A Letter from Paradise, Part 7

    7. Alone Again, Naturally

    I was standing outside the Smoking Curios shop on 33rd Street in New York.
It was closed. The "Out of Business" sign was already in the window. The wagon
had rolled.

    Guess their business is done here.

    When I arrived back at the Columbus airport, Niles was waiting for me. He
informed me that Miss Banning had transferred title to all her assets,
including him, to me. We were not to expect her back. In Niles's bland voice,
the news sounded no more or less momentous than the announcement that dinner
was served.

    Niles had not heard this from Laurie; word had come from her lawyer. As I
later discovered, the lawyer had not heard from her either. The transfer had
all been set up some time ago, in 1985 to be exact, and took effect
automatically on this date. I was well past trying to unravel all the Gordian
Knots.

    Niles drove me to Laurie's house in Laurie's Mercedes (pardon, MY house
and MY Mercedes).
    And here I am friends. Alone. Rich as sin, in a world where everyone
smokes.

    Life stinks.

    Laurie loved me. I know she did. She said so.

    Where is she now? When is she now? What the hell does where or when mean
anymore?

    I lift the battered Zippo to my eyes and shake it gently. I can hear fluid
in it, sloshing back and forth.

    Damn it, Laurie, I'm going to find you! I'm going to find you if it takes
the rest of my life!

    And I will bring you back.

    THE END

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