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Thomas pondered the dream for a moment, but as he tried to recall details, it faded from memory. Shrugging his shoulders, Thomas got up and got ready for his flight. After showering and dressing in his suit, he carried his luggage down to the front porch to await the limo. Julie Crawford came down, wrapped in her long terrycloth robe, to see her son off and wish him well on his trip. As Julie hugged her son goodbye, the limousine pulled up. Thomas had seen limos before, but never anything with this level of grandeur. Sitting at the curb was a Rolls Royce Phantom stretch limousine, complete with liveried chauffer. Talk about going all out for a limo! he thought. The chauffer opened the door for him, then after getting Thomas settled, stowed his luggage and got behind the wheel again. Momentary panic set in when Thomas realized that he did not know where Angie lived. ‘Excuse me, but I don’t have my companion’s address.’ Thomas felt like an idiot having to admit that. ‘Your concierge. ’ ‘Sure, that’s great.’ By late afternoon the ground crew had the posts lifted and stacked neatly to one side. The airplane’s fuel system had been emptied and flushed and the engine was started and left ticking over for half and hour while the mechanic sat waiting for any sign of problems. The wind was up strongly and with the pastures being rather lumpy Nash decided to wait till the morning. After serving coffee and cookies to everyone Irene was over repairing the fence where the bull had gone through. The insurance agent had recommended burying the carcass where it was and Irene agreed. The crew looked down at the dead animal and the mechanic went to their truck and returned with a crowbar. ‘The bull’s dead, no need to kill him again Tony,’ said one of his mates as they watched Tony dig the bar several times near the edge of the sheer bank, scoured by floods over the centuries before the river bed moved farther out to the west. Tony heaved and triggered a small landslide of grit.
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