TITLE: The Miser Who Bought The Farm
I’m embarrassed to admit my most vivid memory of that night was of ten minutes in the library with Nick Ransom. In my defense, three of those minutes were damn good minutes and I had no idea the murder of a colleague was only a few hours away.
I was taking refuge from the well-dressed and well-heeled at a party for the Ballantyne Foundation when Ransom eased into the library. I recognized his smooth skin and edgy features. He looked like Batman. Christian Bale Batman, not the other one in the gray leotard and blue underpants.
“Ellie Lisbon,” he said and kissed my cheek. “I’d heard you were Director of the Ballantyne.”
“Well, Nick Ransom,” I said. “How disappointing. I thought you were dead.”
He leaned back on his heels and smiled. “No, not dead yet. Though a sniper in Rio came close.”
I smiled back, but my stomach sizzled and popped as old memories flipped my life like a pancake. I was unprepared and nearly speechless.
Nick Ransom, my college major. I loved him for one whole semester. We rounded three bases over five dates and would’ve slid home on the sixth had he not left me waiting in the rain a week before Christmas. He left a seven word message on my answering machine two days later: “Not our time, Red. You take care.” I never saw him again.