Romance Novella 7

With a contented sigh, Gerald finished his personal bank reconciliation. Another month, credit cards would be down to zero. The difference? The original Gerald had had two serious flaws - drinking and gambling. Other than that, he'd been mostly sensible with personal funds.
Due to the religious views of the original Amanda (and the terrible one-time hangover), these two flaws were no more.
At work, things were much better. See the travel claims had not really needed hyperalertness. There was no fraud, just some honest mistakes.
The same could not be said of suppliers invoicing Revenue for goods and services. Gerald nailed a number in quasi-fraud, saved a lot of money.
The Division Chief went from enemy to friend. Assured Gerald any reference would be most glowing - bygones would be bygones - only the present would be looked at.

Tasma too had made progess. Long since left behind children's books. Now she could read and understand serious library books and serious newspapers.
As well, the student loan was paid off, a savings account slowly accumulating.

With funds better, Tasma did not hesitate to eat at the student food court, when she stayed for something like a public lecture at the university. Her favorite was the eat-in pizza restaurant.
At the next table sat Gerald. Good grief, he thought, talk about your typical uptight Afghan. Nice knowing all that nonsense was past history, him now a mainstream Canadian.
The counterwoman called "Number 38" and Tasma rose to pick up her order.
In the space of a heartbeat, everything changed. Tasma looked remarkably similar to someone in the past.
Amanda hadn't always been a cynical bitten type in AAW. In her early and more idealistic years, she'd had a girl-girl fling with someone similar to the woman at the next table.
He knew she worked in the education library, struck up a conversation.
It would be hard to imagine a more frosty response. Tasma was perfectly capable of recognizing the moron with the pellet pistol. And no, not afraid of him, with the amount of unarmed combat training M/Cpl Boisvert had had.
Her Arctic response only inflamed his desire, now he was determined.
He devised a plan to wear down her resistance. She worked in a public area. Each day after work, he'd come, stand near her and talk quietly. If he actually followed her after work, she could claim he was a stalker. But just standing there in the library, no problem.
Tasma could have called security, but didn't want to make a scene. After all, it wasn't like he was creating noise to annoy students studying nearby.
At first, he tried typical consumer complaints as a topic, such as insurance or car repair ripoffs. He could soon see that was pointless. She gave zero sympathy, her attitude being, you have lotsa money anyway.
Purely by accident, he tripped over her Achilles heel, humorous bureaucratic stories.
He had no way of knowing her real background. M/Cpl Boisvert, in common with a lot of Canadian servicemen, had an appetite for the bizarre, loved the dark humor and irony of such stories.
In no time, he got her laughing regularly. Soon things were sufficiently relaxed, he suggested a coffee date.
This went so well, he suggested a second. She countered by saying, only if she bought, keep it even. Fair enough, he reasoned, don't want her to feel put upon.
As they left after the first date, he pondered, gotta be honest. Before we do anything serious, must tell her the background story, AAW. Bet she has a dark secret or two of her own.
By the third coffee date, there was sufficient relaxed trust, that he took the plunge. He was absolutely astounded by her reply. So she was a kindred soul, also trapped in time.
A week later, they were engaged.