A Storm in the Desert (On Hold)

Chapter Two

"She's not interested in selling. That was made very clear." 

Jason looked out the massive floor to ceiling window of his office, "Did she say why?" 

"She's an old woman." 

Jason turned and pinned his employee with a look, "That was her reason?" he asked, already knowing the answer. 

The younger man looked away and sighed, "Not in so many words but, trust me, it's the reason."  

"Did you ask her? If that was the reason." 

"I didn't need to, the place reeked of the 70's, the shop was stuffed to the rafters. She doesn't want to leave it. That and she'd probably lose her Amazon if she opened a new shop across town." 

"Amazon?" 

"A beautiful girl, if she'd bother to lose about thirty pounds," Conner said. 

"There isn't anyone else listed on the title, only Doris Walker." 

"Her name was Ames, and she acted like she owned the place." 

Jason opened the file on his desk and shuffled a couple of papers. "Lily Ames, employee." He looked back at Conner, decided he'd gotten all the useless information from him that he could and said, "Why don't you go ahead and get back on the deal with Albertsons. I think I'll go have a talk with Mrs. Walker, myself." 

Conner shrugged, "Suit yourself, but I'm telling you we'll never get that piece of property." 

After he left, Jason walked back to the window and shook his head, stretching his neck. Conner had been with them now for what, seven years. He was a whiz with corporations but a complete waste on a human level. He looked westward out the window and turned back to his desk, he had paperwork to finish before he could track down Doris Walker and her Amazon. Lily Ames, it made him think of her. He pulled the worn card from his pants pocket. Lillian Sandoval. He hadn't had the pants cleaned yet. They sat folded on a shelf in his closet, tiny handprint still intact. He tucked the card back in his pocket and sat down in his chair.  

Just after seven that evening Jason parked his Audi on the street in front of a small bungalow style home built probably in the fifties. It was still hot enough in the evenings that not many children were playing outside. Jason felt the heat on his back as he walked up the sidewalk to the front door. The heat, but none of the warmth. He stepped under the porch into meager shade and rang the doorbell. He tucked his sunglasses in the front of his t-shirt as he waited. Shortly a slim woman opened the door.  

"Mrs. Walker?" 

"Yes?" 

"I'm Jason Christensen; I'm the owner of Sandstone Properties. My employee Conner Jansen met with you earlier today and I believe I owe you an apology." 

Doris contemplated the man for a moment. He looked stern, his blue eyes squinting in the dimness of the house, darkened to keep cool. She stepped back from the door and motioned him inside.  

"Mr. Christensen, how nice to finally meet you." 

Doris closed the door and walked toward the kitchen at the back of the house, "Please come sit down," she said. Doris seated herself at a small table situated by a window overlooking the back yard. Jason noted four children playing in the backyard on a trampoline. 

"Have I come at a bad time?" he asked. 

"No, the grandchildren are usually here in the evenings, they'll be occupied for awhile yet." 

Jason nodded and looked back at the woman. In the unforgiving light from the window, she looked a little older. Her dark hair was sprinkle with gray and her face lined, a little tired by this time of day. She smiled a little at his perusal but said nothing.