Time Enough for Love Read Free Page B

dry. And she
had
received an invitation to the annual Thanksgiving party at Data Tech. She’d already decided to go to the Tuesday-night affair, to schmooze with her new clients and to sniff around and see if there were any other potential projects requiring her talents.
    “You won’t meet me,” Chuck told her. “At least not exactly. You’ll meet my younger self—Charles. Dr. Charles Della Croce.”
    “Your
younger
self …” Maggie had to laugh. “Of course. If you’re from the future, then it stands to reason that there’s another you—a younger you—running around somewhere.”
    He didn’t crack a smile. “Look, I know this sounds crazy to you.”
    “Well, there you go,” Maggie said. “We’ve finally agreed on something.”
    “I really need your help.”
    “Chuck, you need help—that’s for
sure
, but I’m not the one who can give it to you.” Silently shecursed herself for not just turning and walking away. Instead she sat down across from him again, knowing she was going to kick herself over and over as she was forced to work late into the night to make up for this lost time. “Let me make some phone calls, call a few friends, find you a doctor who can—”
    His fingers started drumming impatiently on the table again. “Nostradamus,” he said suddenly.
    “Excuse me?”
    Chuck realized he was doing it again. He was tapping his fingers, and he stilled them, consciously trying hard to rein in his impatience. “You called me Nostradamus,” he told Maggie, gripping the edge of the table instead. “And you’re right—I know your future. All I have to do is remember something … I don’t know, some newsworthy event that happened after November twentieth this year.”
    Maggie closed her eyes as she pressed one hand against her forehead, as if she had a headache. She sighed and opened her eyes again. “I’m going to have to go,” she said again. “I can’t worry about where you’re going to spend the night or what you’re going to eat or—”
    “There was a plane crash,” Chuck suddenly remembered. “I think it was November. Yes—it was about a week before Thanksgiving. It hasn’t happened yet, has it?”
    Maggie threw her hands into the air. “Jeez, I don’t know. Maybe. Where was it? A private plane went down a few days ago in the Rockies.”
    “No,” Chuck said. “This was major. This was a commercial flight out of New York, heading to London. A terrorist’s bomb went off when the plane came in for a landing. It was awful—hundreds of people died.”
    Maggie pushed back her chair and stood up, opening her purse one more time. “God knows I can’t afford this, but …” She put another two twenties on the table. “Stay someplace warm tonight, Chuck. And think about getting some help.”
    He picked up the money and held it out to her. “Maggie, I don’t need this. Honestly. I’ve got access to a bank account.”
    But Maggie was backing away. “Good-bye, Chuck.”
    “I’ll be here at Tia’s, every afternoon at this time.” He didn’t raise his voice to call after her, but it carried to her just the same. “If you change your mind, you can find me here in the bar.”
    Maggie pushed open the door and stepped out into the late-afternoon heat, resisting the urge to turn one last time and look back.

TWO
    I T WAS AFTER five o’clock on Friday when Maggie finished her meeting with the Data Tech vice-presidents. There were four of them, and each had had his own idea about how the company’s current prospectus should be written.
    Working for more than one boss was a potential nightmare, but she’d learned a long time ago simply to smile, nod, take notes—and then write the darn thing the way
she
envisioned it. She’d give each of them an individual call to tell them how she’d incorporated their personal suggestions into her final draft. With any luck, everyone would be happy.
    More than one of the VPs had hinted that if thisproject went well, she’d be