only Saturday afternoon, just before 2:00, the Finest was barely operating. Only a few tables were full with families eating lunch or passersby on their way to St. Claire or some other tourist city north of 100 Oak Valley. At one of the booths by the large window proclaiming the diner's name and slogan ("The Finest Diner in 100 Oak Valley!") Durham Todd, Angela Hornsby, and Geiger Nelson sat eating their lunch and talking and laughing with joy. Each had, along with their meal, an early weekend drink. Mostly, Durham sat back and let Angela pick the writer's brain a little.

    "Did you always want to be a writer, Geiger?" Angela asked. They were all on first name basis here in the Finest.

    "Oh sure," Geiger said with a smile as he sipped his Pluto Sip/vodka mix. "Ever since I was a kid I loved to write. First it was scribblings, which became stories, which became books, which became books that sold. So, yeah, I either always wanted to be a writer, or it just fell into that."

    "I write some," Angela said. She never talked about her writing, but with a loosening drink she was less inhibited and more willing to talk. "Nothing, of course, on a scale as your stuff, but I dabble." She giggled at the word and pushed her drink away from her, realizing she'd had a bit too much to drink already.

    "Well," Geiger shrugged. "I'm sure being around books all the time like you are is really inspiring."

    "Oh yeah!" Angela smiled. "I love it. It's just so many imaginations in one place that it's such a powerful thing, you know?"

    "I know exactly what you mean." Geiger grinned.

    "So," Durham said, wanting to get a bit of words in. "You said you're writing a new one up there in the Woods?"

    "Yeah," Geiger nodded. He took a bite of his turkey and ham sandwich and then said, "Well, I don't think of it as writing, not really. It's more like I incubate this idea and it hatches through me."

    "Wow," Angela said. "I really dig that. Sometimes I feel that way when I put the ink to the page, too."

Durham looked from Geiger to Angela and knew there was something going on. The way they looked at one another, you'd have to be crazy not to see it. Nothing too permanent, yet, but some definite chemistry. He smiled to himself and listened as the writer spoke.

    "You know, Angela," Geiger said, downing the last little bit of his drink. "I think I'd like to take a peek at some of that writing of yours."

    "Really?" Angela's eyes went to double zeros of shock.

    "Yeah, I mean, if you don't mind, of course."

    "I-I don't know. I've never shown anyone my stuff before."

    "Go ahead, Angie," Durham smiled. "This guy knows the whole trade. I bet you got some good stuff there."

    "My thoughts exactly!" Geiger said. "Of course, if you don't want to..."

    "No," Angela shook her head. "I'd love to. I've got some of my stuff in my office at the library - I usually do my work there -if you want to take a look after we're done here."

    "Sounds great." Geiger smiled.

    "Hey, guys," Durham said. He knew a bit about crushes and infatuations and chemistry and could set a mood or help get one going. "How about I get the check and you guys can take your time and go over."

    "You're not coming?" Angela asked.

    "Nah," Durham shook his head as he stood up and retrieved his wallet from his pocket. "You know me, Angie, I ain't got an eye for literature. You guys go and have a good time."    

    "Well, alright," Angela said and turned to Geiger. She could care less if Durham was there, he saw. And that was fine with him. Not only did he want this chemistry to work out (Angie needed it. Her last fling had gone horribly awry and left her feeling blue) but he really didn't have an eye for books or literature. 

    He left the booth with the two bookworms talking about their favorite authors. Again. The subject had popped up many times throughout lunch. He went to the service counter to pay for the lunch and headed down the street to put in some more hours at the Quickie Gas!.