Contributor: John Laneri
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Before Sharon came into my life, I rarely traveled to New York City. The place was too busy for a small town lawyer from Texas.
I first met her that afternoon at her firm's office where she represented legal council for one of my client’s business interests.
On entering her suite, I glanced about. The setting was impressive as were the impressionist paintings on the walls. From what I saw, I pictured Ms. Sharon Parker as a high priced, no nonsense woman who wore sensible shoes and trampled other lawyers for fun.
My first surprise came when I encountered an attractive woman wearing a fashionable suit accented with a white silk blouse and sexy, high heel pumps.
She rose from behind a large desk and extended a hand to greet me, her bright eyes and dark hair projecting an alluring presence, one reminiscent of a fine wine.
“Thank you for coming. May I call you Greg?”
I indicated yes, as I removed my Stetson and set it in my lap.
She glanced at the hat, seemingly amused, then she reached for a portfolio of papers. “I’ve studied your client’s proposal. It’s interesting, but there are several points that need further clarification.”
Her approach seemed a bit formal for what I was proposing, so I said, “My client’s intentions are sincere. He’s an honest small town boy trying to make the deal work for both parties.”
“I’m sure he is, but lets dig a bit deeper, shall we?”
We continued to discuss our differences for several minutes. Then, she asked, “Do you come to New York often? ”
“Only for business.”
She seemed surprised. “It’s a wonderful city. You really should take a closer look.”
“Perhaps later,” I replied, feeling a bit annoyed by her motherly tone. ”But now, I think we should amend paragraph five of section three.”
She sighed and glanced in my direction. “Is that really what you want?”
By then, I was beginning to wonder what made the woman tick. I was merely requesting simple clarification of a minor point. It was something that could have easily been handled on the phone, but she had insisted that we meet face to face, so I ended up half way across the country, sitting in her office arguing trivia.
A phone call interrupted us. She answered it then turned away, her manner conveying disgust. After a lengthy conversation, during which she walked to the far side of the room, her hands gesturing heatedly, she returned to me, her face flushed.
“Is everything okay? I asked.
Ignoring me, she paused to gather herself. Then forcing a smile, she again reached for her papers saying, “I understand you're from Texas.”
“Yes ma'am, I practice out of a small town west of San Antonio.”
“Do you have a ranch like most people from Texas?”
Surprised by her comment, I chuckled to myself and replied, “I manage to graze about five hundred head of beef cattle. I also do some farming to keep the acreage in use.”
She looked at me quizzically. “I can't imagine living away from the romance of a big city. We have everything one ever needs.”
“I manage to get by. It's not so hard once you get use to the clear skies and clean air.”
“But, don't you miss the city lights, the hustle and bustle?” she asked, her voice skeptical.
“No ma'am. I like the quiet. It gives me time to enjoy the sunsets while I sip my wine and kick off my boots after a hard day's work.”
She smiled, as if she had won a point. “I thought cowboys only drank beer.”
“When we're hot and sweaty, a cold beer is mighty fine. But in the evenings, I prefer the wines from my vineyards.”
Surprised, she asked, “Cowboys make their own wine too?”
“Yes ma'am, I have about a fifty acres for vines and a winery for my fermentation vats and bottling plant.”
“I'm impressed,” she smiled, as she seemed to relax. “Very impressed. You're a busy man.”
In an attempt to redirect her thoughts, I asked, “Have you made a decision as to my client’s position regarding paragraph five? It would definitely allow both parties to profit handsomely.”
We continued to discuss our differences for awhile longer, but she remained distracted and hesitant to concede any points, saying only that she would gladly pass my suggestions on to her client, so I suggested that we take a another approach.
“Another approach?” she asked, her eyes questioning to mine.
“Yes Ma’am... our differences are minimal. So, let's finish discussing them while we have dinner and share a bottle of wine. Later, if you like, you can show me around the city. Maybe, we'll even catch a sunset.”
She studied me for a few moments then smiling pleasantly, she set her papers aside. “I favor the wines from France. But, I doubt we'll see a colorful sunset.”
“Whatever you like. But I have to admit, the Texas wines are worth a look. Life is best appreciated when the spirit inside is unlocked and allowed to roam free.”
She pushed away from her desk, her features beginning to brighten. “Then, let's do a Texas wine. I'm ready to roam free for a change.”
And, that’s how it went. We had our night on the town. We failed to see a sunset worth mentioning. And best of all, we discovered each other.
Truth be told, after we moved to the ranch, she began to enjoy life again, as the wines and the sunsets set her free, then drew us together, captured our spirits and allowed us to become one.
- - -
- -
Before Sharon came into my life, I rarely traveled to New York City. The place was too busy for a small town lawyer from Texas.
I first met her that afternoon at her firm's office where she represented legal council for one of my client’s business interests.
On entering her suite, I glanced about. The setting was impressive as were the impressionist paintings on the walls. From what I saw, I pictured Ms. Sharon Parker as a high priced, no nonsense woman who wore sensible shoes and trampled other lawyers for fun.
My first surprise came when I encountered an attractive woman wearing a fashionable suit accented with a white silk blouse and sexy, high heel pumps.
She rose from behind a large desk and extended a hand to greet me, her bright eyes and dark hair projecting an alluring presence, one reminiscent of a fine wine.
“Thank you for coming. May I call you Greg?”
I indicated yes, as I removed my Stetson and set it in my lap.
She glanced at the hat, seemingly amused, then she reached for a portfolio of papers. “I’ve studied your client’s proposal. It’s interesting, but there are several points that need further clarification.”
Her approach seemed a bit formal for what I was proposing, so I said, “My client’s intentions are sincere. He’s an honest small town boy trying to make the deal work for both parties.”
“I’m sure he is, but lets dig a bit deeper, shall we?”
We continued to discuss our differences for several minutes. Then, she asked, “Do you come to New York often? ”
“Only for business.”
She seemed surprised. “It’s a wonderful city. You really should take a closer look.”
“Perhaps later,” I replied, feeling a bit annoyed by her motherly tone. ”But now, I think we should amend paragraph five of section three.”
She sighed and glanced in my direction. “Is that really what you want?”
By then, I was beginning to wonder what made the woman tick. I was merely requesting simple clarification of a minor point. It was something that could have easily been handled on the phone, but she had insisted that we meet face to face, so I ended up half way across the country, sitting in her office arguing trivia.
A phone call interrupted us. She answered it then turned away, her manner conveying disgust. After a lengthy conversation, during which she walked to the far side of the room, her hands gesturing heatedly, she returned to me, her face flushed.
“Is everything okay? I asked.
Ignoring me, she paused to gather herself. Then forcing a smile, she again reached for her papers saying, “I understand you're from Texas.”
“Yes ma'am, I practice out of a small town west of San Antonio.”
“Do you have a ranch like most people from Texas?”
Surprised by her comment, I chuckled to myself and replied, “I manage to graze about five hundred head of beef cattle. I also do some farming to keep the acreage in use.”
She looked at me quizzically. “I can't imagine living away from the romance of a big city. We have everything one ever needs.”
“I manage to get by. It's not so hard once you get use to the clear skies and clean air.”
“But, don't you miss the city lights, the hustle and bustle?” she asked, her voice skeptical.
“No ma'am. I like the quiet. It gives me time to enjoy the sunsets while I sip my wine and kick off my boots after a hard day's work.”
She smiled, as if she had won a point. “I thought cowboys only drank beer.”
“When we're hot and sweaty, a cold beer is mighty fine. But in the evenings, I prefer the wines from my vineyards.”
Surprised, she asked, “Cowboys make their own wine too?”
“Yes ma'am, I have about a fifty acres for vines and a winery for my fermentation vats and bottling plant.”
“I'm impressed,” she smiled, as she seemed to relax. “Very impressed. You're a busy man.”
In an attempt to redirect her thoughts, I asked, “Have you made a decision as to my client’s position regarding paragraph five? It would definitely allow both parties to profit handsomely.”
We continued to discuss our differences for awhile longer, but she remained distracted and hesitant to concede any points, saying only that she would gladly pass my suggestions on to her client, so I suggested that we take a another approach.
“Another approach?” she asked, her eyes questioning to mine.
“Yes Ma’am... our differences are minimal. So, let's finish discussing them while we have dinner and share a bottle of wine. Later, if you like, you can show me around the city. Maybe, we'll even catch a sunset.”
She studied me for a few moments then smiling pleasantly, she set her papers aside. “I favor the wines from France. But, I doubt we'll see a colorful sunset.”
“Whatever you like. But I have to admit, the Texas wines are worth a look. Life is best appreciated when the spirit inside is unlocked and allowed to roam free.”
She pushed away from her desk, her features beginning to brighten. “Then, let's do a Texas wine. I'm ready to roam free for a change.”
And, that’s how it went. We had our night on the town. We failed to see a sunset worth mentioning. And best of all, we discovered each other.
Truth be told, after we moved to the ranch, she began to enjoy life again, as the wines and the sunsets set her free, then drew us together, captured our spirits and allowed us to become one.
- - -
Author:
John Laneri
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