An Authorized Excerpt
George
pulled up in front of the big, Victorian house at four
o'clock. He shut off the engine and wondered what type of
woman this Lorelei was. When he had called her this morning,
she had known that he had wanted an appointment even before
he had said one word. She had spoken with a thick accent
that he couldn’t quite place. She had immediately mentioned
“his wife”. He wondered if she could read his mind. Maybe
Janice had spoken to her about his problem. That was
probably it.
He took a
deep breath and walked up to the door.
He raised
his hand to knock and…he almost hit the woman in the
forehead. Lorelei had opened the door before his hand had
touched the wood.
"Mister
Stillson," she said. "Come in."
Her
accent didn't match her looks. Lorelei had burnished copper
hair that hung half way down her back. She was at least six
feet tall. He had pictured a tiny, dark woman. Lorelei
didn’t resemble the image he’d had of her in his mind at
all.
The house
wasn't what he expected either. It was done completely in
the Victorian style. Very upscale. No crystal balls in
evidence.
She led
him into what he took as a parlor. "Please sit down," she
said, motioning him to a brocade settee.
George
felt completely out of place. He was more comfortable
sitting in a board room, making deals and juggling
contracts. This made him feel like a fish out of water.
Lorelei
sat on a matching settee directly across from him and
crossed her long, slim legs.
Lorelei
had the most piercing grey eyes. She watched him for a
moment. George shifted in his place on the settee.
"Janice
sent you," she said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes. She
thought that you might be able to help me."
"Help
you. I thought it was your wife that had the problem,
Mr. Stillson."
"It is my
wife. She…" He looked around the room, not wanting to meet
her eyes. It felt like she could see directly inside his
mind. "She's a great woman. I love her dearly."
"But?"
Lorelei asked.
George
looked at the painting that hung above the fireplace. It was
a striking portrait of Lorelei. He forced himself to look
into her eyes. "But, she has a problem."
"With
overeating,” Lorelei said.
"Yes."
How does she know? he thought. Janice must have
called her.
"What
makes you think that this overeating is a problem for her?"
Lorelei folded her elegant hands in her lap and leaned back.
"Well, I
don't know that it is a problem for her. I know that when we
got married, she didn't have the problem, and now she does.
I mean, she's perfect in every other way. Except for the
overeating."
"I think
that maybe the problem is yours." Lorelei cocked her head
toward him.
"Maybe I
shouldn't have come here. I was told that you might be able
to help my wife and me. Maybe I was wrong." He started to
get up to leave.
"Sit
down." It was a command.
George
sat. He didn't know why, but the woman definitely had a
presence.
"Do you
love your wife, Mr. Stillson?"
"Very
much. If I didn't, I'm afraid that I would have ended it
long ago."
Lorelei
watched him for a time, her eyes never leaving his. George’s
right eye started to twitch. He wiped his palms on the legs
of his slacks.
"I think
that I might help you, Mr. Stillson. You realize that there
will be a price?" She raised an eyebrow.
"I'll pay
anything if it works."
"It will
be a high price, I must warn you."
"Anything," George said.
