Chapter Twelve


The next day began most unusually. Roger woke up before Rowan. Quietly, so as not to wake her, he meticulously prepared himself for the day.

He chose a dark grey suit, the sort of exquisitely tailored thing meant to impress jaded people. Not a strand of his gleaming black hair was out of place. His silk tie was flawlessly knotted.

Roger Smith had several important errands to run today. Looking as good as possible always seemed to work to his advantage. He smirked at himself in the mirror.

Before leaving, he left Rowan a note saying he'd be back by evening. He blew her sweetly sleeping form a kiss.

Smith's first stop was at his bank to deposit the checks. The pretty blonde teller smiled flirtatiously as he approached her station. The handsome negotiator found this rather interesting, as she'd always ignored him in the past when he enterd in his Military Police uniform. Roger cooly handed her the deposit slip with the two bank checks; blank-faced, he waited to see her reaction.

The girl glanced down, then did a double-take. Her face got pale, then red. She excused herself and sped over to the Head Teller. The two ladies conferred a moment. Then they both looked at Roger, who smiled his most dashing smile at them. Both women blushed, then bolted to the bank president's glass-walled office. Roger couldn't hear them as they spoke in the cubicle, but he could see how excited they were. He laughed quietly to himself, curious to see what would happen next.

The president, a dapper well-spoken man, came out and introduced himself, with much scraping and fawning. Any service the bank could offer Mr. Smith would be at his disposal, the president declared, and at the best rates. The negotiator mentioned that he was thinking of buying some property. The executive's eyes lit up. He assured the grey-suited young man that he would be approved for any amount of mortgaging he might need, at low rates, and no points or penalties, as long as he remained a client of this particular bank.

The president then personally deposited the checks and gave Roger Smith immediate access to the money.

Shaking his head in amazement, Roger smirked as he left the bank. When all he could deposit was his police officer's salary, he'd have to wait a week to touch it, and got treated like dirt as well. Incredible, he reflected, on how money and appearance changed things.

Roger then went to a car dealership Daestar had recommended. She had purchased her Aurora sports car from them, and had found both the salespeople and the car very satisfactory.

Smith liked the way her little car handled. He was considering getting one for himself when he noticed a magnificent black sedan off to one side in the showroom. He asked the salesman what it was.

"It's a Griffon, sir, a top of the line custom job. It's built by the same people who make the Aurora."

Roger nodded, recognizing the name. It was the sort of auto used to transport imporant people. Its standard features included bullet-proofing and built-in defensive gadgets. He couldn't imagine what levels customizing might reach. Essentially it was a luxurious tank. There was nothing safer on the road available to the public.

Roger ran his gloved hand over the mirrorlike black hood. "Would you like to take it for a test drive, sir?" asked the dealer. Roger looked up, surprised. "I thought you said this was a custom job. Doesn't it belong to someone?"

The salesman shook his head no, explaining the buyer had backed out at the last minute. He could probably offer Smith a very good price if he wanted it.

A couple of hours later, Roger Smith was the proud owner of the enormous car. He justified the purchase to himself as being a first step in protecting Rowan. Nothing could hurt her in here. The idea that she would probably prefer to drive her own car somehow never crossed his mind.

Next on his list was a realtor. Roger had noticed a building newly marked for sale near Rowan's apartment. He had been fascinated by the place for several years. He couldn't resist when he saw the "For Sale" sign posted and made an appointment to see it.

The real estate agent met him at the garage. Her eyes widened when she saw the car her new client was driving. Maybe, she thought, I can finally dump this white elephant of a building.

As she showed the furnished place to the handsome young man, she explained its rumored history to him. It had supposedly been the home of a powerful industrialist pre-Event. According to the current owners, there was even a huge factory of some sort hidden away in a sub-basement, but no one could ever find the entrance.

It was a big darkly elegant structure, with a vaguely gothic/art deco feel to it. The master bedroom and living room were on the top floor. They opened onto a gigantic patio, its dramatic view accented by several tall pillars.

Roger could picture Rowan's greenhouse here, filling the space with her beautiful tamed jungle. There was plenty of room for both of them, and more, here. He loved the place. He put down a cash deposit. The realtor waited until he left, then started to jump up and down and shriek in glee.

A visit with Major Dastun was next. This would be a two-fold task, and Roger wasn't sure how Dastun would react to either part.

Dastun had been hearing rumors for a while about a new hot-shot negotiator in town. It hadn't taken him long to figure out who it probably was, and Rowan had finally confirmed his suspicions.

The Mooney/Van der Arc settlement had been front-page news, and while the court-set fees were kept secret, Dastun knew they had to be substantial. He was not surprised when Roger showed up to personally hand in a letter of resignation.

Dan had mixed feelings about losing the young man. It was something he had hoped to prevent. On the other hand, it was clear that Roger was happy with his decision. The major decided to take the high road and wished his ex-lieutenant continued success. "Just don't be a stranger," he said, filing the letter away.

"Well," said Smith, "that brings up the second reason I'm here.' The young man suddenly looked nervous. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead.

Dastun looked at him in surprise. He'd never seen Roger like this, not even when he'd chew him out for some screw-up. "Lt...er, Roger, what's the matter?"

"Dastun," Roger began, then stopped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ran a gloved finger under his shirt collar as if to loosen it, then cleared his throat. He looked down and stuck his hands deep into his pockets. This was much harder than he expected.

Major Dastun watched this performance in astonishment. What the hell was going on? he wondered. "Roger?"

The young man finally met his gaze - he looked awfully pale, the major thought.

"It's about Rowan, Dan. I -"

Dastun interrupted him: "Rowan? Is there something wrong with her? Is she okay?" The major's eyes suddenly widened, then narrowed with anger. He grabbed the lapels of Roger's elegant grey suit. In a tight voice, he demanded, "Did you get her pregnant?"

"NO! Dastun, I'm a gentleman - please!" Roger was startled by Dasstun's vehemence. This was not making things any easier.

Dastun folded his arms. "Roger, I can't take this anymore. Spit it out. This isn't like you at all. What is going on?"

"Look, Dastun, I'm sorry. I've never been in this position before and it's making me a little nervous. Just bear with me, okay?" Roger's handsome face was so earnest that Dastun was tempted to laugh, but didn't. Whatever this was about, it was very important to the young man. He nodded yes.

Smith continued: "Dan, you're the closest person Ro has to a father. I think it is only proper to tell you I intend to ask Rowan to marry me." There. It was out. Roger prepared himself for a verbal explosion.

Major Dastun stood motionless, his mouth open in astonishment. Any second now, thought Roger...only to be shocked when a huge grin crossed the major's face and he grabbed the younger man in a bear hug, almost lifting Roger off his feet.

"This is wonderful - Roger, you have my blessing! Ro could do a lot worse." He vigorously shook Roger's hand. "When are going to ask her?"

"Soon," said Roger. "I just want it to be right."

The major couldn't stop smiling. "Well, this is the best news I've had in a long time. You know, she's talked to me a lot about you. She loves you very much, Roger."

Smith had the grace to blush. "Do you think she'll accept me?"

"If she has any sense, she will. Let me know when you can, okay?" Dastun slapped Roger on the shoulder. "Well, I guess you have things to do, so I'll let you go."

Smith saluted his major one last time, then shook his hand again. "Thanks, Dastun, for everything. This never would have happened without you."

"Nah,' said Dastun, waving him off. "Just name your first kid after me, okay?"

Smith left, a new lightness in his step. There was one last stop to make.

About a month ago, Roger had successfully handled a negotiation for a master jeweler named Robert O'Reilly. In lieu of a monetary fee, O'Reilly had offered to do some custom work as payment. The negotiator had accepted the offer, and asked him to craft three very specific items.

Smith entered O'Reilly's tiny store, which served as both gallery and workshop. A small bell hanging from the door announced his entrance. A low metallic whirring sound coming from the back abruptly stopped, followed by a pleasant masculine voice: "Be right with you, gotta wash some polishing compound off my hands."

Roger looked around at the displays as he waited, admiring the contents within. Each held a miniscule work of art crafted in gems and precious metal. The stones O'Reilly specialized in were not large, but they were perfect.

"Hey, Mr. Smith! Your timing is perfect." Roger turned to face the cheerful O'Reilly, whose toothy grin and flaming red hair seemed to light up the store.

"I finished your order yesterday...let me get 'em out." He returned to the back of the shop and came out with two small red velvet boxes. "Tell me what you think,' the red-haired man said. He loved his craft and took great pride in it. He put the pair on a counter and pushed them towards his client.

Roger opened the larger one first. It contained two slender platinum wedding bands, both matte-finished so that they gleamed softly in the light. Smith took the larger of the two and tried it on, flexing his hand. The ring felt like it belonged there. He smiled and returned it to its mate.

Next Roger opened the smaller box. It held another narrow platinum band, also matte-finished. A square-cut green opal was set flush in the metal, gleaming with every seaish shade of green, turquoise, blue...it was the same color as Rowan's eyes. A random scattering of tiny diamonds burnished into the silvery metal glittered on either side of the opal, flashing bits of rainbow fire. It was very beautiful.

"Look inside the ring," beamed O'Reilly, offering Roger a loupe for a better view. In exquisite calligrahy, the jeweler had engraved the words: "All we have is Now," and a tiny infinity symbol with an "R" in each loop, one forward, one backward, so that they faced each other. When Roger whistled in admiration, O'Reilly told him that the other two rings were engraved in the same way, as Roger had asked.

"This is perfect," the negotiator said, smiling with pleasure. "It's all perfect. The fee for our contract is paid in full as of now." Smith couldn't take his eyes off the engagenment ring. He had not expected to see his request so artfully executed.

The jeweler nodded. "I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Smith. By the way, I like yur taste. I'm sure the young lady will be pleased."

The two men shook hands. Roger tucked the boxes away in his suit jacket. Like Rowan, they were one of a kind.