Out of Touch Read Free

but there was no time to fetch them. There was no point stopping to look for Spooky, either. It was long past dark.
                  She turned the car’s heat up full blast, causing pins and needles in her frozen fingers. She rubbed them over the dimpled surface of the steering wheel, finding the smooth patches where previous drivers had preferred to grip. Fast food signs made her stomach growl, which meant she really must be hungry. Just thinking about that greasy food made her mouth unpleasantly fuzzy. There was no time for dinner anyway.
                  Pulling into the parking lot at Pronoia International, Sarah saw Reggie’s convertible and paused to glance up at her rear view mirror. Her look tonight was pretty much “drowned rat.”  It wasn’t that Reggie expected her to always look perfect.  He was more likely to be annoyed with her lateness, but she wasn’t sure why it mattered anymore. Originally she’d been on the board because she helped set up the company and might bring in useful social work connections. Now Pronoia’s main project was bringing communications technology to rural Asia and Africa. They offered grants and organizational support to a few U.S. programs, but none that needed Sarah’s assistance. Like a non-digital camera, Sarah grew more and more out-of-place. She remembered Torie’s jibe about her “rich boyfriend” and cringed.
    Tonight she fixed what she could, her hair. One pull of a comb brought back her part; two more pulls smoothed both sides. The shock she hadn’t felt earlier began to hit. Her shoulders tensed and her hand quivered as she put away the comb.
                  The front of Pronoia International was all glass, adding to the strip mall façade of the place. Sarah wiped her feet carefully on the front mat, then checked behind her as she moved to make sure she wasn’t leaving wet tracks on the sherbet-shaded pattern of the carpet. Their meeting was in the open area at the back, where all the furniture and partitions were easily, and frequently, moved. It gave Sarah a never quite settled feeling. She tried to enter quietly, but Reggie’s co-founder, Phil, an older guy with long hair and the presence of an alpha ram, greeted her, “Glad you could make it Sarah. Hope there weren’t any natural disasters blocking your way?”
                  Before thinking, Sarah said, “No, I just stopped to rescue someone from an overturned car.”
                  Full stop. All eyes on Sarah. Why had she said that? She’d successfully played down the event to the paramedics and cops. Did she have some buried need for recognition from her colleagues? Super-Sarah: performs great rescues without letting the world discover her secret powers but still needs acknowledgement from others to boost her self-esteem?
                  Phil gave her the scouring “what does she mean by that?” look that she seemed to trigger so often from older men. Two more reserved committee members just froze with their eyes open a little too wide. Luckily, there was Reggie to break the silence, and the small smile that still managed to paint his whole expression showed Sarah he was relieved to forgive her for being late. “You know, if anyone else said that, I’d think they were joking. From you, it’s a credible excuse.”
                  “Thanks. Would it excuse me from wearing shoes? Mine are soggy.”
                  “Ah, I have just the thing.” Reggie swooped gracefully from his seat to his office across the room. His attitude seemed to spread and all faces around the table relaxed. A moment later he returned, presenting Sarah with a pair of black socks. “Not a glass slipper, but probably warmer.”
                  As Sarah sat down, Reggie knelt before her and began to remove her wet shoes. From anyone else it would seem awkward or overdone, but Reggie had a knack for carrying off