Text Copyright 2009 Daniel Lance Wright.
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This novel is dedicated to Rickie.
Without her tolerance of my creative seclusion,
to the neglect of most everything else,
this work would simply never have happened.
Prologue
“Are you sure it’s one of Weaver’s employees up there?” asked Barry Ezell.
“That’s what our guy in Paradise tells me.” Ezell’s man stood with his arms crossed leaning against the door jamb of the plush office. The sprawling EZ Oil Company headquarters was located on the west side of Midland, Texas. “Sure looks suspicious though.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Ezell pushed away from his desk and rose. He paced around and sat on the front corner of it. “This is baffling. How could Weaver Oilfield Tool and Supply possibly know what we’re doing in the northern mountains of New Mexico?”
Barry Ezell was in his seventies, bald with liver spots dotting his hairless pate and a grizzled fringe. He was stoop-shouldered and slight built with a hawkish nose. His washed out blue eyes, capable of an ice cold laser-intense stare, told the tale of a man willing to do anything to get what he wanted.
Ezell’s henchman uncrossed his arms and fully entered the office. “I don’t think it’s coincidental. I believe he was sent there to muck our plans. He and his family are even staying in that ratty little cluster of cabins that old man Pritchert owns. There are nicer places to vacation in Paradise; why that one? Nope, it’s not a coincidence, Mr. Ezell... couldn’t be.”
“I think you’re right. It’s no secret that Herman Weaver never got over that oil lease deal. Although he couldn’t prove anything, he knows what I did.”
“Reason enough, I’d say, to move in on our deal now.”
“We’d better act fast before Pritchert is approached by them. The whole thing will collapse if the old man begins questioning the deal.” Ezell took a couple of steps away and fingered petals of potted daisies on a tall table beneath a window as he pondered the problem. The Texas sun beamed across his body.
After a time, Ezell turned quickly back and shook a finger at his man. “Have your guy in Paradise drive down to Santa Lorena, and drive a loaded gasoline tanker truck back up the mountains into Paradise and then wait for instructions. I have an idea that’ll solve our problems in a flash.”
Chapter One
I don’t care about the problems you’re havin’! That order better be on the truck and on its way to the drilling site this afternoon! Got it!” Mike Hanson slammed the phone down.
“Mikey, if you don’t calm down that vein on the side of your head’s gonna explode.”
“Put a sock in it!” Mike’s face redlined. “I don’t need you tellin’ me how to handle my business.” He sprang out of the chair slapping the glass desktop. “It’s infuriating!”
“Believe me...” said best friend Edward Belew, “...I know.”
“Those lazy yahoos in shipping don’t care and then pretend to be unaware of deadlines… looking for any way possible to get out of work. Why, I oughta...” His voiced trailed to a mutter as he pressed fingertips into his temples and dropped back into his chair. “Other than line them up and fire them...” he snickered, “... or shoot them, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I hope you realize, Mike, the fate of Weaver Oilfield Tool and Supply is in a lot of capable hands, not just yours.”
Mike sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He went limp, chin meeting chest as he contemplated options. Pressing hard on the sides of his head in front of his ears, Mike tried again to squeeze away a headache. As the pain became more manageable, he realized how unfair the outburst had been to Ed. He opened an eye, training it on his buddy standing on the opposite side of the desk. “Sorry, man... didn’t mean to snap at you.
“I didn’t mean to snap at all. A sheepish grin came up. “But I seem to be doing it a lot lately. Don’t I?”
Ed pulled a chair in close to the desk and sat. He planted elbows on the front of it forming a fingertip pyramid and perching his chin atop them. He had that look—a look Mike knew well—the precursor to brotherly advice.
Mike’s head hurt just enough that he didn’t care to go for the pre-emptive strike as he normally would, watching his friend stare somewhere behind him and over his head and wondered what Ed cooked up in that conniving brain. Finally, he tired of waiting and swung a flailing gesture. “What? Don’t just sit there. Say something, if you’re going to.”
Ed’s eyes came down to connect with Mike’s. “Glad you asked. I don’t like handing out unsolicited advice.”
“Uh huh... right.” Mike rolled his eyes.
“You’ve been with Weaver Oilfield Tool and Supply for… what… twenty-one years?” Not waiting for an answer, “Man, no matter how you slice it that’s loyalty. And I’m here to tell ya, friend, there’s no one in this building that has given more to WOTS, Inc. than you.”
“Thanks,” he said rubbing his temples, “but get to the point.”
“Don’t rush me. Genius like this must be savored like fine wine.”
“That’s such a crock...”
“Maybe, but hear me out.” Ed smiled as he rose and glided around to Mike’s side, gave his friend a patronizing pat on the shoulder and then sat on the corner of the desk. “It’s obvious you have a problem. That shipping snafu is a pittance, nearly nothing in the overall scheme of things. That can mean only one thing; your objectivity and priorities have become skewed. Since I know this to be true…” he leaned over and patted Mike’s shoulder again, whispering an aside, “…Here comes the genius part.” He winked and tapped his temple with a fingertip accompanied by a cocky nod. “...You’re burned out, buddy, that’s all there is to it.” He stood, towering over Mike crossing his arms over his chest and raising a stern eyebrow. “How long has it been since you’ve enjoyed… well... anything?”
Mike threw up an accusing finger. “If you’re—“
Ed blocked the finger with an open palm. “Hang on. Let me finish. I’m not talking about a few laughs at a silly movie or swapping jokes over a beer. I mean waking up in the morning and feeling wonderful about just being alive. How long?”
Mike stared.
“You can talk now.”
“Thanks for the permission but I don’t think I want to touch it. It’s a loaded question and you know it. You still don’t seem to have come to the point of this little lecture yet.”
Ed plopped back down on the corner of the desk. “Okay, I’m going to get really serious.”
“Sorry, but you don’t do serious very well.”
“Hush. I see anger and powerlessness, a dangerous duo teaming against you. Either one could bring you down but together and unchecked the combination could do some damage.”
Mike offered a conciliatory nod. “Maybe, then again, maybe not.”
“If there ever was an unhappier man, I haven’t met him. Buddy, you’re miserable.” His nose turned slightly upward. “Just my opinion, of course.”
“Of course,” he said. “Now it’s my turn. WOTS cash flow is down dramatically. In fact some of our long-standing revenue streams have dried up entirely. The industry is losing ground. I’m looking at the likelihood of having to cut staff. I’ve done it before but I’m losing the heart for it. I don’t think I have it in me to ruin people’s lives anymore just to balance a spreadsheet.”
Ed cupped his ear. “Is that your career I hear fizzling?”
“Ed, sometimes you can be a real dipstick.”
Ed’s grin wilted away. “Look, you seldom smile and hardly ever laugh. You’ve lost your verve. You don’t seem capable of squeezing the slightest gratification from this job anymore. Day-to-day problem solving has, itself, become a problem. I think you’re building a dangerous head of steam. And, who knows... you might even go postal. Yep, I’d rather piss you off now than wait ‘til you walk in someday in the near future in a blind rage spraying bullets because someone didn’t follow the rules and sign a requisition order to buy more paper clips.”
Mike turned away. “Now you’re just spewing things.”
Ed’s eyebrows went up as he held a stern gaze on Mike.
After quiet seconds, Mike turned back and took note of Ed’s solemn look. “I’m guessing that face is for me and not for the remark I just made.”
“Yep.”
“What makes you think I’d ever do such a stupid thing?” Mike rose and stepped over to the large window overlooking downtown Midland, Texas.
“Think about it. You reamed the shipping department for an order that’s minutes… not weeks, days or even hours late. We’re talkin’ minutes, Mike… minutes. You tell me. Does that sound like something Mike Hanson would normally do?”
Mike gazed across the Midland skyline as he considered the question. He couldn’t look at his friend again until he’d come to some conclusion. Ed’s influence usually caused one of two reactions, laughter or anger. In this case neither seemed appropriate. His eyes blankly followed a plastic shopping bag carried on west Texas wind across his view of the Midland landscape on this late spring day while his hands remained clasped to his back. “So, you think that I’ve lost the capacity for a happy life. How can you possibly know that? Maybe you’re just too dense to notice.” Not hearing an immediate response, he turned. “Well?”
Ed sighed and shook his head. He smiled the smile of resignation, rolling his eyes then tossed his hands into the air. “I surrender. Someday I hope you start doing what’s good for you, my friend; not for me or your boss and absolutely not that… that wife of yours.”
Mike let the overly personal assessment slide.
Edward Belew was his closest friend and the only person between the South Plains and the Gulf of Mexico who could talk to him that way and get away with it. Ed had worked for WOTS for eleven years. A close bond developed into a cross between siblings and schoolyard chums. It was clear that Ed noticed Mike’s deterioration and would never hesitate to say whatever he deemed necessary to keep Mike from becoming depressed.
“Yep, the ol’ ball-n-chain is more like the ol’ albatross in your case.”
Mike underestimated Ed’s sincerity most of the time. Ed’s inherent laid-back and lackadaisical approach most often came across as cheeky. Unlike the rest of the world, Mike knew that attitude to be an act—an appearance perfected over years of sales experience to serve a negotiating style in closing difficult deals. At the moment, Mike struggled to keep his friend’s argument in perspective, shaking a warning finger at Ed while sporting a lopsided grin. “You just wait. Someday you’re going to meet a girl that’ll turn your world upside down. And when you do... wham!” He slammed a fist into his palm. “Your view of marriage will never be the same again.”
Ed snickered. “Yeah, right.” He laughed. “When that happens I hope my balls stay a little fuzzier than yours have. She does a tap dance on you and you do nothing to stop her. You’re a pal but you’re still a weenie.”
“That’s cold-blooded.”
“Even standing on my head, I think I’d recognize when give and take turns into give, give, give. You’re the giver… in case I needed to point that out. And God-all mighty, does she ever do some serious takin’?”
“Hey! That’s my wife you’re talkin’ about.”
“Your point?”
“The point is; Brenda does a lot of good in this community. She works with several charitable organizations. She’s a giving person and don’t you forget that.”
Ed’s eyes opened wide then let out a belly laugh. “Yeah, she gives of everybody else’s time and your money. Wake up Mike! You—“
“That’s enough, Ed!” The warning finger turned rigid. “Shut up.” Mike returned to a more formal position standing behind his desk ready to mete out a reprimand for such a brutal invasion into his personal life. He quickly discovered he couldn’t—not to Ed. Maybe I have lost my verve. He sank down into his chair—argument evaporating before it started.
Although not a quitter in business or in love, he long ago vowed to do everything possible to make a successful and happy marital union but he also knew the problems with his marriage to Brenda were for the exact reasons Ed pointedly spoke of.
He wanted to defend her. He should defend her, but as he looked to his buddy in a calculating way, he eventually huffed pent up frustration out his nostrils and chose not to. He just didn’t have the wherewithal at the moment. It’s probably just the tension here at work. Mike didn’t want to delve into his wife’s shortcomings. It’d be a debate he couldn’t win without shading the truth. That, itself, was a riddle he had to get a handle on someday, but not today.
Brenda Hanson had become trapped in the allure of elite social circles. Mike never lost sight of that shy Texas farm girl he’d married, refusing to believe changes were anything other than playing a role. Maybe she felt obligated. He bore responsibility for that because of his position in the community. But he wasn’t sure that was the case. Uncertainty kept Ed’s admonition ringing true.
“Ed, why don’t we go to lunch and not come back?”
“Wow! That would be a major deviation… for you anyway.”
“I know, but you struck a nerve that’s resonating. Not about my wife, mind you, but about needing time away.” He slapped the top of the desk with both hands, jumped to his feet and declared, “I need a vacation.”
“True, but I don’t think an afternoon of playing hooky qualifies as a vacation.”
“Don’t be smart with me.”
“All I’m sayin’ is that you haven’t taken a full day off since Christmas. For Christ’s sake, it’s the first week of June! You need rest... serious relaxation, not just an afternoon off. I’d say at least a week.” He backed up to a sofa across the office and dropped. Twiddling his thumbs and grinning, Ed waited for a response appearing as though he had no intention of leaving without hearing commitment to his idea.
Taking only a couple of plodding steps toward Ed, he stopped, nibbled his lower lip and looked to his shuffling toe. He lifted his hands and dropped them into his pant pockets. For the first time in several years, Mike was giving serious consideration to one of Ed’s suggestions.
Chapter Two
Katy faced Grant Peak, hands stuffed to the bottoms of her blue jean pockets. She breathed in the view, inhaling cool dry mountain air kissed by the morning sun, a daily ritual and no better way to start each new one. Grant sported remnants of a snowcap even as summer was about to begin. A small thing, but one she refused to compromise on, enjoying the grandeur and offering a bittersweet prayer of thanks. Time had lessened the pain but Katy still grieved for husband, Bob. This moment reserved for herself each day helped. No matter where she happened to be or what she did, the memory of his passing remained fresh, but now manageable.
Too many things reminded Katy of Bob and were usually followed by a sobering slap that she’d never see him again. Married eleven years, they’d lived in Albuquerque. Bob founded and owned a successful accounting firm, allowing Katy to be a full-time housewife and mother. She excelled at it—no desire to be part of the professional world. Family was everything, twenty four-seven. She loved him. She loved the life.
“I never tire of that view either,” came an abrupt voice from behind.
Startled, Katy’s shoulders shuddered before realizing it was just her father coming to join her. She looked over a shoulder and smiled. “That view… this place… and you are the only three things between me and insanity.” She drew a breath, doing a quick double-take glance back. “Not necessarily in that order, mind you.” She stepped backwards into Eldon’s arms.
He wrapped her up locking chubby fingers together around her waist then dropping his chin onto her shoulder. They faced Grant Peak with quiet reverence. She snuggled her head against his cheek and enjoyed the embrace of her father—a man she could not love enough. Katy welcomed his presence in her morning custom.
Eldon Pritchert understood the grief she lived with. Before Bob’s death, Katy had lost her mother at fourteen, a crushing blow to them both and a major life’s change. Gwynn Pritchert had been the victim of a congenital heart defect.
Katy glanced sideways at her father, recalling a sudden vivid image of her mother, a stark reminder that she and thirteen-year-old son, Josh, were the only things her father had left to cling to in his twilight years. After twenty-two years without her mother, she and her father’s pain over that loss had softened but never disappeared. Gentle memories replaced tears that she and her father shared and enjoyed. Katy’s presence filled a void for him. She had no plans for changing that.
Eldon looked the part of a modern day mountain man, thinning gray hair and a full snow-white beard. He had few vices, except for that pipe smoldering in his hand. Katy occasionally preached on living a healthy life. But a few things Eldon guarded jealously; that pipe for one and his biscuits and gravy every morning; Sunday mornings that combination included grits and bacon, too. She told him something had to go. He gave up bacon. A minor victory she accepted and pressed no further. Seldom did she see him during waking hours without the curved stem of that pipe clenched between his teeth and a fine curl of smoke rising from it. Short and portly, he stood barely taller than Katy. The permanent addition of red suspenders left the impression he could be an off-season Santa. Although occasionally nagging him about smoking, she couldn’t envision living in this setting without that cozy sweet smell of black rum-soaked tobacco. She sometimes wondered if his appearance wasn’t as much for tourists, exuding an image that fit like a puzzle piece in this mountain setting, a reflection of quiet strength, log cabins and fresh air. The environment suited his look. Or, could it be the other way around?
“Dad, every day I give thanks for you. You know that?” She kissed his chubby knuckles now draped over her shoulder. “I don’t know where I’d be today if you hadn’t been here. There’s no better medicine for me than you and Paradise.”
“That’s what dads are for.”
“Oh really? There are millions of men out there who wouldn’t do for their adult children what you’ve done for Josh and me.”
“Humph. Let me rephrase that. That’s what this dad is for.”
The word dad put her mind right back on Josh’s father. By the time Robert Myers sought medical help for his headaches an inoperable malignant brain tumor had reached the size of a lemon. Bob died within two months of the diagnosis. Katy went into denial forcing a delay in the grieving process creating complacency in matters concerning Bob’s business. She placed unwarranted trust that his employees would handle the business.
Left with no training and an incomplete college education, Katy had been thrust into a precarious situation. Then reality came crashing in on her and grief became blinding. In the midst of it, family savings dwindled. Finally noticing, she panicked.
When a competitor of Bob’s accounting firm approached her, she, too quickly, accepted an offer to sell his business only to discover how unscrupulous the deal was. Broke and alone, Katy’s world fell apart. Life became like running on a bridge collapsing behind her. Even worse, she ran on empty and considered suicide. The only reason she didn’t was Josh.
“It’s a perfect day, Dad,” she said.
“Yeah, it is...” He stroked her hair and dropped his arms turning back toward the small rustic resort. “...and now is a perfect time to get to work, too.” He began walking down the hill to Paradise Mountain Resort, a cluster of small cabins Eldon bought after Gwynn’s death. He came to know the healing power of it and happy that Katy and Josh chose to share it.
Katy couldn’t yet abandon her moment. “I’ll be down shortly. I need a few more minutes.”
Eldon glanced back. “Not a problem, Hon. Take all the time you need.”
She remembered how forceful her father had been, encouraging her to sell her house and furniture and move to Paradise, tucked into this high valley at the base of Grant Peak in the foothills of the Rockies in northern New Mexico. It took time to come to terms with such a weighty decision but, eventually, she not only accepted the move but also had come to embrace it. Splitting time looking at the mountain and watching her father walk away, she thought: You saved my life.
Chapter Three
Still hesitant to make a decision, Mike walked to his office door but stopped once his hand wrapped the knob. He considered his options but nothing came to him. Guilt began to sully desire; company loyalty and dangling responsibilities seemed to tip the scale on every thought in favor of work. He watched people moving up and down the corridor going about the daily business of keeping Weaver Oilfield Tool and Supply a viable concern. Having no plan, he finally began walking the long corridor anyway, exit sign in sight. Now what?
Getting out of the building and clearing his head was as close to a plan as he could muster but considered it a good start. He had to get his body away from this place to get his mind off work and on to thoughts of vacation. Maybe a course of action would come once this hectic environment was in his rearview mirror. As long as he remained in the building everything reminded him of things undone.
With every step closer to that glowing red exit sign resolve strengthened—his paced quickened. It didn’t come easy, but his focus began to narrow to the door that opened to the outside, facing the parking lot at the side of this six-story home office building of WOTS, Incorporated. If he dallied, he’d certainly see a problem that needed attention—a deal breaker for sure. He couldn’t chance it. So, he kept his step quick and his eyes on that door. The noon hour approached. People would soon stream from the building heading for favorite lunchtime haunts. Mike wanted to beat that rush.
He promised Ed; more importantly he promised himself that the afternoon would be spent planning a vacation. He left pending projects with his friend, comfortable that things would be handled in a timely manner. As silly as Ed acted sometimes, he always took care of business and, by extension, Mike. If he doesn’t keep it covered, I’ll have his butt. He smiled.
Walking fast across the parking lot, he pointed the electronic key pad at his car and hit the button. Car door locks clicked. He slung the door open, slid in and cranked it. Pulling away, he stopped at the exit of the lot onto the street. A guilt pang hit as a sudden image of incomplete contracts on his desk kept his foot on the brake a moment longer. Shaking it off, he pulled into traffic steering in the general direction of home.
As he threaded a maze of streets Mike allowed his mind free rein—the drive home so ingrained it took no special concentration. The car might even be able to get home without him. His career never had been eight o’clock-in-five o’clock-out like everyone else. His position called for frequent late nights and ridiculously early morning trips as well, depending on the problems of the day and often unexpected.
He wondered how best to handle a vacation destination, drumming fingers atop the steering wheel. Visions of beaches, sidewalk cafes and museums paraded through his mind’s eye. It suddenly occurred to him he listened to John Denver singing Rocky Mountain High on the radio. “Humph”. Why not? I’m tired of being a flatlander. The idea nestled comfortably in his thoughts.
Then he noticed a sign that normally went unnoticed; but today was different. It read: Treasure Island Travel Agency. Maybe they can help me. Palm trees and the likeness of a sandy beach under a yellow sun adorned the colorful sign across the front of the building. Now it seemed no matter what he heard or saw, all things began pointing to a getaway.
Mike whipped the car to the outside lane. With slightly dangerous determination, he slammed the brakes and squealed the tires, turning right into the travel agency’s parking lot without signaling. The careless move forced traffic to abruptly adjust, disrupting flow in both lanes—an impulse, happening without regard for possible consequences. Once in a parking place he paused, realizing the spontaneous maneuver would net a traffic citation if caught. He furtively looked about searching for a Midland police cruiser feeling silly. If he’d been a cop and saw someone else do what he’d just pulled, he wouldn’t have hesitated writing a ticket for such a reckless turn. Mike had never gotten a citation. Today his luck held. No police in sight.
He felt like a teenager having just gotten away with something, breaking the rules, a rebel. He strutted for the front door of the travel agency.
Just before Mike succumbed to Ed’s insistence to take a vacation, his friend had told him something that still dogged him. “When a person commits suicide it’s usually a sudden act of violence to get it done before good sense sets in, like a bullet in the head or leaping off a tall building. But you, buddy, are committing suicide in tiny bites. The only difference is how long it’s going to take before you’re dead. And that’s the only difference.” Ed’s warning resonated as his workload and stresses at home mounted.
Entering the small agency, a dainty bell tinkled over the door. “Come in,” came a feminine voice from behind a revolving rack of tri-folded brochures. A middle-aged woman with a pleasant smile appeared around it. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He smiled and shrugged. “Not sure. Don’t really know yet what I want?”
“Ah... I hear that often.” She nodded. “And, I know exactly what you mean. There’s a big world out there. Why don’t you look over those brochures in that rack?” She pointed to a colorful display. “Maybe that’ll generate some ideas.”
His eyes followed her finger. “Thanks.”
Mike rummaged through a dizzying array of slick printed pieces promising glitz, glamour, excitement and a myriad of enticing things to see and do. But there was something unappealing about that type of vacation. Those getaways don’t sound relaxing at all. I crave quiet and calm.
Then a pamphlet caught his eye. It was plain, unadorned, without so much as free clipart from an Internet download site. Black print on a blue sheet of paper headed: A Little Paradise Just For You. It appeared to have been a copy of a copy of a copy—so many black flecks it looked as though it’d been sprinkled with something and the lettering no longer crisp. He marveled at its simplicity. Just the appearance of the flyer exuded a laid-back lifestyle, nothing taken too seriously. He envisioned someone designing it on a home computer and that was its charm. Something about it reeled in his interest.
Warmth came over him as he reached for the paper partially hidden behind many others and pulled it out. As he began to read, he smiled. This is exactly what I need. I just didn’t know it until I saw it. Destination? Paradise Mountain Resort. He reread it several times, becoming more convinced each time he did.
The brochure noted its location high in the mountains of northern New Mexico with its own mirror-like lake and private rustic log cabins with kitchenettes. He slid a hand over the surface of the paper concocting a mental image. It wasn’t difficult to imagine long walks and fly-fishing. Evenings spent sitting and listening to the quiet. He stared beyond the brochure rack out the window across the hectic Midland, Texas street—cars speeding, honking and jockeying for position. He didn’t care about any of that. He daydreamed. All he saw was a personal vision of paradise.
Chapter Four
Dad, how do bookings look for next week?”
Eldon finger-combed his snowy beard. “Well,” he said, drawing out the word, “I suppose it could be worse. We have eight reservations, three for the entire week.”
Katy huffed. “That’s it? That’s all?”
“It’s not as bad as you’re making it sound, hon.”
“What about that call a few minutes ago? Was that a new reservation?”
“Some fella from Midland is bringing his wife. He wants to stay for the entire week.”
Katy brightened. “Okay then. We’ll just have to work extra hard to ensure those folks enjoy it so much they’ll be back every year.” She clapped her hands turning to thirteen-year-old Josh. “You and I have work to do. We have to make sure they have a pleasant stay. In other words, young man, they’ve gotta have fun.”
Joshua Lee Myers was eleven when his father died. Katy looked through grief and beyond suicide for his sake. Gangly and pimple-faced, the teenager had reached the age of tingling hormones. A mother knows when curiosity turns to fantasies and Katy saw it in Josh. The boy checked the guest list as she twiddled a pencil between fingers, watching, grinning. She knew he looked for girls’ names. It was difficult, isolated from kids his age.
The boy was taller than his mother but physically undeveloped and clumsy. Awkwardness came in another form, too. Basically a good kid, Josh lacked social skills to interact with strangers. He spent most free time exploring the woods and rocky outcroppings of Grant, all the while fantasizing about girls. “Grampa?”
Eldon’s attention remained on the reservation book. “Uh-huh.” His eyes finally pulled away from the chore to look up into the boy’s face. “What is it Josh?”
Josh raised both hands with crossed fingers and asked, “That guy from Midland, is he bringin’ any kids? Do you know? Did he say anything about it?”
Eldon chuckled. “You really mean girls, don’t you?”
His cheeks reddened. “Uh, okay.”
“Sorry. He only made reservations for two, him and his wife.” Eldon placed his right index finger on Josh’s nose. “And she’s not available. Now don’t you be puttin’ the moves on her, ya hear?”
The rose on his cheeks left and he joined the joke. “No kiddin’! Like that’s gonna happen.”
Katy was thankful she’d stopped quibbling with her father two years ago about moving to Paradise. At the time she saw it as temporary, simply a pause to regroup and develop clearer vision of her somewhat murky future. Now, this place high in the mountains had become the future. She looked no further, thankful for what it was doing for Josh, although questions remained because there was a downside to isolation. As she watched Josh walk away, “Dad, am I making a mistake? I mean shouldn’t I make more of an effort to get Josh involved with kids his own age?”
It happened to be a question worthy of consideration since Eldon saw fit to remove the pipe from his mouth. “I don’t think it’s as bad as you might imagine.” His reply came hesitatingly. “Josh seems content enough to me. He’s pretty well-adjusted for a hormonal thirteen-year-old, I’d say.”
Katy puffed air into her cheeks and then blew it out cocking her head to the side. “Do you really think so?”
“Look at him.” Eldon pointed toward the lad skipping and jogging across the compound through the still-open door. “Josh loves it up here. I think he’ll be a better man for it, too.”
She sighed. “You might be right. I realize that living here benefits me and I know he loves it, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s good for him being alone so much?”
“Katy, Josh is happy. He’s better off than most kids his age.” He covered her hand with his and winked. As he drew a grin, he replaced the smoldering pipe between his teeth. “Maybe he’d be happier with sex, drugs and rock-n-roll.”
“Point made... but you don’t need to get tacky.” She came to understand that her father knew her better than she knew herself and Josh, too. She held a gaze on her father as he strutted away, chuckling, pleased with his bit of humor. She wagged a finger at him. “I know you’re just being silly, but you’re probably right.”
With mock surprise, “You mean it’s possible you thought otherwise?” He laughed then pulled the pencil from behind his ear to continue working on the books.
Katy’s faith had been renewed. Paradise was the right place for Josh to grow up although she remained aware that the right and wrong of it might still be questioned on occasion. I worry too much. But isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?
Eldon and Paradise had become such integral parts of their lives, she didn’t want to tinker too much with what she had.
Chapter Five
Mike stabbed the key into the lock on the front door of his home before noticing it was unlocked and ajar. Thinking his wife might be home, he rushed in. “Hey, Bren!”
Getting no answer, he tossed his sport coat over a chair beside the front door. “Bren, where are you?” He walked the big house and searched, poking his head in every open door he passed. He threw open a bedroom door. “Yoo-hoo?”
No answer. He moved on.
Energized with good news to share, he walked with a spring in his step. “Honey, I have great news,” he said louder yet. “We’re going to take a vacation and get out of town for awhile. What do you say to that?”
He approached a family room at the end of the hallway through double French doors. One of the twin doors stood open. A shuffling noise greeted him from the other side.
“Great!” came the response. “Where’re you taking us?”
Mike had already marched through the open door into the family room before it occurred to him the voice was not Brenda’s. He spun on his heels. “What the—“
“Hi, Pop. How are ya?”
“Jojo! You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry.” She grinned. “But it’s nice I could surprise you.”
“I thought someone had broken into the house.”
“Yep, I’m one dangerous chick, all right. Best not be forgettin’ that, podna.” She snorted, took a swipe across her nose and pretended to spit.
“I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you planned on staying in Lubbock through the summer and work full time at the restaurant until the fall semester started.” He pulled her in and hugged her. “What happened... nothing bad I hope?” He pecked her on the cheek.
She kissed him back. “I didn’t get fired if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Your sudden appearance sort of suggests it. Wouldn’t you say?”
She stepped away. “Humph. Never thought about it… guess it does.” She flipped her wrist dismissively. “Not to worry, Pop. All is well in table-waiting land.”
“You had me worried for a second.”
“Honestly, I planned to stay through the summer but my apartment and my job are so close to campus, I couldn’t get my mind off school. That’s no way to spend a vacation break.” Her face went into an apologetic scrunch. “I think I’ve got a burnout thing going. I need down time.”
“You, too, huh?”
“Sounds like we both need time away. Frankly, Pop, I need a real vacation. Someplace that’s far away from the daily grind.”
“Can’t fault you for that.”
She pecked him on the cheek again. “You’re the bestest daddy in the whole wide world,” she said in a little girl voice complete with pouty lip, an expressive package Mike knew well. She paced away. “I have to admit it was a snap decision. It took me all of a minute to make it… give or take thirty seconds.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I woke up this morning, called the restaurant and said I was going home to Midland for the summer and wouldn’t be back ‘til fall.”
“Wow! You make up your mind to do something and wham! It’s done.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You are okay with that, aren’t you?”
Margaret Jolene Hanson was Mike and Brenda’s only child. Mike had called her Jojo since she was a toddler. At twenty-two, Jojo was a marketing/advertising major at Texas Tech University but an athlete at heart. Involved in strength and endurance training, she loved the competition of physically challenging games. Slightly taller than her mother at five-ten and in peak physical condition, Jojo worked at remaining that way—polar opposite of her mother. She loved showing off her physique. On this day, it happened to be tight hip-hugging jeans topped by a simple white t-shirt knotted at the bottom to expose the diamond stud in her pierced navel. The ensemble highlighted rippling abdominal muscles set in the middle of a pronounced pelvis exposed above the waistband of her jeans and supporting the lacy elastic of a thong.
Mike tapped the tip of her nose. “Of course it’s okay, Honey. You’ve worked hard and deserve time away.” He snapped his fingers then waggled one at her. “I bet I can even call Paradise Mountain Resort and get a two bedroom cabin if you’re serious and want to go with us.”
“Paradise… what? Where’s that?”
“It’s called Paradise Mountain Resort... a small, out-of-the-way resort near Grant Peak in northern New Mexico.”
“Ooh, the mountains. Sounds great! I’m tired of landscape with no character. Count me in.”
“Have you seen your mother since you’ve been home?”
Jojo started to answer but didn’t have to. The front door slammed. Brenda Jo Hanson glided through the foyer into the family room. The dainty flowing walk stood in sharp contrast to her appearance—buttocks rhythmically rolling with each step and shimmering beneath a satiny dress that hung loose from the shoulders. So caught up in rich living and rich eating, her weight had ballooned. With each pound gained, she compensated by wearing more makeup, more jewelry and too much perfume—over the top on just about everything. “Mike, you’re not going to believe what happened at the club during lunch,” she gushed as she entered the room proudly displaying a fresh manicure unaware that Jojo stood beside the door.
Jojo didn’t wait for her to realize it either. “I’m sure it was gripping and socially significant.”
Brenda whirled around.
Jojo hadn’t seen her mother in several months and eyed her from head to toe, shocked at the rapid weight gain. She believed her mother could stand as a model for a cartoonist’s caricature of the snobbishly wealthy.
Brenda took a couple of quick steps towards her daughter ignoring the acrimonious tone. From about three feet she leaned forward and kissed the air between them. “Hi, Honey.”
Jojo said nothing, as if she might be waiting for the rest of the greeting.
Brenda turned away. As she did, “It’s nice to see you home.”
Jojo crossed her arms over her chest beneath her breasts and wrinkled her brow in a look that might have been a smile, but it also could have been a grimace. “Thanks for that warm reception.”
Brenda ignored the comment.
Jojo muttered, “A hug would’ve been nice.”
“Mike,” Brenda said, “Paula Engleman told me that they were going to enlarge their swimming pool just because Freida and George had built a larger kidney shaped pool. Do you think we could—?”
“Mom!” Jojo blurted. “Pop has great news for us.” She snatched up her father’s hand and pulled him close to her mother and arbitrarily gave him the floor. “Go ahead, Pop, tell her.”
Brenda huffed. “All right. What is this great news?”
It didn’t matter that Mike had made a reputation as a forceful manager at Weaver Oilfield Tool and Supply, he always felt emasculated when Jojo and her mother bickered, which was every time the two of them were in the same room for more than a few seconds. With diminishing enthusiasm, “I’ve made reservations for next week at a small mountain resort in New Mexico. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” The defensive smile that came with the news was delayed.
Jojo then snorted, frustrated, rolling her eyes.
Mike disregarded it. If submissive behavior was called for to maintain peace then that’s what he’d do—so be it. He hoped Jojo saw it as respect and not fear of Brenda’s domineering personality.
Brenda’s jaw went slack. “Are we talking log huts, wild animals and lack of civilization?” She widened her stance, planting hands on ample hips as bangles tinkled on both wrists.
Mike’s head slumped. “Well, yeah… but—“
“You bet that’s what Pop’s talkin’ about.” Jojo threw her arm around his neck and looked back at her mother. “It’s going to be a beautiful, peaceful week. It’d take a mindless dolt not to realize just how wonderful it’ll be.”
All the money Mike had spent on dental work over the years became apparent in his daughter’s brilliant smile.
Brenda’s face went dour. “Margaret Jolene Hanson, if you’re calling me an airhead, I’m going to—“
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Mother. All I’m saying is you’re too smart not to realize what a magnificent vacation week it’s going to be.” The big smile metamorphosed into a Cheshire cat grin.
Brenda was cornered. His daughter had bested her mother. If Brenda responded negatively then she would, in fact, be a mindless dolt by Jojo’s reckoning. And that realization was clear on Brenda’s face.
“Okay. I’ll go. But, I’ll need almost a whole new wardrobe… jeans, hiking boots, maybe a waterproof coat and, let me think…” Brenda tapped her teeth with a fingernail and paced, staring off into space as if she were deciding the fate of the world. She became oblivious to anyone else in the room as she came to embrace the idea of a trip to the mountains as her own, determined to have the perfect clothes for it.
“Of course you need all that stuff. You just wouldn’t be my mother if it were any other way.” Jojo sighed but then let it go and turned her attention to Mike.
There was nothing Mike could think to say that would improve the outcome. So, that’s what he said—nothing, just winked at Jojo then dropped the brochure on the table.
Chapter Six
Jojo had begun to wonder if vacationing with her parents was such a great idea. She questioned whether the amount of fun could possibly outweigh being trapped in the car with her mother for hours. Once there, it’d be enjoyable, sure. But it was her father’s company she craved and knew beyond doubt her mother would treat her as the invisible child in the backseat just like she always did, chattering on and on about pretentious junk. Jojo loved her mother, but didn’t like what she’d become. After some thought, it came to her that she was a freshman in high school the last time she’d been confined with both parents for an entire week and remembered how overbearing and hollow her mother had been even back then. From that time until now her mother had actually taken it down a peg or two. Why does she try so hard to fit some imaginary mold? Jojo didn’t have an ostentatious bone in her body, unambiguous about feelings and beliefs at all times. If Jojo wasn’t in someone’s face on an issue she disagreed with, that, to her, was dishonest. Possessing innate magnetism, she had a personality that drew people in. She enjoyed behaving any way she saw fit, a rare breed that never angered anyone or feared reprisals, although never hesitating to give voice to whatever crossed her mind.
Her mother, on the other hand, developed a compulsion to exaggerate herself and her tiny self-serving universe. Everything Brenda became involved in was glossed over for appearances—no substance. She belonged to three clubs, the type that insisted members live a certain way, dress accordingly and live up to a snobbish standard. Places that set the membership above and apart from the crowd. Charity work thinly masked highbrow elitism. They loved helping the poor but the altruistic nature of it was lip service. Truth was it kept the demarcation between them and the have-nots boldly unmistakable. Jojo often thought that if she cared enough to research it, there’d be fascinating reading in a book about the underbelly of charity work by the wealthy and what it really meant.
Over the years, she watched her mother slip to a disgusting level. Brenda degraded, settling into a life that hovered above the masses as part of a small group that lauded accomplishments that didn’t exist and awarded one another for achievements that meant nothing to the world at large. Although they tried, she and her father couldn’t change what Brenda had become. Common sense didn’t have a place in her mother’s world anymore.
As much as she loved her father, he frustrated her where it concerned her mother because he didn’t fight for her, full well knowing the problem. To Jojo, her mother had a disease; in a strange twist of definition—a social disease that needed treatment and intervention. She took comfort knowing her father quietly rooted for her when she confronted her mother because, like her, his vision was unclouded about what Brenda had become. But how he chose to handle it mystified Jojo. He never saw Brenda’s behavior as dangerous, merely annoying.
“It would’ve been nice if you’d left space back here for Daddy and me,” Jojo told her mother as she struggled to cram a small suitcase into a forward area of the trunk.
“I’ll not be apologizing to you or anyone else for traveling prepared.” Brenda flung open the passenger side door and dropped into the seat.
“I didn’t think you would,” Jojo muttered with a grunt, still trying to fit her luggage into the trunk.
Mike stepped in and pushed Jojo’s hands aside. “Let me help with that, hon.”
“Is your luggage under all this crap somewhere?”
Mike grinned. “I’ve lived with your mother long enough to know how much to pack and, more importantly, to get mine in the trunk first.”
“Sort of a first-piggy-to-the-trough rule, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Jojo remembered her father choosing to ignore the whispered advice of close friends that counseling might help Brenda. On observation, it was interesting that when her mother looked into a mirror the reflection she saw certainly didn’t match what Jojo saw; one of sophistication, intelligence and benevolence—a strange blindness that scoped everything but saw nothing.
Finally, all the bags had been stowed. Neither spare nook nor cranny remained unfilled.
Jojo claimed the entire backseat as her domain.
Mike climbed in behind the wheel.
With a sparkle in his eyes, “I dub this the new and improved Hanson family vacation; improved because we haven’t done anything like this in over five years and new… for the same reason.” He laughed.
Brenda sighed. “Whatever. Let’s go. The quicker we start the sooner we get home.”
“Can’t you just feel the excitement, Pop?” Jojo said, pumping her palms to the ceiling.
Ignoring Brenda’s terseness and Jojo’s sarcasm, “I can’t speak for your mother but I am excited.”
Sometimes, Jojo wanted to grab her father by the shoulders and shake him whenever he stepped back and allowed her mother to reel so far out of control like he did. But, today, she struggled against her nature wanting to make him happy. Jojo’s sarcastic attitude softened. She smiled. “Yeah, Daddy... me, too.”
With a wink and a nod, Mike dropped the car into gear. They were off for the drive across the New Mexico desert to the mountains beyond.
Jojo stared at the back of her father’s head and those happy eyes in the rearview mirror. In that expression, she saw the man he’d been when she was younger, the man who carried her on his shoulders, the man who laughed so loud in public it embarrassed her. She’d almost forgotten the father he’d been back then. Then she looked to her mother who stared out the window at passing scenery, remembering the mother she’d been and missed that version of her. She wanted that woman back. I’m not giving up until I tighten the weave on this family. “Yeppers, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Mike straightened and looked at her in the mirror. “What?”
“Nothin’. Just sharing your excitement about the trip.”
From the moment the luggage was loaded and the three of them were in and ready to go, Jojo suspected a mother-daughter conflict of some making inevitable. How could it be otherwise, confined together in such a small area. But she didn’t see that as bad.
She grinned when she looked at the rearview mirror and saw her father’s smiling eyes.
He noticed and winked at her.
Her mother’s perfume was typically strong and filled the car with its nose tickling aroma. For her father’s benefit, she rolled her eyes, bugged them large, tweaked her nose and fanned the air in front of her face.
A few more miles down the road and he sneezed. Jojo laughed.
Brenda looked back at her. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothin’ Momma. You can go back to dreaming about jewelry at Neimann Marcus and salivating over the merchandise.”
“Humph. I can’t believe you’d talk to your own mother like that. And you, Mike, shouldn’t be allowing it.”
You’re right,” he said then glanced over his shoulder. “Watch that mouth of yours youngun.”
“I’m sorry.” Her shocked look metamorphosed into a grin and she poked a fingertip in her dimple. “Did I tell an untruth, Mommy?”
“Just hush.”
Considerable time passed with no argument. They drove across the rugged terrain of southeastern New Mexico, rocky hills strewn with cacti and scrubby brush common to arid regions of the southwest. To keep herself entertained, Jojo continued frequent gagging and hacking noises. Brenda remained oblivious to the reason for it. I bet this is what a New Orleans whorehouse smells like.
Jojo had been content with just the game until her mother retrieved a cell phone from her purse and pecked in a number then began a conversation with a club crony. After a few minutes it became clear Brenda had no plan to end the conversation soon, chattering on and on until a dying battery cut her off. She fretted and whined over her terrible misfortune. Her mother committed the ultimate social faux paux. Brenda might as well have announced that her husband and daughter weren’t interesting enough and had to make a phone call to fill some perceived void. Jojo fumed.
The scenery leveled out. They drove over a broad treeless plain, the hazy outline of a mountain range had become visible in the distance. A small country store came into view on the left, standing in sharp contrast to the landscape, a stark bump on the horizon. Aside from the store, the land was flat featureless.
Mike pulled off the highway. Gravel crunched under the tires, as he steered into the parking area of the small store. He glanced at Brenda then Jojo. “Pee break. Better not waste the opportunity.”
They were at a crossroads. Besides the store, the only other manmade objects within view in any direction were stop signs at the intersection—nothing else worthy of note as far as she could see except those mountains in the distance like dirt piles on a tabletop.
“This may be our last chance to stretch legs and take a restroom break for awhile,” he said.
Brenda gawked at the general condition of the little store. Her jaw slackened, lips parting. “I’ll tell you right now those restrooms had better be clean or my bare butt won’t be touching those toilet seats.”
“For heaven’s sake, Mother, just go get it done. All you’re going to do is pee, not have lunch on the floor.”
Brenda struggled to get her expansive derrière out of the car. As Jojo watched her mother walk away, she patted her father’s shoulder and scooted forward in the seat. “Ya know what, Pop? Someday you ought to find a nice girl, get married and settle down. Life could be sweet.”
Her father angered. In a measured head turn, he looked back and stared her down.
She couldn’t prevent an evil grin from sprouting.
“I am married. The one I’m married to is your mother for God’s sake.” Through the irritation he almost smiled. “Don’t be talking like that.”
She saw that his annoyance masked amusement. The appearance of a stern disciplinarian dribbled away. His face changed. He drew a stupid grin and shook his head. “That was a stupid thing to say.
“True. But if you were with someone else she’d still be my mother and I’d still love her. Marriage is overrated. A piece of paper and a vow got you two together. All it’d take is another piece of paper. Think about it, Pop, to disavow might be your ticket to happiness.” Jojo became serious when her father turned away intent on cutting her off, possibly before he became truly angry.
“Look, Daddy,” she said, leaving her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “Someday, Mom will have to take responsibility… heck, any measure of accountability would do… for whom she’s become and what she should contribute to the relationship.”
Mike stared straight ahead to the front door of the store, waiting for Brenda to reappear.
Jojo slid closer craning her neck trying to get her father to face her again. “Mom is living in some kind of high and mighty dream world. Can’t you see that you’re facilitating that? I love Mom, too. But, I don’t like what she’s become.”
Mike swung around in his seat to face her. “Jojo! That’s enough! I don’t want to hear anymore about it! Understand?”
All she could figure was that he was bent on preserving the family at any price. She slammed back into the seat saying no more but wanted her displeasure known and explicit. It was a battle worth fighting but maybe not at the moment. With pursed lips she nodded, quietly vowing to enjoin this battle again soon.
She slid forward again and leaned in kissing the angry wrinkle on his forehead. “Yeah, Pop, I really do understand… very well.”
Chapter Seven
Josh, run over and unlock number six. Leave it open and let it air out. Take some pine scented freshener with you and spray it around.” Without looking up, she held out the key to him.
With light bookings, she felt the pressure and took no chances. Even one unsatisfactory comment might throw a little resort like this into the red if so much as a single refund became necessary on even one night’s bill. She did everything in her power to be a good hostess and prove Paradise Mountain Resort worthy of return visits. Several newly booked guests were scheduled to arrive. It happened to be the new names on the list that created a sense of urgency to get it right.
Josh pretended ignorance and appeared lost when she asked him to take the extra measure on cabin number six. He donned his favorite slack-jaw-and-shrug-of-the-shoulders look, not wanting to be involved with the drudgework of readying accommodations.
“Go Josh! Number six! You know, the one with the big pine tree by the front porch. The Hanson’s from Midland changed their reservations. They’re bringing a daughter and need a two bedroom.”
Josh instantly brightened. “They have a daughter?” His mood suddenly took a turn.
Katy saw juvenile lust in his eyes. She stopped fretting long enough to drop guarded hands on her hips. “Yeah, female child, otherwise called a daughter.”
The boy now had a mission. He clearly didn’t want to offend the potential love of his life. Crisply saluting his mother, he snatched the key from her extended hand and turned to run.
“Wait a minute. Don’t forget the air freshener.”
Stopping abruptly, he stumbled forward. “Oh yeah.” He spun, trotted back, snatched up the aerosol can from the counter and again was on his way, stepping lively through the door then sprinting to number six.
Katy snickered as her son’s demeanor changed in a flash transforming into an energetic dynamo. He finally found something more interesting than exploring. Her smile faded when she remembered other things that needed attention and went right back into manic mode, flitting from one task to the next.
“Slow down, girl,” her father said. “Everything’ll be fine. If you’re not calm and feeling good, the guests will pick up on that. Remember, Paradise is all about relaxation and beauty of the mountains. If you’re not careful, your fear will become self-fulfilling.” He struck a match on the adjustment buckle of his suspenders. It popped then flared. Holding it to his pipe, he puffed.
She stared blankly for a second. The sulphur smell of the match wafted up her nose. The cautionary words were simple enough but at the moment profound. She dropped the clipboard on the desk with a clank. “You’re right. How do you manage to keep it in perspective and stay so bloody calm about it?”
He blew smoke then smiled. “Age dear… just age. Shootfire, I don’t have enough energy to get nervous or excited anymore.” He laughed, belly bouncing. The laugh turned into a sentimental sigh. He put a chubby arm around her and squeezed. “You know, Hon, the town council down in Paradise put together a family night dance at the Pavilion. It seems they want to try a new summer tradition for families. It might be good for you. Once all the guests are settled in, you ought to take Josh and make some new friends.”