The New Mexico Scoundrel

by R Scott Wallis

  Georgia and Massimo joined the group and the twins immediately stood up, offering their chairs. The hostess looked pale. Her face had a blank, distant look when she sat down, but she managed a weak smile when she started to speak. “This isn’t how I intended this evening to go. I’m so very sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing to us?” Carter asked. “We’re fine. The more important question is, how are you doing?”

  “I asked that the police allow people to leave and follow up with folks later, but because the darned Governor was here, this has become something of a major incident. I’m afraid it’s going to be a very long night for everyone. That’s why I apologize.”

  “Enough!” Massimo waved an angry, dismissive hand. “What is, is.”

  “No wiser words were ever spoken,” Brenda said dryly under her breath. She turned to Skyler and spoke softly so that the others couldn’t hear: “This trip was supposed to be relaxing.”

  “I’ll be okay. Surprisingly, I’m getting used to the madness that my life has become. What a year, huh?”

  “Next year will be quieter, I promise,” Brenda said. “We’ll make sure of it.”

  “Are we going to find a cave in the woods for us to live in, off the grid?” Skyler asked. “If we can’t find peace in sleepy places like Wabanaki and Santa Fe, we’re doomed, lady.”

  When Brenda chuckled, Georgia turned her attention to the women. “Thank you for having such a good attitude about all of this Miss Braxton and Miss Moore. I need to stop thinking about all of this for a moment.” She looked as if she were about to cry, but quickly got herself under control and fixed a small smile on her face. “I am so terribly sorry that I didn’t get a chance to formally welcome you to my home when you arrived. I guess I was caught up with my hostess duties. Despite the unfortunate explosion in the front hall, I am very happy that you could come. I’m a big fan, Brenda. Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Can I call you Brenda?”

  “Well of course you can. That’s my name, isn’t it? And thank you,” Brenda said sweetly. “We were thrilled to get the invitation. I’ve never seen you perform, Georgia, sadly, but I aim to fix that tout de suite.”

  “That will have to wait, Brenda,” Georgia said. “I’m not performing again until next summer, here in Santa Fe. I’ve been working non-stop since college. I’m giving these tired old vocal cords a much-needed vacation.”

  Massimo scowled. “Stupido! You are in the prime of your career. They will forget you.”

  Georgia playfully slapped the man’s leg. “Don’t listen to him. He just wants his cut.”

  “No one will forget the great soprano,” Carter said.

  “Thank you, Sullivan, darling.”

  “I’m Carter.”

  “If you say so.” Forgetting for a moment the gravity of the situation, she roared with laughter, then stopped herself short. “I’m sorry for that. It must get terribly old having people make fun of the twin thing all the time. I am so very sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing, Georgia,” Carter said. “That’s what’s getting old.”

  Georgia shrugged her shoulders. “I give up.”

  “Your house is beautiful,” Skyler interjected, hoping to change the subject. “This tree is magnificent. I don’t think I thought about it before deciding to come to New Mexico for Christmas, but I am going to miss not having my tree up and decorations out this year.”

  “Thank you, Skyler, darling,” Georgia said. “As I told the boys, these aren’t even my ornaments. Well, they’re mine now, but every single one is brand new, bought in the last 24-hours. My vintage stuff is back in New York. This is pretty, yes, but I prefer the old stuff, I believe.”

  “I kept my mother’s and grandmother’s ornaments,” Skyler said. “I know what you mean.”

  A tired looking man in a worn, ill-fitting black suit approached and identified himself as an F.B.I. agent. He asked to speak with the opera singer in the other room and she and her manager darted away leaving the foursome alone again.

  “Is she involved with the Italian?” Brenda asked the twins. “Those two seem intimate. Very close.”

  “Massimo is her longtime agent and manager and I believe they dated briefly when she was between husbands,” Sullivan said. “She’s been widowed twice. Both were quite tragic and unexpected.”

  Brenda looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. “They are doing it.” It wasn’t a question. “And I don’t like the look of that guy.”

  “Brenda, honestly,” Skyler said. “Who cares?”

  “The F.B.I. might care,” Brenda said.

  Skyler took a sip of her drink. “You’ve lost your mind.”

  Brenda’s face lit up and she turned toward the twins. “I have a name for the restaurant! It just popped into my head and I love it instantly. If it can’t be Brenda’s Kitchen, then it should be, Cornerstone.”

  Carter and Sullivan squinted their eyes. Skyler nodded, “I like it. But why on Earth are you thinking about that right now?”

  “What else do we have to do? Cornerstone. It’s good, right?” Brenda asked. “It’s classic, solid; to me it says, ‘new beginning.’ What do you think, boys?”

  “I love it,” Carter said after a beat.

  Sullivan’s brow was wrinkled and he stared at the floor. After a moment he said, “It makes me think of the corners, bricks, cement. I’m not sure that’s the imagery we want in peoples’ heads when they’re are deciding where to eat dinner. It sounds like a construction company.”

  “Did you come up with that just now? While we were talking about F.B.I. agents?” Skyler asked.

  Brenda shifted in her seat. “It’s a word that’s used a lot in the The X-Files books I read. There’s a lot of cornerstones in the X-Files mythology. The Catholic Church. The Syndicate. The Elders. Deep State.”

  No one said anything for a moment, then Skyler turned to the twins. “You should know that Brenda is obsessed. She’s got every line, from every episode and all The X-Files movies, memorized and she reads the novelizations and the non-fiction books about the series. It’s The X-Files, 24-seven.”

  “I don’t know every line from every episode,” Brenda said, “but it is my all-time favorite show. When you meet my dear dogs, you’ll know how much I love that world.”

  “We’ll go with Cornerstone,” Carter said. “I like it, it’s different, and it’s certainly better than calling it, Little Green Men. You wouldn’t suggest that, would you, Brenda?”

  The chef shook her head. “No. No. Of course not. Aliens aren’t green. More of a whitish-grey.” She turned to Sullivan and grabbed the side of his arm. “Cornerstone by Brenda Braxton. I think my name should be in the official title. People have heard of me.”

  “I agree. It’s a done deal. Now if we can ever get out of here, we might get a few hours of sleep before the fiesta tomorrow,” Sullivan said. He consulted his watch. “I’m sorry, it’s already today.”

  Skyler was curious, so she slipped off the loveseat, walked to the front window, peered outside, then returned quickly. “Not a single news vehicle. Maybe about a dozen police cars though.”

  “This is Santa Fe,” Georgia said. “The closest news van is probably down in Albuquerque. And I doubt local reporters monitor the police scanners like they do back East. Maybe this won’t make the news at all.”

  “It’ll make the news,” Carter said to Georgia. “The governor, you, Brenda, us. All in one bombed out Christmas party? It’ll make the news.”

  Everyone bristled but didn’t necessarily disagree.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Operating on just a few hours’ sleep, the Lowery twins and a team of locally hired temp workers were at the fiesta site by nine o’clock that morning, busily setting up the Franklin-Lowery booth. Brenda arrived moments later with two Four Seasons restaurant employees—a middle-aged male bartender who was the spitting image of actor George Clooney, she thought, and a cute little wisp of a twenty-something prep-cook. She’d convinced them both to moonlight for he
r since she was in Santa Fe without her usual team. They got to work assembling hundreds of mini lobster rolls and placed dozens of Brenda’s signature cava on ice. She believed that the crisp sparkling white wine, together with her small taste of Maine seafood, would be a welcomed surprise, given the sea of New Mexican hatch chili-themed foods surrounding their booth.

  Brenda wasn’t a food snob, in any sense. She had no problem enjoying a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese alongside a nice steak, but she just wasn’t a fan of food clichés. While she made allowances since it was a chili-themed town, it was overkill; every booth appeared to be just a slight variation on the same tired thing. She was proud that the Franklin-Lowery booth would stand out with its splash of Down East seafood. It was almost like wearing a red dress to a black and white ball—it takes balls to pull it off. And she had ‘em and wasn’t afraid to whip them out when necessary. Balls, and “…taking risks outside of that tire old, damned proverbial box,” she always said.

  While the December morning was certainly chilly, the interior of the football field-sized tent was toasty. Brenda shucked her faux fur coat—she’d seen a few women give her that look, but she didn’t care; she knew it wasn’t real—and donned an apron.

  “We appreciate you doing this,” Carter said. “I’m guessing you don’t usually get yourself involved at a local level like this.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said as she popped a piece of lobster claw into her mouth. “I’m successful because I do stuff like this. From time to time you need to let the little people see you up close.”

  Carter looked concerned.

  After a moment, her face brightened. “I’m kidding, honey. Kidding.”

  “Oh.” He set out a pile of cocktail napkins embossed with the Franklin-Lowery hotel logo.

  “Relax, brother,” Sullivan said. “He can’t take a joke, Brenda.”

  “I’m only successful if you guys are successful,” the chef said. “And I have very high hopes for the Santa Fe hotel and the new restaurant. Cornerstone. Heck, if it does well, maybe you’ll keep me on for the forthcoming properties?”

  “Yeah. That’s the idea,” Sullivan said. “We do have a request though.”

  Carter put a hand on his brother’s back. “You’re going to ask her now? They’re about to open the gates and the let the little people in.”

  “Ask me what?” Brenda’s eyes widened with intrigue.

  Sullivan pulled away from his brother. “We were wondering if you might convince Carissa Lamb to attend the grand opening of the hotel. That would guarantee that we make the national news, gossip sites, and social medias, really putting the hotel on peoples’ radar. We’d get tons of press having her here. I have a contact at Travel & Leisure. I know they’d send someone to cover it.”

  “Well, that’s an easy one, boys,” Brenda said quickly. “Do not ever be timid about asking me questions like that. I’m all about creative marketing and using the friends and connections that I have to increase the bottom line.” She gave a low laugh. “And Carissa is so game for stuff like that. Honestly. And if you time it right, I’m sure we can make it happen. She’s an absolute doll and very, very down to Earth. But she works constantly. We have to plan carefully.”

  “Having one of the world’s most famous pop singers, the world’s most in-demand opera diva, and one of the country’s most famous celebrity chefs…well, it’s just a trifecta of marketing perfection,” Sullivan said proudly.

  Brenda closed her eyes and smiled. “Thrilled to help. And since I make money, too, it works for me. Let’s just work on keeping that diva alive, for goodness sake. I’m still shaking from last night. What the hell happened?!”

  Carter sighed. “Someone bombed the damned party, is what happened. I still can’t believe it.”

  “Where is Georgia now?” Brenda asked. “You didn’t leave her alone, did you?”

  “No, of course not,” Sullivan said. “We offered to have her come stay at the house we’re renting, but she and Massimo decamped to his suite at the La Fonda hotel down on the Plaza. She didn’t want to stay in that house.”

  “Well, I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t have stayed a minute longer than I had to,” Brenda said. “And I knew there was something going on between her and that agent of hers.”

  Their conversation was cut short when scores of Santa Feans started approaching the booth. The twins talked up the hotel to all who would listen and Brenda’s food and sparkling wine were an instant hit. The celebrity chef took countless photos with fans and signed autographs, too. By one o’clock, the food was gone and only a few bottles of wine were left. And the boys had given away nearly all of their promotional materials. Only a handful of guests were still milling about when Skyler approached the booth.

  “You pretty much missed the whole thing,” Brenda said. She was exhausted and sat down on an ice chest. “I’m out of lobster. Where have you been?”

  “Actually, I’ve been here for about an hour. I ate and drank my way through the whole place and it was simply glorious. What an amazing event. It was pure heaven in bite sized pieces. My favorite. I’m sorry, you guys. I was being very selfish. But I had a ball.”

  “I hear the Wine and Chili Fiesta in September is four times as big as this,” Carter said. “We’ll have to make sure we’re available for that, too.”

  “I’m so stuffed, I can’t imagine having more options,” Skyler said as she eyed a bottle in the ice chest. “But I’ll have some of that cava, please. I hear it’s very drinkable.”

  “Damn right,” Brenda said as she got to her feet.

  Sullivan poured her a glass.

  “Brenda sends me a case several times a year,” Skyler said. “I drink more of this than water, thank you very much.”

  Carter pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Georgia. Hello?” He listened intently for a few moments. “Okay. I’ll be there. Hang tight.” He turned to his brother. “Massimo just left to return to Italy for the holidays and she’s a mess. I’m going to go see her at the hotel.”

  “I thought no one from the party was supposed to leave town,” Skyler said.

  “Massimo does what he wants,” Carter explained. “He told Georgia that he was an Italian citizen and that they couldn’t make him stay and miss spending Christmas with his family.”

  “He might be right,” Brenda said. “But I still don’t like that guy.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  After a much-needed afternoon nap back at the hotel, Skyler dialed Leonard’s cell. It rang several times and then went to voicemail. At least she got to hear his sexy voice. “Hi, it’s me,” she said after the beep. “Having an adventure in Santa Fe, to say the least. It’s cold here, but absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. Call me when you have a free moment. Brenda says, hello. I love you.” She hung up and agonized over having said the ‘love’ word. Leonard hadn’t used it yet either and she wasn’t convinced he was prepared to say it out loud so soon. She brushed it off; the deed was done. She couldn’t undo it.

  She took a quick shower and dressed in jeans, hiking boots, a ribbed long-sleeve thermal top, and a medium weight jacket that she’d picked up at a local outdoor provisioning store on her way back from the fiesta. People weren’t kidding about the weather; at night, one had to bundle up, and during the day, the sun beat the heat right into you despite the frigid wind chill.

  After retrieving Mulder and Scully from Brenda’s empty room, Skyler took off for the front of the resort with a dog leash in each hand. They soon arrived at the beginning of the Camino Encantado Trail that circumnavigated the resort property. It was a relatively short trail with manageable hills and the dogs seemed to love sniffing and exploring their new surroundings. Skyler marveled at the views of the mountains and valleys around the resort when she wasn’t watching her footing. She nearly slipped off a large rock at the top of a crest but used the weight of the dogs to steady herself, nearly choking the poor beasts. She took a few cell phone photos of cacti,
sagebrush, and the occasional lizard, which predictably sent the dogs into a frenzy of curiosity.

  Skyler reveled in the quietness. It was unsettling to her how silent it was; but a welcome break from the constant frenzy of city life. She decided that she could get used to northern New Mexico and would even consider living in the beautiful place…if it just had more shopping options. A Nordstrom addict in the Land of Enchantment might be forced to make several trips to larger metropolitan cities for clothes, or buy online, which Skyler was decidedly not a fan of. She had to touch fabrics and try tons of stuff on before she settled on outfits.

  She rounded the last bend of the trail and came face to face with an elderly man holding an ornate carved walking stick. His deeply weathered face came to life when he noticed her.

  “Good afternoon, young lady,” he said warmly.

  “Good afternoon.” She smiled back but she hoped this wouldn’t turn into a long conversation. She tended to attract the attention of old geezers when she was out and about and it didn’t always end well.

  “How did you enjoy the trail?”

  “It was perfect for me,” Skyler said, pulling back on the leashes to keep the excited dogs from knocking over the man. “About as much as this city girl can manage in a day.”

  “Which city?”

  “I live in Washington, D.C.”

  “Never been a fan of the capital city,” he said, losing his smile. “I haven’t been back since before John Kennedy was shot. That makes me quite old.”

  “You don’t look that old, sir.”

  “I’m a nonagenarian! Turned 94 this past September.”

  “You don’t look a day over 80,” she said, playing along.

  “You’re too kind,” he laughed. He looked down at the ground and then slammed his walking stick forcefully onto something. “Got him! I don’t like those big black bugs.”

  He indeed smashed to death a large cockroach-looking insect into smithereens. “Thanks for saving me,” Skyler said.