Rainy Day Stories

Thrice Advice

Natalie rushed out of the apartment knowing she would be late for her luncheon appointment. She knew she was not the most organized person, but she would get up in plenty of time to get ready and would still not arrive on time. The elevator took so long reaching her floor she considered running down the stairs. Somehow negotiating them in a pencil skirt and high heeled boots didn't seem a wise option.

The "ding" of the elevator as its doors slid open was a welcome sound. On the ride down, Natalie had difficulty keeping herself from tapping her foot with impatience. She'd always hated elevators. The elevator stopped its descent. It had only been a minute, but she was positive it had been much longer. As she burst from the confines of the metal torture chamber (aka the elevator), she bumped into a well-dressed man in a suit.

"Slow down, missy. You might hurt yourself," the gentleman grumbled. Natalie attempted a little smile which faltered under the narrowed eyes and critical gaze of the man.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I'm in a bit of a rush. Not a very good excuse. Sorry, again." And, she was off again, the tick-tick-ticking of her mental clock increased her panic. Another five minutes lost hailing a cab, and she pulled out her cell phone hoping at least to leave a message for her husband's aunt. She'd never met her, but Clyde spoke well of his aunt. When she didn't get connected to her, Natalie began to perspire. If only her antiperspirant would work as promised in the advertisements.

"It isn't looking too good right now, lady." The cabbie glanced back at her and then forward at the row upon row of cars, yellow cabs and miscellany vehicles at a complete standstill ahead.

"How far is the restaurant from here?" She glanced at her watch. Oh, no. This cannot happen.

"About two or three blocks." The cab driver honked his horn joining in with the melee of horns, raised voices and the blare of radios.

"I'm going to get out here. How much do I owe you?" Natalie started digging through her purse for her wallet. Another glance at her watch, she was now 10 minutes late. She quickly pulled out some bills from her wallet handing them off as she was opening the door of the cab.

The sound of metal hitting metal and a torrent of curses made her gasp. Lying on the ground next to her open door was a bicyclist surrounded by paperwork that had spilled from his messenger bag with the fall.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Natalie grimaced as she held out her hand offering assistance to the disgruntled young man.

"Slow down, lady. You might get hurt. Or, hurt someone else." The bike messenger chastised her with a growl and a scowl. She helped pick up the paperwork apologizing the whole time. Thank goodness he wasn't badly hurt and his bike undamaged.

By the time she reached the restaurant, her silk blouse was sticking to her back. She ran into the restaurant to the mortification of the hostess at the reservation desk. Another glance at her watch, twenty-five minutes late...

She was shown to her table and seated was the sweetest looking older woman she'd ever seen. Natalie hurried towards the table and tripped over her own feet. Embarrassed and humiliated, she got to her feet brushing off her skirt.

"Slow down, missy. You might hurt yourself." The white-haired matron offered her sage advice. "You must be Natalie. I'm Clyde's aunt. You can call me, Miss Lydia."