Bark to the Future (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 5)

by Susan C. Daffron

  She headed east out Tanque Verde Road to the Catalina Highway, which went up to the top of Mount Lemmon. The drive up the winding road reminded her a little of the road up to Alpine Grove. Because the top of Mount Lemmon rose more than 9,000 feet above the desert floor, driving up to the tiny town of Summerhaven was like visiting another realm, far removed from the heat and congestion of the city below. She’d never told Graham, but when she felt homesick for Alpine Grove, she sometimes took the drive up Mount Lemmon just so she could see a few pine trees. When she was an angry, unhappy teenager, she hadn’t appreciated the forests and the beauty of the area where her hometown was located. But after being away, she found she sometimes craved the sight of the lush green trees again.

  The road up to Summerhaven passed many campgrounds, hiking trails, and recreation areas with panoramic views overlooking the city. One of her favorite spots was Windy Point, which was about fourteen miles up the road. The parking area was surrounded by stacks of huge boulders, rock spires, and cliffs that offered views down to the desert below. She parked the Acura and walked to the Windy Point overlook. The spot was aptly named, and her hair swirled around her face. She rummaged in her purse for an elastic, yanked her hair back into a messy ponytail, and gazed out across the wide vista.

  Somehow, having the vast expanse of blue sky and the landscape spread before her seemed symbolic of the rest of her life. Up until now, Beth’s choices had been obvious and easy. She thought about Vanessa, who had started teaching aerobics in college. Never in her wildest imagination would Beth have considered that as a career choice, but Vanessa seemed happy. Not to mention in good shape.

  Beth pulled at the waistband of her slacks. Since she had a little extra time now, maybe she could sign up for an exercise class. Graham said that PhD candidates didn’t go to classes with a bunch of fat sweaty old women. Beth didn’t understand his rationale or what one had to do with the other. But it was time she started taking better care of herself. An exercise class was a good first step. That summer after senior year, she and Drew had gone hiking everywhere. Now she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to make it up the waterfall trail back in Alpine Grove. How pathetic.

  The reality was that, right now, Beth could do almost anything. Suddenly, not knowing what was next seemed liberating instead of terrifying. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Drew she wasn’t completely happy. Something was missing from her life. Pretending that everything was perfect was not the same as being truly contented and fulfilled. Carl had obviously made some drastic changes since high school. And Drew had traveled all over the world. Beth hadn’t gone anywhere, even around the Tucson area. All she’d done was work. Now she could go somewhere. Anywhere. She had enough money to do whatever she wanted, at least for a while.

  But what did she want?

  Maybe she could start small. That adult-education flyer she’d gotten in the mail described a stained-glass class that looked interesting. She loved stained glass and had a number of pretty pieces hanging in her windows. It might be fun to make one of her own.

  Beth walked down the steps from the overlook and back to the car. It was sort of sad that she had no hobbies beyond reading. Her mother was a furious gardener and, by her own admission, a terrible guitar player. But she loved both activities.

  Cleaning the house and checking e-mail didn’t count as hobbies. Now that Beth had some time for herself, maybe it was finally time for her to expand her horizons beyond basic maintenance tasks, working, and reading.

  The next morning, Beth mustered the energy to go to an exercise class at a gym that wasn’t too far from her house. She got a day pass to try it out and see if she could actually stand it. Forcing herself to exercise always sounded like a good idea until she actually did it. The only good thing was that people who were busy exercising were too out of breath to want to make small talk with her.

  The class said it included cardio and low-impact, whatever that meant. Mostly it seemed to involve a lot of loud music and running around. At first Beth felt like a moron, but then she sort of got into it. After she got home and collapsed on the sofa, she could tell from the dull ache in her muscles that she was going to be incredibly sore. How did Vanessa do this every day? Where were all those endorphins that you were supposed to get from exercise that made you feel good? Beth closed her eyes. Oh well. Maybe next time.

  Later when she opened her eyes, she realized she’d fallen asleep. She really was in terrible shape. And also in desperate need of a shower.

  After cleaning up, she decided to face the resume problem again. She knew the basic facts about what she had done at RTP, but making it sound enticing to anyone outside of that insular environment was proving to be a bit of a challenge. Besides, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do the same type of work for another company.

  Moving into management at RTP probably hadn’t been a good idea, and most of the huge companies with the budget for high-end technology like she’d worked on at RTP were defense contractors. Building missiles that could blow up small countries did not hold much appeal.

  With a sigh, she turned on the computer and pulled up her resume. Having read many resumes from eager RTP applicants over the years, she knew that this sad little piece of paper had about three seconds to get someone’s attention before it was dumped into a pile with 200 other rejects. The prospect was daunting.

  She clicked the icon to check her e-mail and laughed when she saw a missive to TheRealLizLogan from TheRealAJEmerson. She eagerly clicked to open it and smiled as she imagined Drew saying the words in his teasing over-the-top Southern-storyteller voice.

  Dear Liz,

  I was just happier than a tornado in a trailer park to read your e-mail. Here in my disheveled hovel, I had just run out of ways to put off writing what I should be writing. Desperate for diversion, I logged in and waded through the author e-mail folder, because as a responsible up-and-coming novelist I’m supposed to do that. Except I usually don’t because there are way too many e-mails for one sleep-deprived guy to read, much less answer. Except when I am desperate for diversion, which brings me around full circle.

  Because my publisher knows authors are a fickle lot, every week they forward all our e-mails to a fan-mail service, so if you happen to get another e-mail from my publisher that says something like “Thank you for being a fan, XXOO, A.J.” that was probably pasted in by a baby-faced intern named Aurora, who gets her knickers in a knot whenever they tell her that it’s her turn to answer author e-mail again. I’ve seen this first-hand. I swear on my great-granddaddy’s dear, departed soul that I am not making this up.

  ~ The Real A.J. (not Aurora)

  Beth wiped a tear of amusement from the corner of her eye. Clearly, Drew had not finished his book yet. Maybe he was still holed up in Alpine Grove at The Moose. At least she had an e-mail address for him now. Maybe they could be online friends. She smiled at the idea. Having Drew as a digital pen pal could be extremely entertaining.

  The next morning, Beth rolled over in bed and groaned. Clearly, her body was not going to put up with a daily exercise class. Maybe she’d try for every-other day to start. Today, perhaps she could limp over to the adult education center and sign up for the stained glass class, since it didn’t start until after her trip to Alpine Grove. Then after that, maybe she’d go for a short, easy hike somewhere. Everyone raved about the trails out at Saguaro National Park, particularly when the wildflowers started blooming. After living in Tucson for all these years, she’d never been to the park, even after they enlarged the area and changed Saguaro National Monument to a national park. She really needed to get out more. It was another glorious warm blue-sky day, and she couldn’t wait to hop in the Acura and open the sunroof.

  Beth returned from her excursion with many little spiky things attached to her socks. Her feet were sore, but she knew a lot more about saguaros and desert ecosystems. Before she went on another hike, she’d have to invest in some desert-proof hiking shoes.

  After turning on her com
puter, Beth attempted to really buckle down on the resume project. A few large city newspapers had been putting their employment classifieds online and she dug deep to find some listings from the Los Angeles Times. But once again, most of the tech jobs were at aerospace companies. More defense contractors. Beth sighed. Maybe she should try reaching out to some RTP colleagues. Job-search books always said getting a job was all in who you know.

  She opened her e-mail program and smiled at Drew’s e-mail. She leaned back in her chair and flipped her pencil around in her fingertips absently. How should she respond?

  Dear A.J.,

  Your reply was a refreshing surprise and a fascinating glimpse into how busy one can be doing things that do not need to be done in order to avoid doing something one actually is supposed to be doing.

  With that said, although I’m sure she is a lovely woman, I was delighted to hear from you and not Aurora.

  Given your current state of overwork, it might be unsettling for you to hear that at this very moment, I find myself in the curious situation of having nothing to do for the first time in my life, thus giving me more time to simply ruminate on the vagaries of human nature. As I sit here idly twirling my pencil, it occurs to me that procrastination often stems from laziness, perfectionism, or fear of failure.

  You obviously do not exhibit laziness or perfectionism, or your prior five novels would not exist. That leaves the third option, which I think is unjustified if my own reading experience is any indication. Just something to ponder as you toil onward toward completion.

  Your fan,

  ~ Liz

  P.S. Write something. Write anything. You can fix it later.

  Beth spent a little more time going through her e-mail contacts seeing if there were any likely candidates for “do you know if anyone is hiring?” e-mails. Groveling for employment was so dreary. Maybe tomorrow she’d pick up the university catalog for next semester. It was too bad she’d had to drop out this term. She missed going to classes and wandering around the U of A mall. Sometimes after class, she used to sit on the steps of Old Main eating her lunch, watching students wander by before she rushed back across town to work at RTP. It could have been a peaceful interlude, but at the time she’d been too busy worrying about the latest crisis at work to enjoy it.

  The next morning, Beth diligently went off to exercise class again and then rewarded herself for her virtuous pursuit of good health by indulging in a lethargic afternoon of reading. The third A.J. Emerson novel was just as good as the first two. She looked over at her computer. Maybe Drew had replied to her e-mail by now.

  She turned on the machine, quickly clicked the e-mail icon, and tapped her foot, waiting for everything to connect. Grinning when she saw the return address, she accessed the e-mail.

  Dear Liz,

  Your ruminations were a bright light in an otherwise dark day. It’s snowing here and the lights have been flickering. I was getting as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs because as you have surmised, I have a deadline. And it’s tough to use a computer without electricity.

  Here’s something they don’t tell you about the romantic world of publishing: editors have no sense of humor. None. I’m not making this up. In fact, I’m pretty sure my editor is actually made out of cast iron. She gave me a lecture today and I have to say that lady was just about as mad as a mule chewing on bumblebees. So you’ll forgive me if I keep this short. Right now, I have words to write. And with that, I’m off like a herd of turtles.

  ~ A.J.

  P.S. Dixie says “hi.” Or it might be, “I need to go out.” Gotta run.

  Beth shook her head. Drew was so predictable. He was going to wait until everyone was utterly desperate for him to produce something. And then when he did, it would be totally brilliant. He’d admitted that was how he managed to pull off straight A’s that last semester he’d attended Cedar County High School. Meanwhile, she’d studied like crazy to keep her 4.0 GPA, and she’d had to do hours upon hours of extra credit work to avoid doing an oral presentation for her AP English class. Thank goodness Mr. Albertson had finally agreed to the extra credit, or she would never have been valedictorian.

  The contents of her postscript to him was actually something Drew had said to her back then. After they had gone to the senior prom together, Beth found out to her horror that as the valedictorian she had to give a speech at graduation, in front of all her classmates and their parents. That stupid oral report in English she’d worked so hard to avoid paled in comparison. Giving a speech in front of everyone was a shy girl’s worst nightmare come true and she was terrified. Writing the speech had been agonizing, as well. Drew had helped, and pointed out that you can’t edit a blank page.

  They probably both still had the opus memorized after Beth had practiced it four-hundred-thousand times with him. On the big day, she pretended she was looking into his sympathetic blue eyes as she spoke. After she’d uttered the last word of the speech, she just stood there, staring incredulously out at the audience, stunned that she’d actually pulled it off without throwing up or fainting. At some point, the principal had finally come over and shoved her off the stage. Beth cringed at the memory.

  In many ways, giving that speech was the most difficult thing Beth had ever done. Since then, every time she had to do something that scared her, she thought about it. Speaking in front of people was her worst, most paralyzing fear, and yet she had overcome it enough to give the speech.

  Some things like that were seared into your consciousness and never left you. It was one of many unusual experiences she’d shared with Drew. Now that she knew he didn’t hate her, Beth wanted to talk to him again. That summer they were together, they’d had so many long conversations while they were sitting looking out at the lake. They spent hours laughing and philosophizing on life, family, education, dreams for the future, and memories of the past.

  They had pondered things they thought were unjust or unfair and marveled at things they thought were incredible. Talking to Drew had always been so easy and fun. He listened with complete absorption in that extraordinary way he had. And somehow he understood how her admittedly odd mind worked. It wasn’t like that with anyone else she’d ever met, before or since. Now that she’d seen Drew again, she finally let herself admit exactly how much she’d missed him.

  According to the weatherman on TV, it was snowing again in Alpine Grove. Based on the e-mail, Beth had a pretty good idea that Drew was still there. Although she was dreading seeing the snow on her return trip, she definitely wanted to see him again.

  Chapter 6

  Back Again

  After the short flight to LA, Beth got into another grossly expensive rental SUV and set out for Alpine Grove. Her mother and Jill were probably on their way down the hill, cruising toward their hotel somewhere in LA. Mom had actually closed the store early for the first time in years. She and Jill were going to stay overnight in the city before getting on the ship the following day. It would have been nice to see her mother before the trip, but the flights didn’t work out. Maybe Beth and her mother would pass each other on the road somewhere.

  As Beth got closer to Alpine Grove, the effects of the recent snowstorms became apparent. The plows had been busy, which was a relief, but the sky was gray and ominous. After all the time she’d spent running around the desert with the sunroof of the Acura open, the heavy gunmetal-hued clouds seemed even more dour than usual.

  She cranked up the heater and tried to will herself to view the snow in a more positive light. Snow was pretty. Clean and white. Pure and pristine. Not to be confused with cold and dirty. Or slippery and treacherous. Beth sighed. Even though the first day of spring was technically in March, it didn’t feel like it. Snow could put you in a festive holiday mood in December, but it was just exhausting and irritating by the time March rolled around.

  Beth pulled the car into her mother’s driveway, which she was happy to note had been plowed. The path to the house had been shoveled as well. The last th
ing her mother needed was another fall. At least there wouldn’t be any ice in Mexico.

  Grabbing her luggage from the passenger seat, Beth got out and went up the steps to the house. She unlocked the door and was greeted by the sound of Arlo barking. “It’s me, Arlo. Calm down.” The dog was looking anxious. Uh-oh. Beth knew that look.

  Dropping her suitcase on the floor, she grabbed a coat and the dog’s leash, wasting no time in getting the sheltie outside. She opened the baby gate at the kitchen doorway and Arlo rushed by her toward the door. “Okay, buddy, I know. We’re going.”

  They went for a walk and Beth was reminded again how poorly she dealt with wintry weather. It was cold. Her mood darkened to match the gray skies as she strolled slowly through the neighborhood with Arlo. It was going to be a very long two weeks here, particularly if the sun didn’t come out. Sometimes the sun went into hiding for extended periods in late winter and early spring. She looked up at the sky. Maybe the mega clouds would just leave for a change.

  After returning to the house, Beth found a long note from her mother listing things that needed to be done related to the house and the store. Ugh. Mrs. Oliphant’s gout had gotten bad enough that she was in the assisted-living place south of town for a little while, but she still wanted her books. Mom was like the bookmobile, carting books all over the Alpine Grove area.

  Maybe all the unemployed leisure time she’d been enjoying was making Beth lazy. At the moment, the list of tasks seemed hard and complicated. None of the items were a big deal, but she didn’t want to handle any of it right now. At least tomorrow was Sunday and the store was closed. Beth was going to embrace her day of rest. Looking down at Arlo, she said, “What do you think, buddy? I think it’s time to make a fire, curl up, and hunker down with another one of Drew’s books.” The sheltie wagged his tail, apparently agreeing with Beth that staying warm was a mighty fine plan.