The Celestine Prophecy

I drove up to the restaurant and parked, then leaned back in my seat to think for a moment. Charlene, I knew, would already be inside, waiting to talk with me. But why? I hadn’t heard a word from her in six years. Why would she have shown up now, just when I had sequestered myself in the woods for a week? I stepped out of the truck and walked toward the restaurant. Behind me, the last glow of a sunset sank in the west and cast highlights of golden amber across the wet parking lot. Everything had been drenched an hour earlier by a brief thunderstorm, and now the summer evening felt cool and renewed, and because of the fading light, almost surreal. A half moon hung overhead. As I walked, old images of Charlene filled my mind. Was she still beautiful, intense? How would time have changed her? And what was I to think of this manuscript she had mentioned this ancient artifact found in South America that she couldn’t wait to tell me about? I have a two hour layover at the airport, she had said on the telephone. Can you meet me for dinner? You’re going to love what this manuscript says it’s just your kind of mystery. My kind of mystery? What did she mean by that?

Inside, the restaurant was crowded. Several couples waited for tables. When I found the hostess, she told me Charlene had already been seated and directed me toward a terraced area above the main dining room. I walked up the steps and became aware of a crowd of people surrounding one of the tables. The crowd included two policemen. Suddenly, the policemen turned and rushed past me and down the steps. As the rest of the people dispersed, I could see past them to the person who seemed to have been the center of attention a woman, still seated at the table... Charlene! I quickly walked up to her. Charlene, what’s going on? Is anything wrong? She tossed her head back in mock exasperation and stood up, flashing her famous smile. I noticed that her hair was perhaps different, but her face was exactly as I remembered: small delicate features, wide mouth, huge blue eyes. You wouldn’t believe it, she said, pulling me into a friendly hug. I went to the rest room a few minutes ago and while I was gone, someone stole my briefcase. What was in it? Nothing of importance, just some books and magazines I was taking along for the trip. It’s crazy. The people at the other tables told me someone just walked in, picked it up, and walked out. They gave the police a description and the officers said they would search the area. Maybe I should help them look? No, no. Let’s forget about it. I don’t have much time and I want to talk with you.