“I’m not sure how tall they are, but I guess there’s nothing like them out here. They have what they call elevators you can ride from one floor to the next, so you don’t have to use the stairs.”
“And a public library? Where you can borrow whatever books you want?” Her marvelous eyes lit up.
Phil felt uncomfortable. “I can’t say about that. I’m not much for reading.” Relief followed as Felicia went on to talk about her teaching, and he encouraged her with his questions. Soon they were summoned to supper.
The table was a long one, obviously intended for a large family. Maria sat at the head, Felicia on her left, Phil on her right. Estrella brought in the first dish and said something in Spanish to Maria, which Phil—with his smattering of the language—could detect involved him. El hombre was one phrase he caught. The earlier appraisal by the doorkeeper was now being amplified. Caught off-guard by Maria’s saying of a brief grace, Phil managed to bow his head before it was over. She smiled and passed the first plate.
Was it because of the endless beans, jerky and hardtack on the trail, or was Estrella the superb cook she seemed to be? The meal was delicious. Unfamiliar vegetables garnished the rice dish. The main course was a roast that must have been cooking on slow heat for hours. Flat bread—crisp and nut flavored—accompanied by a sharp, soft cheese and fresh fruit followed.
Surprisingly, for a household where the owner was also the proprietor of Dexter Spring’s most famous drinking establishment, no wine was served. Phil didn’t miss it. It was all he could do, however, to keep from wolfing down the meal in the custom of the trail camp. The flow of conversation helped to slow down consumption. Felicia and Maria quite clearly had an easy relationship. They joked and laughed, drawing Phil into the talk and convincing him more and more that he would never be able to refuse the official offer when it was forthcoming. Could he make part of the bargain a guaranteed seat at this table every evening?
Before they realized it, it was dark outside. Maria was the first to comment. “Good company has kept me from getting down to business. I’d planned on riding the spread with you to show you what you’ll have to face, but it will take daylight for that. Can you come back tomorrow? Say around three? It should be clouding over by then and that will give us a few cool hours for you to get the lay of the land.”
Phil was quick to agree. As they rose, Maria said, “Why don’t you and Felicia go out on the porch and enjoy the evening. It’s too cold for mosquitoes, so it should be pleasant out there. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve gotten some paperwork out of the way. Supplies for the tavern, you know.”
The evening sky was enjoyable, though Phil had seen many like it in his day. Perhaps it was more so now, though, because of the company on the swing. Her perfume was slight, but still heady. “A flower garden,” Phil thought. Felicia spoke about her work, her ambitions. It was a melodious voice, one Phil had no difficulty listening to. The minutes slid by quickly. The paperwork must have taken longer than expected, but Maria eventually came out, pulled up a stool opposite the swing and leaned back against the railing.
Fearing he might be overstaying his visit, Phil finally and reluctantly rose and said his goodbyes, with the assurance that he would be back at three the following afternoon, “for sure.”
Sleep came slowly for him that night. Perhaps it was the remembered fragrance of flowers, or perhaps it was the thought that his life was indeed about to go a dramatic change.
Maria was waiting for him at the appointed time. She seemed distraught. As he dismounted she said, “I wonder if I could ask a favor of you?”
He smiled. “You can always ask.”
“Would you take the trap into town and pick Felicia up at school? I was supposed to, but I have a sick cow to tend to. I’m afraid we’ll have to put off the ranch tour again, but maybe another supper will make up for it.”
“I’m sure it will. But how come Felicia doesn’t just ride to school?”
“She’s not much for horses. Ordinarily one of the hands takes her in and picks her up at the end of the day, but they’re all out riding herd today, and I intended to go myself.”
Gold coins were dropping into his lap, or so Phil thought as he urged the horse into a trot on his way back to town: another delicious meal and one more opportunity to sit close to Felicia.
She didn’t seem surprised to see him. Her first words were, “I have to do a little shopping, if that’s alright with you. It shouldn’t take long.”
It did.
Limited as Dexter Springs’ offerings were—a feed store, a general store, a butcher shop, a seamstress’ shop and some other services catering to the local economy: blacksmith, bank and other similar businesses—Felicia managed to spend a good deal of the afternoon purchasing what she at first termed “needed supplies.” This included a lengthy discussion with the seamstress about current styles and the prospects for the completion of an outfit long ago ordered.
Despite himself, Phil showed the impatience typical of the male hovering on the fringes of a woman’s world. Felicia smiled and reassured him. “Estrella will hold supper for us, Phil.”
The sun was setting by the time they arrived at the ranch, but neither Estrella nor Maria seemed perturbed at the late arrival. “Mexican food can always be held warm for hours.” And tonight it was Mexican food. Phil was introduced to the exotic world of chicken fajitas and corn tamales, as well as eating manners that called for far less use of knife and fork and more of hands. If anything, the meal was even more delicious than the night before, and the conversation more sparkling—including the happy note that the sick cow was well on the way to recovery. Even Estrella was friendly and beaming with approval as Phil consumed seconds and went on to thirds.
A sudden rainstorm kept the post-dinner socializing indoors. This ended with Maria’s absolute assurance that the grand tour would occur on the following day, and an early morning hour was set for its start.
If anything, Phil’s night was even more restless, as decisions of far greater significance than mere settling down to a ranch job loomed. A quick breakfast was followed by a trip to the telegraph office. Surprisingly, his wire brought a quick reply. He turned his horse’s head in the direction of the Rodriguez spread, remembering—from somewhere back in his early school days—the expression, “The die is cast.” He only now fully understood its meaning and wondered how the die would land.
Maria was waiting for him, rawhide jacket over a wool shirt, chaps over pants that complemented her figure even more than her habitual skirts. He dismounted to help her up, but she had already vaulted lightly into the saddle of the roan gelding that was half-a-hand taller than Phil’s big mare. It soon became evident she and her animal were friends, and that both were looking forward to the ride.
The spread was enormous. A wide, shallow creek cut the property almost exactly in half. Cottonwoods crowded the bank. Beavers had created a deep pond, and the familiar smack of their tail splashings greeted the riders as they came over the rise. Coming across a large herd, Maria filled him in on the total number of cattle, introduced him to several hands, and finally stopped in a small grove. “I’ve got some lunch in the saddlebags. Not much, but it will tide us over until we get back.”
When they’d settled in a shady spot and Maria was spreading out a checkered cloth, Phil was the one who broached the important subject. “I get the feeling I’m being groomed for something more than ranch foreman. Any basis for that feeling?”
Maria took time out to bite off a portion of one of the chicken tamales she had laid out on the cloth, smiled, then said, “I guess I haven’t been very subtle.”
“Phew! I was beginning to wonder if I was imagining things.”
“Well, you weren’t. So now it’s time for me to put my cards on the table. What do you think about Felicia?”
“Very nice. Very attractive. I’m surprised she isn’t already married.”
“To someone around here? There really isn’t that much choice. You, on
the other hand, are quite different. It’s obvious that you’re concerned, understanding and will be gentle and kind. I’ve been around men long enough to become a good judge, though I did make one serious mistake in the past.” She held up a free hand. “Before you say anything one way or the other, let me tell you more.”
He waited, sampling a tamale that was as flavorful as any of the food he’d had the previous evening.
“When Felicia marries, half of this land will be hers. I know that sounds like a bribe, but it most certainly isn’t. Had my father lived, he would have insisted that Felicia have a substantial dowry. It’s a Mexican custom. I would not do otherwise.”
“Sorry, but from everything I’ve seen of Felicia, we would never be happy together.” It was his turn to hold up a hand before a surprised Maria could speak. “But I’ve wired a friend who would be ideal. He’s interested. Has already wired back.”
“What makes you think he’s ideal?”
Phil grinned. “He likes books, hates horses, and comes from New York. Felicia will be happy to know that the buildings there are a lot taller than in Chicago.”
Maria laughed at the information, then seemed lost in thought. Finally, after cleaning up the crumbs from her tamale, she asked, “Does that mean you aren’t interested in the foreman’s position?”
“Sorry. I’ve been working for someone else all of my life. It’s time to start working my own land and running my own herd.”
Her face showed her disappointment.
“I was wondering, though,” he went on, “if your father intended both of his daughters to have a dowry.”
Her face cleared. “Yes. Most certainly.”
____________________
LOVE BY DESIGN
Sitting down, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Standing up, which is what she did as he entered her office, she was even more so. Reaching out a small, soft hand to shake his, she said, “Welcome aboard. Ral? Is that what you go by?”
He nodded, finding it difficult to get words past his dry mouth.
“Well, I’m Cindy. When can you start?”
That’s all there was to it. No interview. No beating around the bush. He was now a salaried employee, making half again as much as he had at the college—just like that. He knew his credentials had been impressive, but they must have been even more so than he had thought. So far, he had only a vague idea concerning what he would be doing for the company, but what he did know sounded good.
And he had the nagging feeling he’d seen Cynthia Parker someplace before. A news telecast? A commercial? How could he possibly not remember someone that beautiful? Where had he seen those grey eyes, that almost elfin face before?
***
It had never really occurred to Raleigh Stevens that he could ever suffer burnout from teaching, but that was the only explanation he had for what was happening. Ten years of teaching industrial art and design at a first-rate college, holding a tenured position, bringing in a comfortable salary—all now seemed to pall. But, somehow, he felt it was more than that; that in a way his whole personality was changing.
His had been a single-minded life. His work had been all-encompassing. There had been little time for, or interest in, anything else. No hobbies. As for women, he had always been shy around them. The few relationships of the past had been ephemeral. And then they had invariably suffered mainly because he showed more passion for his work than for his companion. But now he felt there was something missing, something he hadn’t encountered in his thirty-five years of life.
There was a time when he had shunned any kind of camaraderie, when looking out at a sea of faces in his large classes was about all the human contact he wanted or needed. Up until now, he had thoroughly enjoyed teaching—at a distance. But here he was finding himself seeking out company—other members of the faculty—wanting to share his feelings. Rumors of his discontent had even gotten to Sharon “Ma” Blake, Dean of the Division.
“What is it, Ral?” she had asked when she dropped by his office. “Word’s going around that you’re about to chuck it.”
Stevens actually felt relieved to hear that talk of his pending resignation had gotten this far. It made the final decision that much easier. Before he could explain, Blake went on. “You know we can’t offer you more salary. We have to stick to the schedule. But maybe we can pass along some perks. How about a couple of extra meetings out of state? A new office, perhaps?” She grinned. “Maybe a corner office, with windows facing the Sound?”
Stevens shook his head. “No. It’s time to move on. I think my teaching days are over. I’ve always had the reputation for being crotchety, and now I’m beginning to feel it’s deserved. I find I’m getting impatient with students. Besides, I had a taste of independent work during my sabbatical. I liked the flavor.”
“You won’t be able to start on your own. Not these days. The time of a home office and a drawing board as the first step to success is long gone. Just the software alone costs a fortune. And working for a big company wouldn’t allow you much independence. I know you well enough. You’re a loner, and it’s all teamwork out there these days. Putting you in with a work crew would be like taking an owl out in bright sunlight and throwing it into the midst of a bunch of starlings.”
The conversation went on. Stevens wasn’t tempted to change his mind, but did agree to put off a final decision until contract renewal time. Even so, the conversation with Ma Blake had forced him to give serious thought to what his post-academic career would be like. Most of all, he wondered how to go about looking for a position in some company that could use his talents. The answer, in the form of a nodding acquaintance, came while he was sitting alone at a table in the college cafeteria.
Stevens only vaguely remembered Sidney Karlo. Not the name, never the face. Ral was notorious for not remembering faces, so that was unsurprising. What was different this time was the readiness with which he welcomed Karlo to a seat at the table. In the past he would have been reluctant to do so—and ready to leave at a moment’s notice on the flimsiest of excuses. Yes, the changes in Stevens were fundamental ones.
‘Extrovert’ was an apt term to apply to Karlo. He was certainly a glad-hander. Putting his coffee down on the table, and making himself comfortable, he was singularly undisturbed by the lack of recognition and said so. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. Indianapolis convention, last year. You gave a talk about the new look in commercial art. Big crowd. Had some automobile drawings—computer enhanced. Several of us went out to lunch afterwards.”
“Hawthorne Ad Agency—right?” Stevens had no problem remembering facts and figures, or names of companies in his field of interest.
“Right. I’ve been scouting around today, looking for someone with lots of experience in the field. Ma Blake mentioned your name. She wasn’t exactly happy with bringing it up, by the way, but I guess she’s resigned to your leaving academia. Insists you’re making a mistake—a big mistake; that you’ll never be happy in the outside world.”
Stevens made a deprecating noise. “I know what she thinks. But I told her I’d have to find out for myself. She did convince me to take a year’s leave of absence instead of just resigning, so I’m not completely blowing up my bridges. What’s this position you’re talking about? I might be interested.”
“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Vice-President in Charge of Marketing for Hawthorne.”
Stevens shook his head. He didn’t remember, but the headshake was really for marketing.
Karlo seemed to read his mind. “Nope. I’m not recruiting for my department. A couple of days ago I happened to be talking to the Production VP who is recruiting, and I also happened to be coming out this way, so I offered to check out prospects. It’s an industrial design campaign. All very hush-hush. I don’t know the details myself. But if you’re interested, send in your résumé.”
Stevens had few illusions about the world he was about to enter. “To the VP of production? Since when does someone that
far down the ladder make any major hiring decisions? I’ll probably just get the run-around. He’ll send the application off to the CEO who’ll end up hiring his cousin.”
“Hey, Ral, don’t be so cynical. VPs have a lot of power in this organization.” With a wry smile he added, “The Production VP is a she, by the way, and as far as the CEO and the Board are concerned, she can do no wrong. If she wants to hire a three-legged giraffe, they’ll just bow and scrape and say ‘how wonderful.’ I have to admit she’s sharp, though. In the five years she’s been in charge, we’ve gotten contracts from dozens of major companies who just eat up what her department produces. But she pushes her workers—hard. If you decide to take the job, she’ll make you feel like a galley slave.”
“That wouldn’t bother me. I’ve never been afraid of work. I should be able to pull my oar with the best of them.”
***
As Cindy guided him around the workplace, he almost forgot she was there, so impressed was he with the technology on display. Accustomed as he was to the stingy budget inevitable in even the most generously endowed educational institutions, Ral was astonished at what he saw available here. The giant flat-panel display screens, the new holographs, the printers—with capacities and capabilities he hadn’t even known were available—were scattered through a vast room where a dozen workers clustered around the various pieces of equipment.
“You’ll have carte blanche in ordering any software or hardware you feel you need.” The soft voice brought him back to her presence—her close presence, as she hovered near enough so she wouldn’t have to talk above the office noises. Ral became conscious of a subtle perfume—or was it simply a fresh clean smell?
The next stop was his office. It could have held several the size of the one he had left behind at the college. It looked more like a lounge, with several large comfortable chairs, a magnificent drafting table, an unobtrusive desk and what was obviously the very latest of PC’s sporting an enormous monitor. Waving Ral to a seat, Cindy walked over to the desk—while his eyes followed her small, slender figure appreciatively—picked up a large folder and came back to a chair beside him.
Dear Diary, I'm In Love Page 25