EJ sat in the bay window seat of the inn overlooking the Vermont village green we'd come to for our Fall getaway weekend. She was watching the cold, wind-driven rain hasten the descent of the leaves we'd come to look at. Our Sunday drive had been cut short, so we were relaxing until it was time for dinner in the inn's restaurant. She had one of her long legs tucked under her. Her body was turned as she looked out, so I could see her chestnut brown hair falling down her back to her waist. At just a tad over six feet, the same height as me, she had a figure that made looking at her one of my favorite pastimes. I'd been telling friends that she was a woman with whom I could see eye-to-eye. Then I saw one of those beautiful blue eyes leak a tear. I put aside the magazine I hadn't really been reading and moved from the chair to join her on the window seat.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Russ, how long have we known each other?"

Ever have your whole life pass before your eyes? In this case, it was our whole relationship.

I had first spotted EJ Parker early the previous December as she walked by my cubicle. She had just joined the staff of the magazine where I'd been working for a few years. The cubicle walls are five feet, eight inches tall. All I could see as she walked by was brown hair and eyebrows, definitely feminine, so I stuck my head around the corner in time to see her continuing on in the company of our Human Resources person. She was wearing a green dress that was the perfect shade to go with her waist-length hair, and it fit her marvelously. She was almost out of sight before I realized she was not wearing high heels. That's what made me get out the ruler.

The sight of her walking away stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon. I never did see her return, but the next day I was fortunate enough to see her approach. It was then that I discovered that while seeing her walk away was a treat, seeing her walk toward me was a visual feast. It wasn't that she dressed or walked in a sexy manner. No, her clothes were always well suited to our environment, but they fit her so well and she looked so comfortable in them. She had a great sense of style. I wondered if she'd ever been an airline stewardess because she walked like she'd been taught how to move efficiently without joggling everything around. Not that she was very joggly - she was perfectly proportioned for her height.

I managed to keep from staring as she got to my cubicle and said, "Hi, you're new here, aren't you? I'm Russ Wallace." I stuck out my hand.

"EJ Parker," she said as she took my hand for a brief shake. "I started yesterday. Just moved from the West Coast. I've been told winters in Cambridge are a bit rougher than they are in San Francisco."

"You could say that," I replied. "Maybe we could compare them over lunch?"

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I'm meeting someone."

"Ah, OK, well, another time, perhaps."

"We'll see." She continued on down toward her own cubicle.

Over the next few days, I took a keener interest in the four inches just above my cubicle wall. I found more reasons to stand up and stretch, and as a result, managed to find myself refreshing my coffee at the same time EJ went for hers. We exchanged a few comments, mostly about that universal topic, the weather. One day as I watched her retreat, Hal, the guy across the way, leaned his head back and said, "She has a boyfriend."

Those have got to be about the four most disappointing words in the English language, at least for a single guy. They turned out to be true. His name was Bob. He was a very well paid software developer, and a boyfriend of the live-in variety. That probably accounted for EJ's great clothes. And for what happened over the next few months.