This would have been up yesterday, but the #$%ing server was down. Did y'all miss me?

Their first meeting ended poorly. Will matters improve between Rainey and Nadine?
(Standard disclaimer still applies.)

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For the next couple weeks, Mort kept to himself -- nothing new there! -- and determinedly continued to pound away at his dog of a novel. It didn't get any better. He was glaring at the laptop on a mid-October morning, when a yoo-hoo from the other side of his open front door brought him upright in his chair. He clattered downstairs to find Nadine Cooper standing there with a large brown paper sack. Mindful of Shooter's injunction to be polite, he opened the door for her. "Hi, there."

"That little produce stand up the road had some nice apples, so I grabbed a bunch, thought you might like a few."

"That's really nice of you." Mort took the bag from her and set it down on the kitchen table.

"How's it going?" she asked, making a little hand gesture that suggested typing.

"Words fail me."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Oh sure, let me tell you all about my divorce, my mental breakdown, and the bodies buried in my backyard. That'll be a real fun chat. "Right now, I can't find my thesaurus; I'm lost without it."

"Y'know, they have software -- "

"I want my thesaurus!" He caught the tone of his own words and consciously lowered his voice. "THAT thesaurus. I've had it ever since ninth grade english. I NEED that thesaurus."

She nodded solemnly. "What are you looking for a word for?"

Mort sighed. "At the moment, I'm trying to find a classy way of saying the guy's pissed off."

"Angry," she said promptly. "Livid, furious, torqued, steamed, hot and bothered, going postal --"

Steamed. Rainey thought of the confrontation scene in the restaurant kitchen, the one with his hero and Stavros, the pivotal scene that just didn't work. What if there was a big pot of water boiling on the stove, with steam coming off it? What if Stavros grabbed it and threw it at Peter? That would really mess him up, he'd have to give up searching for the diamonds, at least until he'd recovered.

"You're brilliant!" he blurted, and ran for the stairs.

The laptop keys rattled as they hadn't rattled for months, and they were still going at a good clip a few minutes later when Nadine ascended the stairs. Rainey barely noticed the apple that came to rest beside his monitor, was completely oblivious as the woman sat down in the old armchair with a book and an apple of her own.

Forty-five minutes later, he came up for air, considering some of the plot consequences of what he was about to do. He noticed the apple for the first time and blinked. Turning his head, he saw her sitting with a book in Amy's favorite chair. (She doesn't look like Amy, she doesn't look anything like Amy, it's just that she's sitting in that chair where I'm used to seeing...HER.) Nadine glanced up from the volume and met his gaze. "Did that help?"

Rainey smiled tentatively. "That helped a lot. I may be able to save this turkey yet."

"Good."

"I don't deserve it. I was a real jackass -- "

She waved a hand. "I told you -- forget it. Past is past."

"So how are things going for you?"

"Shoot, half the reason I'm here is, I'm putting off sitting down to write the next scene. I finally figured out who my killer really is, and it's the last person I wanted it to be. I LIKE that character!"

Rainey understood that. You started writing, and you thought you knew where the plot was going -- then all of a sudden, things veered off into the world of weirdness. "Rough," he sympathized.

"Hey, Rainey, while I've got your attention, free associate on something for me. What comes into your mind when I say barn?"

"Barn? Uh, red. Cows, horses, hay, hayloft, straw, scarecrows, pitchforks, overalls, tractors, farmers -- "

Nadine made a little noise and snatched a pen out of her hair, looking around with a panic-stricken expression on her face. Rainey, who knew exactly what that sound and that look meant, was already reaching into the desk drawer. She caught the yellow legal pad he tossed to her in mid-air, and began to scribble frantically.

Mort regarded her for a few moments, her head bent over the tablet, intent on putting words down on paper. He looked over at the screen, smiled to himself. His hero was about to start suffering for real.

Shifting in his chair, Mort began to write.

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Next: Things heat up between Nadine and John Shooter!

Thanks, Dawnie-7, Pen D. Fox and Raphe1 for your ongoing support. captain-jill-loon, that's exactly what I was going for: smack Mort, hmm, this "other" guy is pretty cool. (I have more fun writing Shooter, I confess. He's so dark and dangerous...Mort's just neurotic -- but at least he's writing again.)

Stay tuned for the next thrilling, and I DO mean thrilling installment....