Billionaires Runaway Bride

Bishop Miller sat staring at me with an impassive expression and did not say a word.

"Mr. Miller, I'm not sure what it is you want me to say, but I am more than happy to answer any questions you have or address any reservations," I offered as I tried to get a read on what he was thinking or what he wanted. This was not my strong suit since my father had always let me know exactly what he was thinking, whether I wanted to know or not.

"Mr. Wallace," the bishop began after a long silence. "Do you know anything about the Amish culture?"

The question caught me off-guard, but since I'd spent time researching their community and thinking about how to best formulate a sales pitch, I felt confident when I answered. "Your community prides itself on being independent and self-reliant. You avoid government interference as much as possible, and you maintain a community based on tradition and religious devotion."

"What history book did you pull that out of?" Miller dryly asked as he folded his hands and rested them on the worn, oak surface.

"I read it online," I said.

"I see," he nodded before looking down at his hands. For me, it was an agonizingly long time before he spoke again. "Mr. Wallace, we are simple people who do our best to uphold the values set forth by God. Part of those values involves maintaining a certain distance from the outside world. That is true. My concern about your project is that it invites the outside world into our fields and farms."

"No, it would give you the freedom from the outsiders," I said wondering if he'd listened to anything I'd said.

"It would not," he replied. "It would open up our community to a wide range of interference as you'd be required to get permits to install such technology and then would bring machines and crews into actually do the installation. And what about when the machinery breaks down, Mr. Wallace?"

"Those are short periods of time for the installation, and the maintenance is minimal," I replied as I felt my frustration building. This man didn't want to see how much his community could be helped by the turbines. "The licenses would be obtained through Agape Resources, and you wouldn't have to have anything to do with those."

"I see. Then what happens if there is a problem with the turbines, Mr. Wallace?" he asked as he raised his eyes up to meet mine. "Whose responsibility is it then?"

"Well, we'd deal with the problems," I said. "We'd be responsible for resolving the issues and dealing with the outsiders."

"So, you're going to move someone down here to be onsite at all times?" he asked.

"Well, no," I admitted. "But you can always call us in Chicago and we'll send someone down immediately."

"Outsiders running things in our community from the outside," he murmured.

"Mr. Miller, we are trying to help your community," I sighed as I frantically tried to think of a line of reasoning that would convince him we were the best option for Corner Grove. "We are not trying to interfere with your way of life."

"Oh, but you are," he said shaking his head. "You most definitely are. And as far as I can see, Mr. Wallace, this partnership will most likely benefit you more than it will benefit us."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" I blurted as I pushed my chair back from the table and shot up out of it. "My God, it's not like you people have trade secrets to protect or something! You're farmers! You need energy and we have a means of supplying you with it that won't interfere with your primitive lifestyle."

I could feel the anger rising and I wanted to shout at the man, but I knew that I'd probably already gone too far. He said nothing as he sat looking up at me. His expression gave nothing away. How could he not see that technology would make their lives easier and less stressful? Could he really be as blind as my father?

"Mr. Wallace," he said breaking the silence and pulling me back to the conference room. "Thank you for coming all this way, but we are not interested in installing your turbines in Corner Grove."

"That's it?" I said incredulously. "That's the end of it? You listen to part of my pitch and then just say no? You aren't going to ask the community what they want?"

"Mr. Wallace, as I'm sure you're aware, I am the bishop of this community," he said calmly rising out of his chair. "I am endowed by God the Creator and the members of this community to make the decisions for Corner Grove. I do not need to consult with anyone, so long as I abide by the word of God."

"Well, God is being pretty damn short sighted," I retorted as I quickly grabbed the presentation materials off the table and headed for the door. Before I exited, I turned and said, "You will regret this, Bishop Miller. I guarantee it."

"If it is God's will," he replied, "Then so be it."

I turned, yanked open the door and stormed down the hallway past the front desk where the young man who'd first greeted me sat. As I headed for the front door, he called out, "Have a blessed day, sir!"

"Go to hell!" I yelled as I slammed the palms of my hands against the heavy glass door forcing it open. I marched to the Mustang muttering under my breath, "Blessed my ass."

I yanked open the door and threw the handful of papers toward the opposite side of the car and watched them fly in all different directions. I slid into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and jammed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life and without looking behind me I put the car in reverse and backed up, narrowly missing a buggy full of Amish teenagers pulling out of the parking lot.

"Watch where you're going!" the boy holding the reins yelled.

"Fuck you!" I yelled flipping him the bird as I stepped on the gas. I knew my anger was over the top, but I'd had enough of old men telling me that my ideas weren't good enough. Much like my father, Bishop Miller was behind the times and refused to see that it was essential that he employ new technology to improve things.

At the edge of the parking lot, I waited for another buggy to cross the factory entrance. "Goddamn it!" I shouted as I slammed my fists against the steering wheel. "Will you people please join the twenty-first century?"