How far had she driven that morning? She wished she had paid closer attention to that little detail; but then she remembered the gloriousness of Fall that she had paid attention to and promptly forgave herself. Except. She gazed ahead at the road in front of her, briefly glanced back at the turnoff which had led to the hiking trails, and sighed. It was going to be a long hike home.

A car slowed behind her and stopped. She looked over her shoulder and saw a black Maserati.

“Do you need a lift?”

Should she answer or quicken her pace? The fleeting thought of racing a Maserati both amused and alarmed her.

“I,” she turned and found herself staring at a man near her age but clearly not her league.

She cleared her throat. “I was hiking and my car wouldn’t start.”

Great. Lovely explanation.

“I could try to start it.”

As she wondered how safe it would be to backtrack to a hiking trail with a stranger, he added, “Or I could give you a lift home.”

It is an inexorable fact of life that one choice always leads to another. She wished that just now her choice wasn’t between a proverbial rock and hard place. The sun was setting, and hiking along a deserted highway wasn’t remotely appealing even on this warm fall evening. Boring had its own appeal just now.

“I won’t hurt you and,” he squinted at the setting sun, “I hate the thought of you out here by yourself.”

She nodded, slid into the passenger seat, and directed him to the turnoff she’d taken earlier.

“It’s a beautiful evening – warm,” he remarked.

“With a whisper of cool.” She couldn’t seem to help herself.

He smiled. “I like that. Yes. A whisper of cool. Complementary features of Fall.”

He pulled up next to her car, jumped out, and looked under the Pontiac’s hood. Pulling a gadget from his pocket, he hooked it up to her car battery, waited a few minutes, and motioned for her to try the ignition. Her jaw dropped as her car roared to life. He smiled, waved, and pulled out ahead of her.

There really were angels who walked the earth, she thought as she neared her cozy, boring, beautiful duplex. She would make it home before night’s dark made fitting her key in the lock more a matter of touch than sight.

What?! Lights filled the other side of the duplex that had stood vacant for so long. Of all the days for her to have been gone. Someone must have moved into the attached unit. She grabbed her things and pulled a note from her screen as she unlocked her door. The note explained her landlord would be staying for an unspecified amount of time.

Landlord? Well at least she might put a face to the heretofore featureless recipient of her rent.

Apologies for missing my new neighbor, the note continued. Arrived later than anticipated. She studied the handwriting. The block letters suggested it wasn’t a little old lady who received her rent. Other than that, she couldn’t tell.

After making the first cocoa of the fall season and changing from hiking boots to fuzzy slippers, she peeked out her back window to the duplex garage. She used it only during winter months to save on rent. But she concluded with no car in the driveway, the landlord must’ve parked in the garage.

It was probably too late to go next door and introduce herself, but her curiosity got the better of her. What did he – or she – drive? A truck – maybe Chevy? Ford – probably. She opened the door a crack, then swung it wide. There it stood. A Maserati – black as the oncoming night and anything but boring.

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