Ray Reid had moved down to Florida from Philadelphia to start a new job in Park Beach, a small oceanside town, three weeks earlier. Moved to get away from the scene of his divorce, start new. His ex-wife had once told him she was attracted to him because he had a great job and a nice house. When they split, she accused him of being one of those nice guys who would never make a success of anything.
Nothing much to move down with him. She took everything, even kept his dog. He did manage to rescue some of his history books and string quartet CDs from the curbside trash in front of the house he had paid for.
His new employer, a Florida securities broker, E.J. Bradford & Co., needed a back-office manager. That was Ray's specialty: running all the numbers and seeing that the firm handled the buys and sells properly.
The job had started well and his associates liked him. Nothing very threatening about Ray, an everyday forty year old, never quite made it to six feet, with short brown hair already thinning at the temples. His face was "okay"-at least that's how a girlfriend in college once described it. Another girl told him his black-rimmed glasses were unquestionably a date-loser. He'd always worn that kind, they fit fine and weren't expensive.
Each day after the market closed, an attractive young stockbroker at the firm, Meg Emerson, would stride to the back office still charged with energy and chat with him to calm down after her hectic day. Meg was a sales whiz, the number one producer in the office. All the sales reports crossed Ray's desk, so he knew she grossed twice as much as her boss. She could afford to dress in a fabulous manner, yet he noticed she favored a conservative look and wore her blond hair short and straight. She was pushing the upper limit on the height-weight charts, although she didn't seem concerned.
Ray was ten years older. He thought she had a wonderful mind. She wasn't afraid to discuss serious subjects such as art and antiques. There were several younger, better-looking guys around the office, but for some reason Ray was the person she wanted to talk with. She never missed a day.
It was Meg who invited him to the party that started it all. She just gave the party-he couldn't blame her for his meeting Loraine there.
When the party day arrived, Ray was still settling into his new apartment. He needed to paint the place, and shop for a lamp, a screwdriver and a can opener. He had little interest in going to a gathering of strangers and doing his wallflower routine while planning a polite escape. Not his idea of fun. Nevertheless, he did go. She had been so insistent.