Yes, Master by Simon Archer

Author:Simon Archer [Archer, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Published: 2020-06-27T22:00:00+00:00

11

The second yard we worked on went off without a hitch and took half the amount of time as the Calla’s yard. Before I knew it, we were pulling up to old Mr. and Mrs. Pillowa’s place. We had just started walking up the drive when Mrs. Pillowa came rushing out of her house.

“Bennett! Bennett! I'm so sorry!” she cried out. “I can't have you work on the yard. They took William to the hospital. I'm on my way there now.” Unshed tears filled her eyes.

“I'm so sorry to hear that! Is there anything I can do to help? Would you like me to drive you?” I motioned toward her car. She knew that I did not own a vehicle, but I would have been more than happy to drive hers since she was so upset.

“No, no, that's alright,” she started. “I will be fine driving myself. There is a huge favor I could ask of you, however. I have some documents that need to be delivered to my tax accountant. I was supposed to take them there today, but as you can see, plans have changed. Would you mind taking them for me? I'm more than happy to pay for cab fare.”

“Mrs. Pillowa, it’s Sunday. Are you sure your tax place is open today?” I was concerned that perhaps she had her days mixed up.

“I'm sure it is open. They are testing alternative business hours. Just started last month,” she explained.

“In that case, sure! I'm happy to take them for you. No cab fare necessary. Which agency are they going to?” I asked her. She opened the door to her car and reached in the backseat. She came back out with a legal-size manila envelope and handed it to me.

“It will go to Harris Tax Services,” she said. “The address is on the envelope. I really have to be going now. Thank you so much, Bennett. I truly appreciate you.”

“I'm happy I can help, Mrs. Pillowa. Please feel free to call on me if you need anything else. And also, please pass on my ‘get well soon’ to your husband,” I told her as she climbed into her car. She put it in gear, and I watched as she backed out of her driveway while the girls and I stood to the side. She waved after she had pulled out and was driving away. Luckily, Vila had stopped the cab driver from leaving when she realized something was not right. The three of us climbed into the taxi.

“Do you know where Harris Tax Services is?” I asked the driver.

“Yes. Ever since they started running Sunday hours, you'd be amazed at how many trips I take there!” he replied.

“Great, that is where we are headed,” I told him.

“You've got it, man,” he replied. He was a jolly, middle-aged man who seemed to enjoy his job more than most cab drivers I had met. I made a mental note to tip him extra. I believed that anybody who dealt with people all day long and kept a good attitude deserved a bonus for their service.

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