When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat - Webs
When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat - Webs
When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat - Webs
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After a pleasant flight, it was but a short cab ride to my<br />
hotel. I would be ready in <strong>the</strong> morning for my meeting with<br />
Mr. Seymour, <strong>the</strong> head of <strong>the</strong> company. I had never met Mr.<br />
Seymour in pers<strong>on</strong> but hoped he would receive my proposal in<br />
a favorable manner. A good night’s rest and I would be raring<br />
to go, I thought. As I was filling out <strong>the</strong> necessary registrati<strong>on</strong><br />
form, <strong>the</strong> desk clerk smiled and said, “We have a message for<br />
you, Mr. H.” I opened <strong>the</strong> note. It stated simply that M. Tarkas<br />
would meet me later. Perhaps it was Mr. Seymour’s idea to<br />
send some<strong>on</strong>e to meet me.<br />
I went to my room, unpacked my small overnight bag<br />
and took a quick shower. Then I ph<strong>on</strong>ed home to let every<strong>on</strong>e<br />
know I’d arrived safely. <str<strong>on</strong>g>When</str<strong>on</strong>g> it was time for dinner, I went<br />
down to <strong>the</strong> dining room. As I was walking across <strong>the</strong> lobby, a<br />
lady stepped up to me and said, “Hi! I’m Marla Tarkas. <str<strong>on</strong>g>You</str<strong>on</strong>g>’re<br />
John!”<br />
“Should I know you?” I asked, momentarily startled.<br />
“Gide<strong>on</strong> told me you’d be here and asked that I offer<br />
my help.”<br />
Ah, here we go, I thought. Gide<strong>on</strong> again. And I hadn’t<br />
seen him in weeks. Who was this woman, anyway? How had<br />
Gide<strong>on</strong> known about my trip? Perhaps, he had called my office<br />
and some<strong>on</strong>e had menti<strong>on</strong>ed it to him. But my secretary<br />
never gives out that kind of informati<strong>on</strong>. I must admit that I<br />
resembled a giant questi<strong>on</strong> mark as I stood <strong>the</strong>re looking at<br />
Marla.<br />
She smiled at me sweetly. “May I join you for dinner?<br />
We’ll talk more <strong>the</strong>n.” I nodded numbly and we went to <strong>the</strong><br />
dining room. <str<strong>on</strong>g>When</str<strong>on</strong>g> we were seated, I looked at Marla with<br />
evident discomfort.<br />
She was beautiful but had a distant look, as if deep in<br />
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