Love Unlimited

By Michelle Tschantre'

Ed Long resented being “used” by anyone, and when it happened again, he loaded his truck, and set out for his parent’s distant home. Holed up for the evening, an ad in a local paper caught his eye and a day later he was working for Walter Short, owner of Precision Machine Specialties. A few days later, Ed’s sharp eye caught the sudden change in Walt’s appearance, and a fatal heart attack was averted. Walt’s LA-based daughter, Sydney Short, was having her own bad day. Once again credit and recognition due her were usurped by a vice-president and there was nothing she could do about it. Worse, she got a call from Ed Long; her father had suffered a serious heart attack and would most likely need surgery. The call between Ed and Syd was tense, but when she arrived in Conyerville late at night, still nearly ten miles from her father’s house, Ed Long met her, put her luggage into his truck, closed her door when she got in, and in the dark of night she rode away with a man she had never met. She asked for no ID and would later question her own sanity. Would her resentment over her professional treatment carry over against Ed, and would he stay around long enough to see that happen? How about that heart attack Walt Short had weathered; how would it change his life? And then there was the call to Syd from a major corporate player. Would she take the bait? What does the IRS want anyway?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Tschantre'
• Release date: Nov 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370917617

Michelle Tschantre'

Michelle Tschantre' has accrued years of "people" lore, mostly listening and encouraging, letting them find their own way past whatever issue prompted the conversation. The WINDMERE Series of fictional events uses some of those experiences, a little science here and there, some reality now and then, a belief that there may be powers greater than we know, and an everlasting belief in good outcomes for good hearted people. It is what the author has come to believe over the years: plan for the worst, hope for the best, deal with the reality. In “Laura's Big Win”, the foundation is built for the books that have followed, with some of the same people, some new faces and problems, and Windmere in there somewhere keeping it all going.

Book preview

Love Unlimited

WINDMERE series – book nine

Michelle Tschantré

Smashwords Edition

Love Unlimited

Copyright © 2017 Michelle Tschantré

All rights reserved.

Cover Design & Formatting by: Laura Shinn Designs

http://laurashinn.yolasite.com

Smashwords License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this ebook without purchasing it and it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Love Unlimited is a work of fiction.

Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Any resemblance of characters in this story to any person living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Dedicated to:

… the premise that life may place before you immoveable barriers,

but love remains the irresistible force.

CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

About the Author

Preface

Ed Long resented being used by anyone, and when it happened again, he loaded his truck, and set out for his parent’s distant home. Holed up for the evening, an ad in a local paper caught his eye and a day later he was working for Walter Short, owner of Precision Machine Specialties. A few days later, Ed’s sharp eye caught the sudden change in Walt’s appearance, and a fatal heart attack was averted. Walt’s LA-based daughter, Sydney Short, was having her own bad day. Once again credit and recognition due her were usurped by a vice-president and there was nothing she could do about it. Worse, she got a call from Ed Long; her father had suffered a serious heart attack and would most likely need surgery. The call between Ed and Syd was tense, but when she arrived in Conyerville late at night, still nearly ten miles from her father’s house, Ed Long met her, put her luggage into his truck, closed her door when she got in, and in the dark of night she rode away with a man she had never met. She asked for no ID and would later question her own sanity. Would her resentment over her professional treatment carry over against Ed, and would he stay around long enough to see that happen? How about that heart attack Walt Short had weathered; how would it change his life? And then there was the call to Syd from a major corporate player. Would she take the bait? What does the IRS want anyway?

Chapter One – Road Trip

Good morning; I’m Ed Long. Are you the Mr. Short I talked to a few minutes ago? That’s how the first day of the rest of Ed Long’s life started out. There had been no particular hurry making the road trip to the coast and Ed didn’t much care when he actually arrived at his parent’s home for a visit. They were aware he was heading their way, making his path as he saw fit, and knew their son intended to take his time, take a break from work, then find something else to do in his preferred line of work. Now in his early 30’s, he had graduated college at age 22 with a degree in mechanical engineering design and was hired virtually before the ink was dry on his diploma. A few years designing things that were all starting to look alike and he decided it was time to change, maybe find something with some challenge to his abilities yet which took advantage of his existing education. The local junior college had answered that question in the form of a course on Computerized Numerical Control machine tool operation, commonly called CNC in the field of specialty machining. He finished the course at the top of his class, all the while continuing to earn a living doing design work. CNC ticket in hand, he went next to a company that did some aerospace work and similar tasks, daunting work for a run of the mill novice but not feared by someone with confidence in their own abilities. That position lasted several years, paid really well and had benefits commensurate to the pay level. But, the company finally figured out why he was so good at CNC work: he was actually a degreed engineer who understood the design concept before ever starting the machine language programming. With that knowledge, the company tended to load on tangled projects others weren’t able to decipher and complete, but with no significant bump in pay. Ed didn’t mind for a while as the projects were interesting to do and stimulated his intellect. The problem started when the economy slowed a bit, the custom work load slacked off and some junior staffers were let go; their more mundane tasks were booted up the hill and once again he found himself doing the routine in lieu of the challenging. His careful living and dearth of expensive habits had left him with a significant bank account, no debts beyond the current month on his favorite credit card, and a four-by-four topper covered pickup truck that needed exercise. His more than required thirty day notification resignation was tendered, resulting in too little/too late ineffective pleading by his employer; in spite of the proffered significant raise and increased benefits, in Ed’s mind it was already ended. With his accumulated belongings in storage, he headed across the country to go see his parents, job shop here and there, maybe visit some people he knew along the way, following a rather meandering sort of path.

With a basic goal in mind, he often followed less travelled roads between interstate highways, sometimes running the interstate for a few miles, then veering off again to go see some sight, real or perceived, sometimes just because the name of a town sounded interesting. For fine dining, he followed an old tradition his father claimed was true: find a local tavern with a couple of neon beer signs in the windows and a gaggle of trucks with ladder racks in the parking lot for lunch. The contention was that trades people could dine wherever they so choose, and if they chose that place it had to be because it served good food. The theory held up for the most part, and was extended to a nights lodging as well. There were a few days when he barely made two hundred miles, others when he flew along, but still not in a hurry. This particular night he had turned off the interstate at an exit ramp into a small town, recognizing his favorite hotel logo and understanding it would be a smaller version of the usual but just as nice, and the staff would know the best place in town for an evening meal. Besides, there were some TV shows he had developed a mild addiction toward; no sense missing those. He had been right about the fine dining chances, and now with a comfortably full belly, a refreshing well chilled adult beverage in hand from his small cooler, and some time to pass before the first show came on, he scanned the want ads in the free copy of the local newspaper.

Wanted: CNC/NC machinist for local shop; pay and benefits commensurate with experience and production. Welding ability desired but not a stopper. Custom work design ability a must. Call Walt Short at Precision Machine Specialties for interview.

There was a local phone number, quickly verified when Ed ran the company name for additional data, discovering it was indeed local and only a mere five or six blocks from his room. Maybe it was just idle curiosity, but after indulging at the hotel’s free breakfast bar, he called the number, talked to Walt, and walked into the man’s office fifteen minutes later for an hour of sit down interview, several cups of well brewed coffee, shop tour, and a job offer. Walt Short’s physical features did not fit his name at all, not with a six foot four inch frame, maybe 250 pounds at a minimum; his hands showed the signs of a man who had used them a lot, yet this day were not oily, at least not at the moment. The ad was the result of something Walt had done almost spur of the moment, certainly not an inexpensive move, but without a clear path ahead. He was familiar with CNC programming and the shop did have an older machine of that ilk but nothing truly up to date; he had gone to the auction sale of a machine shop that had some serious tax issues and was selling out the entire place, where he had purchased the much newer system on a sudden urge to bid. The entire system was now sitting on his shop floor, unproductive, not even connected, essentially costing money by being out of service. Walt had to admit to himself what others already knew: there was no one at the shop who could run the new machine, probably even get it safely turned on. And then the phone rang, and Ed followed in person.

Yes, sir; I’m Walter Short; just call me Walt. Now, what can I do for you, young fella? This about that ad we ran in the paper?

It is about the ad. I’m sort of between employments at the moment, by my own choice; I’m not stressed about finding anything real soon, but I can always stand to learn something and your ad got my attention. I do have CNC experience, but do not weld at all; maybe next time I get around a junior college I can try that trade as well. Anyway, my CNC knowledge is pretty much up to date, varied by machine manufacture of course, but all of them have some similar characteristics. May I ask some details on what you have in mind?

Walt was getting a warm feeling talking to this man across the desk from him. The newspaper ad had been running about ten days; two others had come in for interviews but there was no comparison to this man looking at him, none. Where the others had seemed a bit unsure, maybe a tad nervous, this Ed Long seemed about as calm as could be, assured in his position in life, and comfortable in his ability to perform any task he accepted. Time to learn more. I don’t want to mislead you; we do have a CNC machine on the floor, but I’ll be real truthful here: this is an old shop, and I think it safe to say the machinists who work here were employed well before anyone actually thought up CNC programming. I have only myself to blame for the current situation, if there is any blame to be handed out. Couple towns over there was a fairly new shop, good sized place and pretty modern from what I learned; they didn’t hurt us any, probably because of the travel distance. Anyway, they were doing some bootleg work turning disc brake rotors, things like that; when that customer got run in, he ratted them out, probably in a heartbeat to try and save his own skin. Then the IRS arrived, search warrant in hand, and the whole place went belly up. The IRS put it up for auction to reclaim what they could, I went to see what they had for sale, and when this particular CNC machine came up for bid just no one wanted it. I put in a pretty low bid for the fun of it, and won; I’d guess maybe others were afraid of the thing for some reason or other. Anyway, here I sit with a useless piece of machinery, not a lot of money tied up in it, and I guess I’m trying to salvage something at the end of the day. I’d understand if you just walk out, knowing this machine is several years old and probably well below your expectations. So, are we still having a conversation?

Ed heard the comments and realized what Walt was telling him was quite probably very true as concerned the CNC operating software. In some respects the older models could be more reliable, had many fewer bells and whistles to account for, and were therefore less susceptible to glitches that snapped bits and erred in unacceptable ways. Walt had told him the actual equipment was on site but not in service; this could be interesting, maybe only for a few days challenge getting this up and running, but it had the potential to be fun for a man of Ed’s demeanor and outlook on life; besides, there were some other things on the past evenings fine dining menu that looked interesting and a visit in this town held some promise. I believe we are still having a conversation. Just so you know, I left my former employer as a matter of principle rather than for financial reasons. Because I have a degree in mechanical engineering design along with my CNC training, I can maybe see things in a bit of a different light. I’m not saying I’m better, just different. My former employer was putting more and more of the routine work on me after they had to reduce staff a bit, while at the same time expecting me to solve problems for them. I know this sounds like I’m some sort of a prima donna malcontent, but had they come to me and recognized my abilities instead of waiting until they knew I was about to leave to wave their checkbook in front of me, I might still be there. As it was, I felt a bit used, and out the door I went. I will admit at this time yesterday I was not looking very hard to find a job, and I can get along nicely for some time before I really need to go back to work, but your ad interested me and here I am. Can we go take a look at what you bought before we spend a lot more time talking about things?

Sure, by all means. I appreciate you being up front with me, so I’ll also be up front by telling you right now this place doesn’t pay as well as the big city folks. On the other hand, living expenses in this town run well below big city expenses. What my daughter pays for her place in LA would pay for two or three nice houses here. Let’s take a walk.

The machinery was maybe two software generations old, but Ed was familiar with the specific brand and recognized the equipment itself to be in good condition. It was sitting on shipping pallets in a storeroom, owner’s manuals in a big box on top of the case. There was also another large pile of things that went unaddressed in the storage room, maybe something else acquired at the auction. For the moment the CNC machine was of more importance. As the two walked around the equipment Ed pointed out the connections to be made, utilities needed, where extra space was needed for later ease of access, and in short told Walt everything he needed to know to activate the equipment for machining parts. Walt was right about the pay scale, but Ed could live with it for a while in that he would be revenue negative for the most part until the CNC machine was up and running. The two went to lunch together, and by 1 PM Ed was on the clock and doing discovery on the support utility work that would need to be done. Walt had a reference number for an area realtor if Ed wanted to start finding some digs less expensive than the hotel room for the duration. That night he called his parents to let them know he would not be visiting for the foreseeable future, telling them he had a new although probably temporary job of some duration at the moment, and was having a good time. Disconnected from the call home, Ed turned back to the tech manuals on the CNC machine, a device with which he would build a quasi-social as well as technical knowledge base; such is the nature of engineers. Two days later, he moved into a nice semi-furnished apartment the realtor had recommended to him; located over a four car garage, he had access to one of the parking bays, the rent was more than reasonable, and the elderly lady from whom he was renting brought a plate of warm cookies to him as he was moving in. On the surface it might not have seemed like much of a life, but to Ed Long it was exciting to be working where he had virtually a free hand, doing something he really liked, the apartment was a bit larger than his former apartment for much less money, the cookies were really good, and his new landlady had suggested there might be things around the place he could do to help offset the rent. Ed Long was a happy man.

It would take a few days working with some contractors to get the CNC utilities in place, connected, ready to power up, and that moment of truth when he hit the START switch for the first time. Things lit up, as did Ed, now residing in a work space in the office area where he could do the control programming. Things were going well.

Chapter Two – Ceiling Dents

In LA, Sydney Denise Short arose at 5 AM and readied herself for the day ahead. If she hurried and got out the door by 6 AM she could take maybe twenty minutes off her morning commute to her office. Leave five minutes later and the time would expand at an exponential rate until it would be mid-morning before she arrived at work. It was also true that what had started out as an interesting and fun career had slowly morphed into actual work by definition. Her college days netted her a degree in marketing, followed by two years in the work force, two more years for a master’s degree, then back into the labor force. She had changed jobs a couple of times, preceded by a recruiting effort for her current position; her ability to develop market strategies for products that might otherwise be marginal in sales were being recognized and her pay scale was commensurate. The only child of the Shorts, she had enjoyed a most excellent relationship with her parents, and in particular with her mother. No question that her father had always been a rock solid foundation for her, and they could engage in the more mundane facts of earning a living, things automotive and household she needed to know about, everyday items; but, it was her late mother to whom she confided the heartbreak of a lost boyfriend who had shown so much potential, a missed promotion Sydney really felt was hers to receive, things of a much deeper personal nature that could result in celebration, or now and then tears or an achy heart such as the day her mother was laid to rest.

In her present position she was given much latitude in conducting daily operations for the group of ten staffers she led. Now in her early 30’s, her group consisted of several newbies, plus some others with several years of experience. The group was successful in their strategic planning, as often as not gathering around the conference table when someone hit a blank wall, ideas given voice, sometimes crazy ideas with little to no merit, but which would pique a thought in the mind of someone else, and so it would go until the white board was covered with ideas that would coalesce into a manageable thought pattern pointing to success. She was the recognized leader not because the organization chart said she was but because her ability to refine down an idea, maybe from someone else at the table, into a workable resolution was recognized by her group. She really was that good at what she did. At the same time, she recognized the input of others and did not claim all progress was through her own efforts; that trait also was recognized and appreciated by her associates. A couple of them had worked at other firms before migrating to this company and were well aware of the back stabbing that could go on in the climb up the ladder of success. Such was not the attitude of Sydney Short.

One of the things she really enjoyed about her position was those times when she was called upon to do a client presentation on her groups output. Obviously, being successful at such events was crucial to the continued success of the company, which translated in some manner to her own success and that of her team. Usually there would be a vice president with some nebulous title present in the room along with client representatives, but it was up to her to get the A/V work completed, make sure it was done in a timely manner so upper management could review it for potentially concealed bombshells before meeting time, arrange for the presentation room amenities, those sort of more mundane but crucial items, all the while keeping in mind the nature of the clients. As often as not there could be extenuating circumstances that didn’t appear on the surface of things, items that might seem silly to some but which could change the effect a presentation might have. Once she had caught the fact that the bottled water provided for the guests was from their direct competitor; she had gathered the bottles quickly and sent someone for replacements of the correct brand. Seemingly little things like that could sink a presentation without warning; Sydney Short made sure that didn’t happen, not on her watch. It didn’t hurt things a bit that she clearly had a distinct physical attractiveness about her; on a strictly technical evaluation that aspect would be dismissed as irrelevant, but in truth it was very relevant in real life, regardless of what any legal statutes might imply. She always dressed well, never showing more of anything than would be socially acceptable for the level of presentation she was conducting, but it was a truth of the matter that her attributes did not go unnoticed by clients, male or upon occasion female. It was a fact she did not date clients, no matter how many times they asked, no matter how much it might be inferred the success of the presentation might hinge on that date, and even if she might be interested in some other than professional aspect. Early on in her career she had made that mistake, accepting a date from a really handsome and well-spoken client representative, only to discover a few weeks into the relationship he was interested in only two things where she was concerned: himself and his own betterment, to be gained from moving his project along either through her, past her, over her, whatever it took. She cut the tie in one plain spoken phone call, learning from the experience.

The reason she had left previous employers weighed on her mind, and when she was recruited for this current position the subject had come up for discussion before she elected to make the move. Certainly her employer at the time countered the offer when she announced she would be leaving, but she knew in her heart and mind they were not being truthful. She had hired in there because of the potential to grow within the company, expand her own group and grow some ideas she had for conducting successful campaigns. It was true she had been provided with a very nice office and adequate staff, substantial paycheck and more than acceptable perks, but when she had landed the biggest client the firm had ever courted the credit was absorbed by a male vice-president. It was a subtle shift of credit, done in a staff meeting in front of others in upper management where she was being recognized for her success, when he alluded to her minor input as being an asset toward his landing of the client. There was nothing she could do as she watched the change take place, no time to throw a complete fit at what had just happened, no way to make things right for her, and worst of all was that he stood there in front of everyone looking at her with a smirk on his face. Things would not change and she took a walk as soon as the new offer was in front of her.

At the end of this very day she knew again the corporate ceiling might have a dent but it would remain intact above her. The mid-morning presentation to an important client had gone really well; she was aware the client had been looking around at other marketing firms, having learned that through common street knowledge gossip that always swirled around at after work cocktail hours and such. They had some new products to hawk and were looking for some new and innovative means of getting those products in front of buyers in such a manner as to make them must buy well beyond nice to have item sales levels. With staff input she had grown a totally new concept for the products, separating them from the more stodgy company image and presenting them as leading edge items from a more progressive firm by a subtle change here and there in the media material. The smiling client faces in the A/V room told her there was major buy-in