by R. S. Kovach
“Thanks,” Ali muttered as the hostess left, noticing Pete’s knee bobbing up and down under the table. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” He wiped his forehead, straining his neck to look across the room. “Just really thirsty. Where’s that waiter?”
Pete wasn’t kidding. After downing his first glass of Cabernet, he ordered one more and promptly excused himself. When their appetizers had arrived and he hadn’t yet returned from the men’s room, Ali began to worry. That was when she noticed the two casino chips were also missing. Her heart sank at the possibilities, and Ali hoped she was wrong as she ventured into the saloon. But the young man in black at the nearest table was unmistakable.
“Hit me,” Pete instructed the bow-tied man standing on the other side of the green felted surface.
Ali stepped to his side. “Our food’s here.” She placed a hand on Pete’s shoulder.
“I’m good.” He watched as the dealer flipped over a playing card and placed the five of hearts on top of two existing cards. A universal groan escaped from the spectators, but Pete remained unmoved. “You go ahead, and I’ll catch up later.” He removed five tokens from the top of one stack and as soon as the dealer cleared the table, he set up the next bet.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ali whispered into his ear, but Pete’s focus was completely on the game.
Standing out of earshot, Ali pulled out her phone and called Dr. Sacher on her after-hours number. Though she wouldn’t divulge confidential doctor-patient information, the therapist’s insistence on getting Pete out of the casino as soon as possible meant Ali’s suspicions had been correct. Gambling must have been the reason for the young man’s stay at Pebble Creek, and now, thanks to her, he’d most certainly had a relapse.
Ali called Liz next and informed her of the situation. Now she only had to wait for the woman to arrive and help get her friend back to the lodge. Finishing dinner was out of the question since her appetite was gone, but she managed to put years of practice with successful boardroom bluffs to good use. Threatened with a lawsuit for enabling a known addict, the casino boss eventually declined Pete’s credit card.
After his resources were cut off, Pete was less reluctant to leave, and with Liz at the wheel, they rode back to the lodge in silence. Only after they had all said good night and Ali was about to return to her room did Liz address Ali. “You’ve had a hell of a first week with us.”
Too tired for anything more, she scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“I hope you’re not thinking of bailing just yet.” Liz crossed her arms.
Ali frowned. “It’s crossed my mind.”
“Listen. I usually make more of an effort to get to know my guests better, but it’s been one thing after another lately.” Liz sighed and rubbed her eyes with one hand. “If you’re interested, though, I was planning on taking my kids to the state fair this weekend and would love to have you join us.”
“You have kids?” Ali couldn’t keep the surprised note out of her voice. Somehow, the tough-as-nails entrepreneur who ran Pebble Creek like clockwork didn’t strike her as the maternal type.
“Two under ten.” Liz smiled. “They’re with their grandparents this week, but we’ve made the fair a family tradition and they’re counting on going. What do you say?”
◆ ◆ ◆
Ali’s second therapy session with Dr. Sacher was scheduled for Friday morning. Exactly one week had passed since her arrival at the lodge, but so far her streak of failures continued. While she didn’t wish to repeat Monday’s incident in the corral, Ali also didn’t feel like spending the next hour being psychoanalyzed. After knocking on the therapist’s office door and hearing the invitation to enter, she momentarily forgot her worries.
She had expected a typical office: a wooden desk, lots of bookshelves, comfy chairs, and maybe even a couch. Instead, Ali found herself in something straight out of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The walls were all white, as were the stems of the four crystal-trimmed chandeliers hanging from various points on the ceiling. Black and white tiles in a checkerboard pattern decorated the floor, but that was where the subtlety in design ended.
An orange, L-shaped sofa stood in one corner, flanked by two striped high-back chairs. Several floral-patterned oversized pillows in coordinating reds and yellows were strewn on the floor, while a half dozen circular clocks had been placed at various heights on three walls. Each showed a different time, and Ali automatically checked her wristwatch. That was different as well.
She smiled. It seemed Dr. Jane Sacher was not the stodgy professional that first impressions made her out to be.
“Good morning, Ms. Barros.” The therapist greeted her from next to a small but exquisitely set table. The round top was covered with a silver tablecloth and topped by a tiered display of mini cupcakes and iced cookies. Dr. Sacher was holding a blue and white porcelain pot. “Tea?”
Ali had learned to always accept such an offer, even if she didn’t really want it. The gesture not only put the host at ease but also made the guest appear more amenable. “Yes, please.”
Dr. Sacher poured two servings before handing a cup and matching saucer to Ali. “Have a seat anywhere you find comfortable.”
Ali sat in one of the armchairs and the therapist took a seat in the other.
“We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot last time.” Dr. Sacher peered over the rim of her cup before taking a small sip of the steaming beverage.
Ali cradled the saucer in her palm. “I’m not very good at introspection, I’m afraid.”
The therapist smiled. “Then let me ask you a quick question and we’ll move on.” She paused before turning more serious. “Tell me. Do you consider yourself a perfectionist?”
She hated that word, and Ali inadvertently rolled her eyes. “I was always taught to do my best, but no, I wouldn’t call myself a perfectionist.”
Dr. Sacher pursed her lips and looked her up and down. “Very good. Now, how about we back up and talk about your environment.”
“My environment?” The china rattled in her hand as Ali shifted in her seat.
“That’s right. Your influences and triggers. The things around you. More specifically, your interpersonal relationships,” Dr. Sacher explained.
Ali hooked her index and middle fingers into the cup’s handle and lifted the object to her lips. She took two sips of the bitter tea before answering. “All right.”
“Let’s talk about your parents first.” Dr. Sacher set her cup down on a side table. “Were they equally part of your childhood and are they both still alive?”
“Yes on both counts.” In spite of preferring her tea with honey and lemon, Ali drank again.
“And how would you describe your relationship with them?”
Ali sighed. Did she really have to suffer through fifty-five more minutes of this clichéd Psychiatry 101 nonsense? Leaning forward, she attempted to put her tea down but fumbled and nearly dropped the whole thing on the checkered floor. “Average, I suppose,” she answered once the porcelain was safely on the table. “My mother has always had extremely high expectations of me, but she means well. My father, on the other hand, uses a much more subtle method of silent guilt to make his point.”
“Interesting.” The therapist crossed her legs and momentarily stared into space, as if trying to commit the note to memory. “We’ll definitely revisit that, but for now let’s stay on topic. How about friends?”
Ali shrugged. “I don’t have much time for socializing, but when I do, it’s mainly with a core group I’ve known since college and a few back from high school.”
“I’m assuming all of these friends are at similar places in their lives, personally and professionally, to you?”
She pulled herself straight. “I don’t think it would be fair to generalize. One is a preschool teacher, another acts off-Broa
dway, and even several of those who are in jobs comparable to mine are either married or engaged. So, no. I’d say we’re all in quite different situations.”
“And what do you think of that?”
“Think of what?”
The therapist steepled her fingers. “Well, for starters, do you find yourself envious of any of them? For their choice of career or perhaps for already settling down with a partner?”
Ali laughed and relaxed her posture. “Not at all.”
“You didn’t hesitate.” Dr. Sacher gave an approving nod. “Does that mean you’ve thought about this already?”
“I had a lunch date with a friend from college a few weeks before coming here.” Ali recalled the brief visit with Shelby. “She works in publishing, and while she makes peanuts, that girl absolutely loves what she’s doing.”
“Do you find that unusual?” the therapist interrupted. “To enjoy an endeavor without the financial reward, I mean.”
Ali frowned. “No, of course not. I consider myself very lucky to have both, but I certainly don’t judge others for doing something purely out of passion or for money.” She paused, considering whether to even mention why she’d actually thought of Shelby. When Ali looked up, Dr. Sacher was waiting for her to continue.
“Shelby may not have a fancy title or a high salary, but she married her college sweetheart, who would do anything for her.” She smiled, remembering how Ryan Weeks had attended a series of Zen Buddhist classes because Shelby considered taking up the religion and how he gave up meat for a whole year when she became a vegetarian.
“Ah.” Dr. Sacher drew out the all-knowing syllable. “Then it’s that relationship you covet?”
Ali shook her head. “That’s the thing. Shelby loves her job and has an amazing husband, yet she spent most of our lunch hour talking about her boss, Nick.” She paused and cleared her throat. “I don’t think she’d ever act on it, but the fact that she has everything she ever wanted and yet she’s still fantasizing about someone else . . . Well, no. That isn’t something I want.”
“You want things in your life to be foolproof,” the therapist suggested. “You want your actions and decisions to be impervious to error or mistakes?”
“Yes, but don’t we all?”
She raised her brow. “Do you know what a synonym of foolproof is, Ms. Barros?”
Ali scoffed. “Infallible? Reliable?”
Dr. Sacher nodded. “And not least of all, perfect.”
She had agreed on a whim, but by the time fair day arrived, Ali was having second thoughts.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” she posited from the comfort of a padded chair in the lodge’s expansive living area.
“Bollocks.” Wylda swung her legs over the adjacent sofa’s armrest, dangling her feet like a child. “It’ll do ya some good to get away from this lot.”
Ali sighed and looked out the wall of glass behind her friend. “I suppose.” While he was on both their minds, she didn’t explicitly want to talk about Pete. After the fiasco in Denver, his stay had been extended by at least two weeks, so there’d be plenty more opportunities to make amends. Especially considering he’d been avoiding everyone since.
“But isn’t it weird? To go off-site with the person who runs the rehab place that’s supposed to be making you better? You’d think she’d want some time with her family instead of dragging work along.” She looked at the young woman for reassurance; Wylda, however, bolted upright and, with a shocked expression, attempted to silently signal someone across the room.
Peeking over her shoulder, Ali saw the midforties broker in the worn Cubs cap enter the living area and grin at Wylda. She gasped in a burst of realization as she looked back at her friend. “You’re the soccer mom!” she exclaimed, putting two and two together. She knew the woman Dave had been talking to on the trail ride had looked familiar. “You . . . you and Dave?” Ali pointed behind her as Wylda frantically gestured for the man to leave.
Leaning closer, her friend whispered. “I’m so sorry. I know you were kind of into him, but—”
“Oh, god no,” Ali interrupted, suppressing a giggle that was surely inappropriate considering Wylda’s earnestness. “It’s totally fine. But are you two together now?”
Wylda blushed. “Yeah. Kind of. He was really glum when you disappeared that night, and we just started talking, ya know? He’s not a bad fella, actually.”
“I am so happy for you.” Ali gave her a reassuring hug before sitting back down. “Wow. How are you going to manage when it’s time to go home?”
Fluffing up her platinum bob, Wylda looked puzzled. “I’m not sure if it’ll get that serious, but we live less than two hours away from each other.”
Now it was Ali’s turn to frown. “What? I thought you were from England.”
The young woman laughed. “Oh? The accent? No, it’s not real. I’m actually from Kenosha.”
Ali looked on, dumbfounded, as her friend slipped out of her distinct pronunciation. “Why the pretense?” she finally managed to ask.
“Life’s too short to take it seriously. And who wants to flaunt they’re from Wisconsin? The English are so exotic, ya know?” She picked up a nearby book and leaned back in the seat. “Now, go to your little country fair, and eat some fried butter or whatever ridiculousness they have at this thing.”
Checking her watch, Ali jumped to her feet. She was supposed to meet Liz out front three minutes earlier. After waving good-bye to Wylda and running through the reception area, she bounded out the door and came to a stop on the front porch. Liz—who’d been on a call and pacing back and forth—put away her phone and frowned. “I really hate to do this, but I’m afraid I need to stay behind.”
Her wishes had been answered about forgoing the adventure, and Ali didn’t even have to go back on her word. “Oh, no. That’s too bad.” She feigned disappointment. “I guess your kids are bummed.”
The woman’s eyes lit up as she swept her long brown tresses away from her face. “Not at all. They’re actually quite excited about spending the afternoon with their uncle.” She nodded toward the circular drive and the black pickup truck parked at the end. “I hope you don’t mind my brother going in my place.”
As if on cue, Hank rounded the hood and opened the passenger door. Two small heads bobbed anxiously in the backseat; it looked like they were waiting for her.
“Your brother?” Ali repeated, letting the words sink in. The revelation was completely out of left field, yet it—and the duo’s previous affection toward each other—now made complete sense. But it also gave her another reason why she needed to get out of the obligation. “Um, is he okay with that?”
Hooking an arm into hers, Liz led Ali down the steps. “Are you kidding? He should be thankful he has backup.” She laughed. “I love those munchkins to death, but they can be a handful.”
“Awesome,” Ali mumbled, then skidded to a stop. More awkwardness with Hank, and with the added bonus of kids, was all she needed. “Shoot. I forgot to sign out.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” Liz pushed her forward. “Have fun!”
Ali lowered her gaze as she walked down the driveway and climbed into the vehicle. She could feel Hank watching her the entire way, and she balled her fists to ease her nerves. It didn’t help that he remained silent even as she passed by, and she wondered if he really was as amenable to her coming along as his sister had implied. Even so, he remained as chivalrous as before, waiting for her to get settled before closing her door.
“Who are you?” a child asked Ali from the backseat.
She turned to get a better look at Liz’s kids. The boy—glancing at her momentarily before resuming disinterestedly staring out the window—was the spitting image of his mother: lanky with large brown eyes and thick, dark hair that almost grazed his shoulders. He looked a few years older than his sister, who had asked the question. With
golden curls framing her round face, she was small enough to still need a booster seat.
“My name is Alejandra, but you can call me Ali. What’s your name?”
“Sarah.” The girl inquisitively looked up through her long lashes, hugging a tablet to her chest.
“What a beautiful name.” Ali drew forth everything in her “how to talk to kids” repertoire, starting with a compliment. It was always a safe bet, along with asking about age. “How old are you, Sarah?”
“Seven?” She sounded a bit unsure.
“Wow. You’re quite big.” Ali nodded in emphasis. Recalling the ages of her cousins’ children, she took a guess. “Are you in first grade, then?”
The little girl pouted. “No. Second.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sarah.” Ali smiled and turned toward the boy, who shifted in his seat. Before she could address him, Hank slipped into the driver’s seat and started the truck. As he pulled away from the lodge, they all waved to Liz, who was standing at the top of the porch.
“You owe me a shirt,” he said, unknowingly interrupting the introductions.
Facing forward again, Ali was baffled by his choice of greeting and she had to take a moment to contemplate her response. However, Hank’s icy expression quickly softened, and although she only had a profile view, when the corner of his mouth turned up and creases formed by his eye, she giggled in relief.
“My wardrobe has been seriously lacking in flannel, but if you insist—”
“Let go, Colin!” Sarah shrieked. With the tablet raised above her head, she attempted to keep it out of her brother’s reach.
“No.” He struggled in vain against his seat belt, waving his arms toward the girl. “I want to watch YouTube.”
“But I want to play games.” To emphasize this, Sarah turned away from his reaching hands, unlocked the screen, and tapped open an icon.