***
The twin-engine plane swayed as a gust of wind caught at its wings. Donna gazed out the window at the dark green forest below. The deep green, interrupted here and there with groves of aspen trees just leafing out and occasional grassy meadows, spread across the hills. A few patches of snow were still visible even now that it was almost May.
A quiver of excitement ran through Donna. This was Ross’s hometown, where he and Cindy had lived their life together. Flagstaff. The name brought images of Route 66 nostalgia, quaint tourist traps and old-fashioned diners to serve the people driving to the golden land of California. Now Donna was heading the other direction. The line of the old song ran through her head “Get your kicks on Route 66.” The flight attendant’s voice came over the speaker. “Please return your seats and tray tables to their full, upright positions. We will be landing shortly.”
A small bump and they were on the runway. The plane slowed to a crawl, taxiing toward the terminal. The door of the plane folded down to create a stairway. Donna descended with the other passengers, squinting in the bright sunlight. A breeze brought a whiff of pine as she collected her carryon bag from gate check and walked toward the small, handsome terminal building.
Donna was the first in line at the rental car desk. Kristen’s travel agent had reserved a car for her. “Here are the keys to your Jeep Cherokee, Ms. Zimmer. It is parked in spot eighteen in the lot just outside those doors. Enjoy your stay in Flagstaff.”
A jeep? Donna wondered just exactly what sort of driving she would be expected to do on this assignment. At the same time, she was excited. The jeep somehow seemed to go with the wild-west atmosphere of the place. By this time, luggage was pouring onto the carousel, and Donna was able to collect her suitcase quickly.
Outside, Donna could see how tall the ponderosa pines were, dwarfing the single-story terminal. She had known that Flagstaff was higher in the mountains than the rest of Arizona, almost 7000 feet according to the fun facts on the rental car map, but she hadn’t expected this towering forest. The trees were so tall and spreading that the forest floor was relatively open, revealing occasional lichen-covered boulders. She had always pictured Arizona as a desert, with saguaro cactus and howling coyotes. Flagstaff looked more like Donna’s images of Colorado or even Washington.
The rental car lot was just off the end of the terminal. A blue jeep awaited her. It was spacious inside, with all the latest gadgets. She pulled up the GPS and typed in the address that Kristen’s travel agent had given her. A woman’s voice with an Australian accent instructed her to make a right turn. “All right, Sheila,” Donna said aloud, “Here we go.”
Last Flight from Flagstaff: Chapter 2
After navigating Donna through a few highway mergers and exits, the GPS directed her past a golf course and into a neighborhood of large houses. The houses were on spacious lots, with tall pines creating buffers between each house. The landscaping around the houses seemed to be mostly natural forest, supplemented with plantings of native and decorative vegetation close to the houses. Soon Donna saw the street number she was looking for and turned into a circular drive in front of a stone and wood house. She parked the jeep behind a black Mercedes SUV,
She climbed out of the jeep and approached between the stacked-stone pillars of the large front porch. The house, although fairly new, had the look and feel of a classic Craftsman bungalow. Heavy wooden brackets curved from the tops of the pillars, supporting the porch roof. The oak front door was surrounded by stained glass windows with geometric patterns in shades of gold, yellow, and amber. Donna rang the doorbell.
A middle-aged woman dressed in a running suit and sneakers opened the door. “I’m Donna Zimmer, here to see Kristen Meredith,” Donna said.
“She’s in the living room,” the woman said. “This way.” The woman led Donna across the entry hall and through a wood-paneled dining room. Donna would have loved to stop and examine the built-in glass-fronted cabinets, but the woman didn’t slow down and Donna hurried after her.
They came into a large room dominated by a stacked-stone fireplace. Over the fireplace, a large portrait of a woman smiled down at them. Donna recognized her immediately. It was Cindy, Ross’s wife and Kristen’s mother. Donna stepped closer. The portrait must have been painted when Cindy was in her late twenties or early thirties. She was pretty rather than classically beautiful, but her sparkling eyes and engaging smile made her extraordinarily attractive. A halo of light brown curls softened her face.
Donna was so enchanted with the portrait she didn’t notice the other people in the room until she heard the woman who had let her in speak to them. “She’s here, Miss Kristen. I made up that extra room like you asked. Do you need anything else?”
“No thank you, Linda. That’s fine. Your check is in the kitchen. I’ll see you Thursday.” Kristen said.
Donna turned in the direction of Kristen’s voice, toward a darker corner of the room next to some bookcases. Kristen was standing on a stool while someone pinned up the hem of one of the most beautiful wedding dresses Donna had ever seen.
The design was deceptively simple. Flowing silk the color of French vanilla ice cream framed Kristen’s tanned shoulders and brought out the coppery undertones of her light brown curls, so like her mother’s. Kristen’s hair had grown out since Donna had last seen her and now brushed against her shoulders. The dress had a wide waistband embroidered with hundreds of crystal beads, releasing into a flowing skirt.
“Hi, Donna. Thank you for coming,” Kristen said.
“Hello, Kristen. What a beautiful dress. You look amazing.”
Kristen smiled. “Thank you. It was my mother’s. Mrs. Johnson here has altered it for me and did the beading…”
“Just hold still one more minute,” the kneeling woman interrupted, speaking through a mouthful of straight pins. She quickly placed the last few pins in the hem. “ There. I’ve got it. You can come down now.”
Kristen put one hand on the bookcase and stepped carefully off the stool.
“Mrs. Johnson, you have certainly done a wonderful job,” Donna said. It is a fabulous dress.”
Mrs. Johnson almost smiled before resuming her tight-lipped expression. “Just doing my job,” she said as she unzipped the dress. A long row of tiny covered buttons concealed the zipper. “I’ll have it back to you by Thursday.”
Kristen allowed Mrs. Johnson to lift the dress over her head and reached for a nearby white terry robe. “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson,” Kristen said, tying the sash of the robe around her narrow waist.
Mrs. Johnson zipped the dress into a garment bag and carried it out the back door of the room, passing a woman with a spiky helmet of blond hair and a clipboard in her hands as she entered. “All done?” I’ll check off the dress fittings then.” She made a checkmark on her paper but made a tsk-tsk sound. “Your Matron of Honor had to have another alteration. I hope she stays the same size until Saturday.”
“Well she is pregnant,” Kristen said. “I would think size changes are to be expected.”
The woman’s look of disapproval could have been for pregnant bridesmaids or for the brides who choose them, or possibly just for the world in general. She flipped to the next page before fixing a stern eye on Kristen. “Tomorrow at noon you and Matthew have an appointment for sampling the reception menu at Blue Sky Catering.”
“Yes, I have it on my calendar. Pauline, I’d like you to meet Donna Zimmer. She has come for the wedding. Donna, Pauline is my wedding planner.”
“I got that idea. Hello, Pauline it’s nice to meet you.” Donna extended her hand, but Pauline was too busy frowning and flipping pages to notice.
“Donna Zimmer. I don’t see that name on the guest list.”
“We didn’t know that Donna would be able to attend until the last minute,” Kristen said smoothly. “Don’t worry; I’ve already alerted the caterers that
there will be one more guest.”
Pauline puffed up, resembling nothing so much as a cornered horned toad. “You should have notified me first. It is my job to work with the caterers and suppliers.”
“Sorry, Pauline, but you know now. Thanks for coming by. Goodbye.” As Kristen talked, she was subtly maneuvering Pauline toward the dining room.
“Okay then, but if there are any more last-minute changes please inform me right away. We’re down to crunch time now. Goodbye Darla,” she called back as an afterthought before turning on her heel and striding out of the room.
Donna considered correcting her, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. She followed behind them, watching as Kristen accompanied Pauline to the front door. Pauline swept out, flipping pages and muttering to herself as Kristen closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes and taking a deep calming breath.
After a few seconds, Kristen opened her eyes and smiled at Donna. “Everyone says she is the best wedding planner in town and I have to admit, she is very organized. The wedding should go off perfectly if I don’t break down and murder her first.”
“Did you learn that technique from your Dad?”
Kristen laughed. “You mean the ease-them-out-the door technique? Dad was the master of it. I just couldn’t stand her for another minute today.”
“She is a force of nature, isn’t she?”
“Oh yes, but by the end of the week it will all be over. Thank you for coming, Donna. I do appreciate your dropping everything to come and help with my problems. Let’s get you settled into your room. Where are your bags?”
“You want me to stay here?” Donna was startled. “The itinerary showed a reservation at the Holiday Inn Express.”
“Yeah, I cancelled that. I want you to stay here with me. I want everyone to think you are just here to help with the wedding and I’ve got plenty of room so it just makes sense that you stay here.”
“All right, if that is what you want. So what exactly is the situation, Kristen? What is it you want me to investigate?”
“First, let me get dressed. Then we’ll get your luggage and have something to eat. After that, we can talk about all that stuff. Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”
While Kristen was gone, Donna took the opportunity to check out the entryway. To the right was a custom paneled door, presumably leading to a coat closet. Across from the front door, a beautifully framed mirror hung over an oak console table. Strips of lead separated the beveled glass panels of the mirror. A hand-thrown pottery bowl sat on the table, along with a few family photos in wooden frames.
Donna examined an adorable photo of Kristen as a toddler, picking daisies. Kristen was clutching a bunch of flowers in one chubby little hand. With the other hand, she was trying to hand a daisy to the photographer. Her delighted grin made Donna suspect that the photographer had been her mother.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Kristen had returned, now dressed in jeans and a slim top. “Let’s get your luggage. So did you really like the dress?” Kristen asked over her shoulder as she led the way outside toward Donna’s rented jeep.
Donna wondered why Kristen was avoiding the topic that must be on both their minds, but she went along. “Yes, it is truly lovely, and the color is perfect for you. Of course, your coloring is almost the same as your mother’s. That portrait over the fireplace could almost be you. I think I see some of your father in the shape of your eyes, though, and maybe in the chin.”
Kristen grinned. “My mother always said I inherited his temper too.”
“Really?” Donna was surprised. “I didn’t know Ross had a temper.”
“Most of the time he was the most patient man in the world, but every so often something would set him off. Then he was like a teakettle; he would come to a rolling boil, make lots of noise and then it was all over. None of this slow simmer stuff for us.”
They unloaded Donna’s suitcases and carried them upstairs to a bedroom with a bay window overlooking the drive. Kristen set the small roller bag on the window seat, disturbing a yellow cat that had been sleeping in the sun. The cat jumped down and vanished through the door. “That’s Barney. He takes a while to warm up to strangers but once he does, he is your friend for life. I hope you aren’t allergic to cats.”
“No, I like animals.”
“Good. Here is the front door key so you can come and go as you please. Let’s have dinner.”
Kristen led Donna downstairs into a large bright kitchen. The cabinets were medium-stained oak in a Craftsman style with square copper pulls. Deep yellow Fiestaware glowed through panes of beveled glass in the upper cabinets. A copper sink was set into the butcher-block top of the center island, illuminated by three stained-glass pendant fixtures in a geometric design.
Over the sink, an oversized window divided by mullions into a distinctive pattern looked out into the woods. Custom tiles formed the image of a ponderosa pine framed by long narrow brown tiles on the wall over the stovetop. “Your house is enchanting,” Donna remarked as Kristen opened the paneled refrigerator door and pulled out a large arugula salad with chicken.
“It was my mom’s project. They built this house about ten years ago. Mom spent months researching Arts and Craft style. She wanted a house that took the best from that style, but had modern comforts too like high ceilings and big windows.”
“Well she certainly succeeded. Everything about this home is warm and inviting.”
Kristen set the salad on the table and pulled out some bowls and forks. “I hope salad is okay with you. We’ll be eating plenty of big dinners this week, so I figured we might want to go light.”
“Salad is perfect,” Donna said.
Kristen continued to prattle on about the house and the wedding throughout the meal. She seemed excited and happy, but Donna noticed a brittleness to her chatter. After they had eaten and cleaned up, Kristen turned to Donna. “How about a tour of the garden? Mom left most of the lot natural, but she created this lovely little rock garden.” She began to lead them toward the kitchen door.
Donna reached for Kristen’s arm. “Kristen, stop. You brought me all the way here because you have a situation. If I’m going to be of any help, we need to talk about it. Okay?”
Kristen took a deep breath before turning to face Donna. “Yes, you’re right. I’m just not sure …well, okay come with me.” She led Donna back through the living room and into a cozy study.
Donna knew instantly that this must have been Ross’s room. The warm oak desk, the worn leather chairs, and the Indian run on the floor were all just extensions of Ross’s warm and rugged personality. Donna could almost imagine that she could still smell his cologne mingled with the smell of furniture polish and wood smoke from the fireplace. When she noticed the pearl gray cowboy hat hanging from a rack on the wall, Donna felt herself tear up.
Kristen had her back turned, pulling some papers from a wooden filing cabinet in the corner. By the time she turned back around, Donna had composed herself and settled into a chair beside the fireplace.
“Okay, here’s the story,” Kristen said, handing a set of papers to Donna. “Dad owned an apartment complex here in Flagstaff. He sold it to an LLC with owner financing. They have been making payments all along, but recently, according to the accountants, they have had some late or partial payments and just recently missed a payment.”
Donna looked at the purchase contract. The Limited Liability Company was called Arlyn and Russell. “What do Arlyn and Russell have to say about it?” she asked Kristen.
“I haven’t asked. That’s what I need you for,” Kristen said.
Donna frowned. Kristen was far too confident to be acting so helpless about this. “What do you mean you haven’t asked? Surely that is the first thing you would do. It’s possible they somehow overlooked the payment or it got lost in the mail or something.”
Kristen’s eyes widened, a hopeful look appearing on her face. “Do you really think that’s all it is?”
> “Probably not,” admitted Donna, looking over the summary from the accountants. “There is a pattern here, but it is a place to start. What’s really going on, Kristen?”
Kristen stared at the rug for a few seconds and then met Donna’s eyes. “My fiancé, Matt Arlyn, is the manager of Arlyn and Russell.”
“And you haven’t asked him about these delinquent payments?”
“I can’t. I don’t want him to think that I don’t trust him or worse that I think he is incompetent. Matt is so smart.” Kristen’s face lit up when she spoke about her fiancé. “He has a master’s degree in Native American Art History. He’s especially interested in Pre-Columbian art. His master’s thesis was on Mayan art with a special emphasis in ceramics. He loves all that stuff but it’s so hard to find a job in that field. When his uncle offered him this position he took it.”
“So his uncle would be the Russell in Arlyn and Russell?”
Kristen nodded. “That’s right. Blake Russell. He bought the apartments from my Dad and basically left Matt in charge. He’s been out of town working on some other business project for most of the past three years, and has only been back around Flagstaff for a few months.”
“So he is here now? Have you talked to him?”
“No, I don’t want him to think that Matt is messing up. Like I said, he has pretty much left Matt in charge without any interference and I don’t want to risk that.”
“So what exactly is it you want me to do?” Donna asked.
“I want you to check all the books for me and figure out what is going on without letting anyone know why you are doing it. Like I said, I’ve told everyone that you are an old friend of my parents who’s here to help with the wedding. I’ve mentioned that you’re an accountant, so you can ask questions and figure out what is wrong.”
Donna shook her head. “Kristen, that isn’t going to work. I can’t just say ‘aren’t they a lovely couple and by the way I want to audit your books.’ People aren’t going to buy it. You know that.”
Kristen twirled a finger through her hair, winding one of the curls around it. “Okay, do what you have to do but keep it as discreet as possible.”
“Kristen,” Donna said gently, “if you can’t trust your fiancé enough to talk this through, are you sure you should be getting married?”
Kristen’s head snapped up and her eyes blazed. “I am absolutely sure that marrying Matt is the right thing to do. That is not in question. Now I would appreciate it if you would just do your job and let me handle my own decisions. Do you want to work for me or don’t you?”
Donna backed down. “Okay, understood.”
“Good. Do you have that contract?”
“Yes, it’s a standard contract spelling out my usual hourly fee plus expenses.” Donna pulled the paper from her satchel and handed it to Kristen.
Kristen read over the paper quickly, picked up a pen from the holder on the desk and signed. She threw the paper and the pen onto the desk and stormed out of the room, leaving Donna alone.
Donna sat in the study, looking over the paperwork Kristen had given her. There wasn’t much there, just the basic facts. The LLC papers showed Blake Russell to be 80% owner with Matthew Arlyn owning the other 20%. The way the loan papers were written, if three payments were missed, Meredith Enterprises could start foreclosure proceedings on the apartments and force a sale in order to collect the money owed. Kristen really wasn’t doing Matthew any favors by letting the situation fester.
Of course, there was always the possibility that Matthew was out for what he could get. Donna looked around the room, taking in the handcrafted paneling on the walls and the imported custom tiles of the fireplace. Kristen was a wealthy young woman. She wouldn’t be the first to be taken in by a good-looking man.
Donna stood and walked around the desk to run her fingers over the soft leather of Ross’s desk chair. A framed photograph on the desk caught her eye. It was a copy of one she had first seen in Ross’s wallet a year ago. It showed Ross and Cindy together, looking at one another with love in their eyes. Donna squared her shoulders. Okay, if Ross and Cindy couldn’t be there to help their daughter, Donna would have to do it. First thing tomorrow, she was on the case.
Beth Carpenter loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her at [email protected]. If you would like to be notified whenever Beth publishes a new story, please email her with the words “new books” in the subject line. Your email will never be shared or used for any other purpose than to alert you that a new book is coming out.
At The Turning Point (Choices: Story One) Page 4