Knightless in Seattle
Nichole
"I swear this ending gets me every time," Nikki sniffled, and
wiped teary eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Even if it is the third
time I've watched it this week."
The strains of Lerner and Loewe's "Camelot Reprise"
swelled and faded as the movie credits began to roll up the
screen.
She sighed and bent her head over her knitting, counting
carefully as she focused on the delicate lacy pattern she was creating.
"There's just something about knights in shining armor and chivalry
and castles. So romantic. Except for the part where Guinevere
becomes a nun." Nikki shuddered. "What was she thinking, giving up
that hottie, Lancelot?"
"Meow." Samantha, Sammy for short, replied from where
she crouched at the foot of the padded rocking chair on the other
side of the lamp Nikki was knitting by.
"I know, I know, it's going to make me drop a stitch and I've
got to get this done tonight for Jackie. I told her to come first thing in
the morning and get her birthday gift." She glanced down at the cat,
and shook her head. "I wish I knew what you find so fascinating
about that chair, Sammy. Kinda gives me the creeps sometimes, not
gonna lie."
Sammy tucked her front paws under her chest in what Nikki
called her loaf-of-bread position, and purred. She never took her
attention from the rocking chair.
"There." Nikki tied off the yarn and laid down her knitting
needles. She held up her work to inspect it. "Not bad, if I do say so
myself."
Sammy purred louder in agreement.
"You know, Jackie doesn't come off like a girly-girl, but I
have a feeling she's really going to like these gloves." Nikki laid her
work carefully over the arm of her chair, yawned and flicked the off
button on the remote. "Let's go to bed, Sammy. It's really late."
She stood and turned off the antique Tiffany floor lamp
she'd received several weeks ago as a surprise inheritance from the
Italian grandmother she'd never met. Glancing behind as she headed
down the hall, she saw Sammy rise, stretch, and then pad silently
after her.
She crawled into bed, and was asleep almost as soon as her
head hit the pillow.
In the darkened living room, the rocking chair began to
move silently.
* * * *
Jackie
The tingling sensation running up and down her arms was
so distracting that Jackie totally missed the first hiccup of her failing
engine.
"No! No! Nooo! " She pumped the gas pedal
desperately as the car sputtered, pinged and coughed. "Come on, we
can do this baby."
But her battered Civic only coasted to an inevitable stop. A
mere half a block ahead, the lights at the gas station pumps taunted
her through the Seattle drizzle.
With a resigned sigh, she shoved the gearstick into park,
turned off the engine, and laid her forehead on the backs of her
hands where she gripped the top of the steering wheel. It was her
own fault. She had no one else to blame.
Leave it to her to run out of gas first thing on a Saturday
morning, on her way into work. On her birthday, no less. How
pathetic was that? She needed some lessons in how to "Just Say No,"
especially to her boss. She couldn't help but notice that she was the
only one at Ernest, Ernest and Cope Architects he ever called with all
of his last minute must-have's. Likely everyone else had gotten wise
to him years ago.
So here she was, responding to another late Friday night call
to go into the office on the weekend. This time it was to prepare for a
surprise "Team Building" event that he just remembered to tell her
would be held first thing Monday morning.
One of these days--hopefully soon--all her hard work would
pay off, and her boss would finally recognize that she was the best
choice for her dream job of office manager.
Well, career goals were one thing, but birthdays were
another thing entirely. Even she deserved some small corner
of the day for herself, which was why she had ignored the yellow
light warning her that she was running on fumes and swung by her
best friend Nikki's house first to pick
Nichole
"I swear this ending gets me every time," Nikki sniffled, and
wiped teary eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Even if it is the third
time I've watched it this week."
The strains of Lerner and Loewe's "Camelot Reprise"
swelled and faded as the movie credits began to roll up the
screen.
She sighed and bent her head over her knitting, counting
carefully as she focused on the delicate lacy pattern she was creating.
"There's just something about knights in shining armor and chivalry
and castles. So romantic. Except for the part where Guinevere
becomes a nun." Nikki shuddered. "What was she thinking, giving up
that hottie, Lancelot?"
"Meow." Samantha, Sammy for short, replied from where
she crouched at the foot of the padded rocking chair on the other
side of the lamp Nikki was knitting by.
"I know, I know, it's going to make me drop a stitch and I've
got to get this done tonight for Jackie. I told her to come first thing in
the morning and get her birthday gift." She glanced down at the cat,
and shook her head. "I wish I knew what you find so fascinating
about that chair, Sammy. Kinda gives me the creeps sometimes, not
gonna lie."
Sammy tucked her front paws under her chest in what Nikki
called her loaf-of-bread position, and purred. She never took her
attention from the rocking chair.
"There." Nikki tied off the yarn and laid down her knitting
needles. She held up her work to inspect it. "Not bad, if I do say so
myself."
Sammy purred louder in agreement.
"You know, Jackie doesn't come off like a girly-girl, but I
have a feeling she's really going to like these gloves." Nikki laid her
work carefully over the arm of her chair, yawned and flicked the off
button on the remote. "Let's go to bed, Sammy. It's really late."
She stood and turned off the antique Tiffany floor lamp
she'd received several weeks ago as a surprise inheritance from the
Italian grandmother she'd never met. Glancing behind as she headed
down the hall, she saw Sammy rise, stretch, and then pad silently
after her.
She crawled into bed, and was asleep almost as soon as her
head hit the pillow.
In the darkened living room, the rocking chair began to
move silently.
* * * *
Jackie
The tingling sensation running up and down her arms was
so distracting that Jackie totally missed the first hiccup of her failing
engine.
"No! No! Nooo! " She pumped the gas pedal
desperately as the car sputtered, pinged and coughed. "Come on, we
can do this baby."
But her battered Civic only coasted to an inevitable stop. A
mere half a block ahead, the lights at the gas station pumps taunted
her through the Seattle drizzle.
With a resigned sigh, she shoved the gearstick into park,
turned off the engine, and laid her forehead on the backs of her
hands where she gripped the top of the steering wheel. It was her
own fault. She had no one else to blame.
Leave it to her to run out of gas first thing on a Saturday
morning, on her way into work. On her birthday, no less. How
pathetic was that? She needed some lessons in how to "Just Say No,"
especially to her boss. She couldn't help but notice that she was the
only one at Ernest, Ernest and Cope Architects he ever called with all
of his last minute must-have's. Likely everyone else had gotten wise
to him years ago.
So here she was, responding to another late Friday night call
to go into the office on the weekend. This time it was to prepare for a
surprise "Team Building" event that he just remembered to tell her
would be held first thing Monday morning.
One of these days--hopefully soon--all her hard work would
pay off, and her boss would finally recognize that she was the best
choice for her dream job of office manager.
Well, career goals were one thing, but birthdays were
another thing entirely. Even she deserved some small corner
of the day for herself, which was why she had ignored the yellow
light warning her that she was running on fumes and swung by her
best friend Nikki's house first to pick
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