Change in Plans

We came out into our front lawn and saw Mr. Harris sipping his morning tea and reading the newspaper in his verandah. Mr. Harris is my seventy-year-old (his birthday was last month- I know cause he sent me a batch of chocolate mud cupcakes in return for my bottle of Sauvignon Blanc) next-door neighbor. We have never talked much. But he seems like an insouciant old man who is not bothered by what is happening around him, though he would readily help you whenever you need him. I remember this once when I accidentally hit his car in the back one night. He was all smiles about it. He just laughed it off over the fact of women being terrible drivers (we are not, I KNOW! But I wasn't in any position to protest as I did prove him right in some way) and allowed me to take his car for repairing the following Sunday. 'Thank you, Rhythm dear. It was not needed. Though you did save me the task of taking the car myself.' He said, beaming while I returned him the car keys. 'No problem, Mr. Harris. It was something that I was responsible for after what I did to your car.' I scrunched my nose. He roared with laughter, then patted me on the shoulder and walked back to his porch, where he sits every day. Mr. Harris slightly raised his head when he saw me passing by his porch. He waved at me and looked back immediately into the newspaper to avoid any awkwardness caused due to prolonged eye contact; I also turned my head and looked straight. Yes, that's our routinely morning meeting. I like him. I had my resentments about cranky old neighbors, but Mr. Harris is nothing like that. He comes across as a happygo-lucky man contented with his life and wants to make the best out of every moment until the very end. I was about to turn around the corner of the street when my cellphone rang. It was Mr. Braun, my boss. I received the call. 'Miss Dobson,' He said in his modulated voice, 'apologies for calling you at this hour in the morning. But it is urgent.' Mr. Braun is a man of principle. He is polite, gentle, and very respectful towards women and almost everyone who does not want to get on his wrong side. A man of diplomacy, he spills calculated words. I've witnessed him tactfully deal with our company clients and managers; it's impressive to watch him put in years of experience. Learning never stops by his side. 'What do you need, sir?' 'Mr. Nelson met with an accident while returning home from work yesterday.' He finished with a sigh. 'Oh! How did it all happen?' I exclaimed in shock; that was quick. Carter Nelson is one of my colleagues and one of the oldest friends of Mr. Braun in the company. One could make out how upset he would have been delivering this disturbing news. However, the man has a way of veiling his frailty with an authoritative voice and a sanguine nature. Sometimes I don't understand how he does it all. I consider him to be a one-of-a kind leader who knows how to avoid breaking the spirit of his lot in times of tribulation.

'I refrained from asking any details because his wife clearly seemed to be shaken by the incident, but he is in bad shape.' He implied. 'His car slipped and crashed into a tree trunk; that is what I know as of now. I'll be going to visit him later this morning. Before that, Miss Dobson, Mr. Nelson had been scheduled to meeting an important client in New York today. I need you to go there in his place.' NEW YORK. I am so down. 'Alright, sir.' I was so excited. 'Very well then. I've made all the arrangements for your travel, and the flight is at 9.30 a.m. After reaching New York City, you will be going straight to the Ames Association. After a brief meeting, check-in at Four Seasons, and tomorrow you will be back to L.A. I'll send you all the necessary details and papers regarding the meeting and your travel along with a company car that will come to receive you at 8.30 a.m.' 'Sure, sir' I gave Disco some time to complete his morning walk. After that, I rushed home to get ready. As I passed Mr. Harris' house in much less time than usual, I could feel his bewildered gaze follow my motion. I shuffled in my towel as I tried to figure out what I should be wearing and what I should carry. I didn't have much time, so I neatly tossed my traveling kit (my makeup and toiletries well set in a small handbag for any emergency travel), a nightdress, a formal baby pink dress for the visit, backups, backups of the backup, some heels, accessories, a small complementing clutch, my curling iron and the outfit that I was going to wear before for the next day, in a small Louis Vuitton suitcase. How ironic? I KNOW! I don't understand how it fits so many things, but it does, and as for the lot of things that I was carrying, I don't particularly appreciate taking chances. After packing all the stuff, I quickly changed into something comfortable for the journey. Disco was tottering about the entire time, getting things at times. He's an intelligent dog and impressively energetic. Sometimes I feel how handicapped and lonely I'd be if I didn't have him around to keep me company. I called Uncle Steve, who lives about eight miles away, to pick disco up for the day. He is my only family in L.A. He has a son who lives with his wife and kids in Georgia. Uncle Steve and his wife, we meet up quite often over dinners. Both of them are charming and helpful. Not long before my car arrived, I said goodbyes to my dog. 'Mamma loves you. Will meet you soon. Bye,' I kissed him between his eyes, and he tried licking my neck. I locked the door behind me and got into the car. Uncle Steve already has a spare key. He'll arrive to receive Disco soon enough.