Chapter 2: Chapter 2
“And you are?” I sounded snobby, above him, but really didn’t mean to.
“Tucker Martini. Everyone calls me Tuck.”
We shook hands.
“Your last name is the alcoholic beverage?” I asked, curious of him, and unable to remove my stare from his solid frame.
“Better that than Tucker Meth or Tucker Ebola, right?” he joked.
I laughed. “I guess so.” I was nervous, adrenaline-filled, and unable to think straight. Then I said, “Thanks for saving my life. I could have been killed.”
“Any good man will save another man’s life.”
Although it was twilight out, smeared with the edges of night, something twinkled green in his eyes. It was just the way the evening sun floated into and over them, a quick and enchanting action that maybe caused me to like the man at first sight.
“So, you’re a goodman?”
“I’d like to think so. Most men call me a greatman.”
“We all like to think of ourselves as great men.” I didn’t know what I was saying. Words were spilling out of my mouth without any construction or thoughts.
At the front of the Tudor, Miss Kitty was yelling for him, calling out his name and asking where he had run off to and what he intended to do with his piano. He grabbed my hand, walked me to the front of the house, and heaps of chaos. 2: You’re Adorable, Micah Berk
October 6, 2015
The Following Year
Miss Kitty said, “I have a surprise for you.”
“What kind of surprise?”
We were in her kitchen, downstairs from the attic, and enjoying morning coffee and pineapple Danishes that she picked up from the local bakery during her morning walk. Miss Kitty was on an exercising kick and was tryingto eat foods that were better for her, minus the martinis she enjoyed every night before bed, and Danishes for breakfast. She sat on one side of the breakfast table positioned between us, and I sat on the other side. The Danishes were delicious, sticky, and soft, just the way we both liked them.
“I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you, Micah. What kind of friend and landlady would I be if I did that?”
I rolled my eyes and said, “I’m twenty-six now and can handle it. Don’t you think I’m too old for surprises?”
She shook her head between bites of Danish and admitted, “We are never too old for surprises, darling. Don’t ever ask that again.”
The conversation changed to the mystery I had gotten published, Red Martini Massacre. Henderson and Reed Publishing had picked up the three hundred page novel and was planning to publish it in hardback the next spring. I was excited about the book, the money I was going to make from it, and was already anticipating positive reviews from the literary critics.
The crime novel was being edited at that time by a New York City editor. Walter Monsieur from Henderson and Reed was currently working on the book. We both had hoped it would be done by the end of November. Professional photographer, Nelson Brodecker, was going to take my photograph for the back of the book near Thanksgiving. My publicist, Rudi Daye, was already arranging book signings for the spring, and a book tour covering surrounding cities. She had hoped that I would also end up on Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Youngstown, Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati, New York City, Boston, and Washington D.C. media stations. Henderson and Reed were planning on sending advanced reading copies of the mystery to literary critics, bookstores, and famous authors for their early reviews. The publishing house had expected that the mystery would do well and was investing lots of promotional cash into it.
“Are you working on a second book?” Miss Kitty asked, white cream cheese icing hung from her upper lip like an icicle, which she licked away with a swipe of her tongue.
I nodded. “It’s another mystery. Something bloody and wild. A very wealthy landlord is murdered by one of her tenants at Niagara Falls. A pianist is the key suspect.”
She raised her eyebrows, knowing that I was talking about her. “Do you plan to murder me, young man?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Of course not. I plan for you to read the book and catch any errors that you can, just as you did for Red Martini Massacre. What do you say, Miss Kitty?”
“I’m going to say that I’m flattered and can’t wait for this project with you to begin.”
* * * *
Miss Kitty’s surprise arrived approximately one hour later. It was sunny and hot, I recall. The temperature was climbing to ninety degrees, and quickly. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the humidity was like fog, thick and unbearable. A blue pickup with a ladder rack pulled up in front of the Tudor. Planks of long oak boards and two ladders were strapped over the truck’s rack, safely tied down with colorful bungees. White lettering on the truck’s doors read: BascoeConstruction. Below the name of the company were an Erie address and a local phone number. A blurb beneath the business information read: Constructing Life for You.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone