FORTY-FOUR

ALONE AND bored, Doris had her home stereo turned up to full blast as she danced to the rhythm of the popular song, singing along at the top of her lungs. So absorbed was she in her music that she didn't hear her phone ringing, not until the fifth ring. Even then, she almost ignored it, but something made her pick it up.

"Hello?" she said, her voice hesitant. The number was unknown and she wasn't sure who was on the other end of the line.

Just as she expected, an unfamiliar voice came through the phone, "Hello, am I speaking with Doris Evans?"

It was a man's voice, Doris noted. One she couldn't place. She racked her brain, fishing for a recollection but she came up empty.

She switched her phone to the other ear. "Uh. . . yes, this is Doris Evans," she said, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "Who am I speaking with?"

"Oh! This is Daniel Vincent speaking," he announced, sounding a bit hesitant himself. "The guy who grazed your car a couple of weeks ago?"

Dor