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by Deborah D. Moore


  Adele led him over to the table where it lay. Jeff walked around the table, scrutinizing the heavy paper.

  “That is absolutely stunning. I get different impressions from the different angles. Which one are you going to use?”

  She was impressed that he could see that. “I don’t know yet. Tell me, what do you see?”

  “From here the pine needles are falling, drifting downward. Yet from here…” he moved to the other side, “…I see the needles in flight, like they are on a gust of wind being carried away.” He looked at her. “What do you see?”

  She smiled broadly and turned the paper over, revealing the title, Wind Swept. “Are you sure you didn’t sneak in here and peek?”

  Jeff smiled. “Your work really is amazing, Adele. It evokes emotions.”

  ***

  They sat at the snack bar to drink their wine. Jeff got up once to put another log on the fire.

  “Tell me more about the resort,” Adele prompted. “How long have you worked here?”

  He looked down into his empty glass. Before answering, he reached for the bottle of wine and refilled their glasses.

  “I’ve been here from the start, Adele. This is my resort. I’m the owner. I have a degree in architecture and designed the entire compound. What you see has been a long time dream of mine.”

  “No wonder Aaron called you boss-man.” She smiled. “Why domes? They must have been more costly to construct.” She rested her chin on her palm, watching him.

  “Yes and no. Since I was my own designer and builder I saved a bundle. As for why domes, they’re safer for this area. I designed them for tolerating a tremendous amount of snow-load, and they’ve held up beyond my expectations. Nothing would ruin a vacation quicker than having the roof cave in,” Jeff laughed.

  “Okay, I’m taking your word on that. The power plant my mother is so afraid of: where is it and does it have any vulnerabilities?”

  “Your mother?”

  “My mother is a prepper and lives in the woods in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. When she found out where I was hiding out, she was all paranoid about you losing power during the winter.”

  “A prepper? I’ve heard the term before. What did she suggest?”

  “Well, when she found out this condo is all electric, she made me promise to get a camp stove to cook on, oil lamps for lighting, and lots of food. The food I had already taken care of, since I planned on not leaving here again for a minimum of six months. My last run into town was to Walstroms for the camping equipment,” Adele explained.

  “She sounds like a smart woman. Do you always do what she says?” Jeff asked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

  “I have to. She knows when I’m lying to her. Besides, too many times she’s been right and I should have listened. Had I listened I would have saved myself from the worst mistake of my life.”

  “That sounds like a story in itself,” he replied. “Why don’t we continue this over dinner? I think the special tonight is salmon.”

  “I have a better idea.” Adele stood and pulled the two steaks out of the refrigerator she had thawing. “While I cook, tell me about the generator so I can quell my mother’s worries.”

  “Well, it is a power plant, about the size of your bedroom. Although it’s run primarily on wind power, it does have a backup propane fuel input. I try not to use the propane, partly because of cost, though mostly the unreliability of winter refills. It’s located on the other side of the complex, along with the five hundred gallon gas tank for the vehicles, out of the way, and housed in their own domes for protection and for fitting in. Some consider the generators and three windmills unsightly, so they’re out of the way too. All the power lines are underground so nothing can be damaged from bad weather. Both the propane and the gas tank were refilled a week ago. You can tell your mother not to worry.”

  “Impressive. How many times has it gone down?” she asked.

  “Never.”

  ***

  “That was wonderful, thank you. I didn’t expect to be fed,” Jeff commented, rinsing their plates and setting them in the dishwasher. “So tell me about the worst mistake of your life.”

  “I got married.”

  Jeff waited for the chuckle that usually went with a statement like that. It didn’t come.

  “I’ve been divorced for almost ten months now. My mom knew Kyle was bad news right from the start. How, I don’t know, because he sure had me fooled, until after we were married. Then he showed his violent side.” Adele saw the startled and concerned look on Jeff’s face. “Don’t worry, not only is he locked away in a mental hospital, but no one knows exactly where I am, not my mother, not my attorney, no one.”

  “So is he why you’re hiding?” Jeff asked softly, knowing he was treading into a delicate issue.

  “Yes. I’m hoping that six months of intense therapy will help him, and he’ll lose his obsession with me. Restraining orders haven’t worked.” She set her glass down. “That was probably too much information, right? Sorry, must be the wine,” she paused briefly, “and the comfortable company.”

  Adele walked over to the woodstove and added another log. “And now that I’ve effectively scared you off …” She shrugged.

  “Hey, Adele, I don’t scare off that easily.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and the desire to kiss her was almost overwhelming. Almost. “On that note, I do have to get back to plowing. Thank you again for dinner. Please let me know when you’ve completed another painting. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this private viewing.”

  What am I getting myself into? Jeff thought pulling away from her unit. If I weren’t the boss I’d fire me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Ever notice how winter storms sound louder than summer storms? They’re not really though. A summer storm has wind and rain, thunder and lightning, all competing for your ears. A winter storm has wind and snow, no thunder, no lightning, no pounding rain, and the snow is silent. So all you hear is the wind howling and it sounds louder because it’s the only thing you can hear.” Adele stood at the picture window staring at the swirling snow, talking to Jeff as he circled the table with three new paintings spread out.

  He walked over to her desk, set his wine glass down, and went back to pick up one of the paintings. “I can’t figure this one out, Adele. What is it?”

  She went back to see which one had him perplexed. Ah, this was a difficult one, she thought. She took it from him and turned it once, so it was on end, and handed it back. “What do you see now?”

  “This is going on a Christmas card?”

  She laughed hard. “No, it’s going on my wall.”

  “It’s a… fire breathing dragon, stomping the shit out of something!”

  She laughed again. “Sometimes the paintings tell me what they are, not the other way around.” She turned it again. “I wanted it to be a log cabin in the woods at sunrise, but it had other ideas.” Adele flipped it over to reveal the title: Dragon’s Breath. “It took me ten days because I was fighting it. Those two were done in two days, while I put this one aside.”

  “No wonder I haven’t seen much of you lately,” he said, setting the painting down and retrieving his glass. “This deserves a night out!”

  “In this storm?”

  “It’s only a little snow. You told me you don’t melt, remember? Besides, the chef has something special planned for tonight.”

  ***

  Adele had changed into a pair of her new flannel lined pants, a turtleneck sweater, coat, hat, fur lined gloves, and tall boots for the walk down to the restaurant. While Jeff had called it only a ‘little snow,’ she thought of it as a light blizzard. He appeared unaffected by the chilling winds.

  “What is the special tonight?” she asked the waiter.

  “Before you answer that, Matt, check with Chet. I think he was
doing something different for us tonight,” Jeff interrupted.

  “Yes, sir. What about a wine, Miss Michaels?” Matt asked. The staff was getting used to having her around. He had heard through the staff gossip vine that she was staying all winter, perhaps longer.

  “I think we would be safe with a white, Matt.” She smiled at him, thinking of how pleasant all of the personnel was toward her.

  “Very good. I’ll double check with Chef Chet to make sure it won’t clash with whatever he’s planning,” he said to Jeff and departed.

  ***

  “Stuffed rainbow trout? Wow, I’m impressed,” Adele gushed.

  “And a Caesar salad,” Jeff said.

  “Yes, and the Caesar salad. I love Caesar salad. You’re spoiling me,” she said, taking a forkful of the crabmeat-stuffed trout.

  “There are advantages to being the working general manager and decision-maker. When Chet needs to try out something, I get to be the guinea pig, and that’s not a complaint,” he replied. “I’m going to guess too that the recent shipment of food included the fresh fish, and likely Chet froze the rest.”

  “I didn’t notice any food trucks recently,” Adele commented.

  “We try to be discreet. There’s a separate entrance for supply trucks. We have a walk-in freezer, walk-in cooler, and an extensive pantry. Chet likes to maintain a well-stocked pantry and freezer, and from the looks of the bills, he’s about done, with the exception of fresh vegetables once a week. In December when we get busy I’ll hire a baker, too. I’m pleased to say the restaurant portion of the resort has developed an excellent reputation among the locals.”

  “It would appear that I definitely picked the right place to come,” she said.

  “Considering the quality of work you’ve created already, I would have to agree.”

  “I don’t see many people about, Jeff. Who is here?” Adele asked curiously.

  Jeff leaned back in his chair. “You’ve met Aaron. He’s my right arm here; an all-around handyman and excellent mechanic. Then there is Beth, and before you say anything, please accept my apology for not reminding you that housekeeping is part of what you pay for. She came to me right after that incident and told me everything. She was upset until I explained to her your desire for privacy.”

  “Thank you. I think we’ll be okay now. Who else is here?”

  “It’s a skeleton staff right now, so other than Aaron and Beth, who are married, by the way, there is Matt, Chet, and myself. The first of December, the number will triple. We also have three condos still occupied, other than yours. The total people, guests and staff, are twelve. One of the couples will be leaving tomorrow.”

  “Is it worth staying open for so few?” Adele questioned.

  “Absolutely,” he replied. “Oh, and Chet insists on doing Thanksgiving dinner. It will be a private party for all the guests and staff. I know it’s still a week away, but may I ask you to attend with me?”

  “Like a date?”

  “Like a date.”

  “I’d like that, Jeff.” Adele took a sip of the buttery chardonnay to hide her grin.

  ***

  After letting herself into the condo, Adele kicked off her boots, added another log to the fire, and sat down to sketch. Leaving the restaurant in the snow, Adele was mesmerized by the view of her condo up the hill.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Adele pushed away from the art table and stood. She circled the table once, noting the changes in the latest painting. After wetting the paper with a watered down blue, the only colors she had used after that were gray and white. The effect was nothing short of stunning. It took her five days but she decided this might be her best piece yet.

  She dialed the front desk from her cellphone.

  “What can I do for my lovely lady?” Jeff answered, recognizing the number.

  “You can join me for dinner tonight. I have something to show you,” she replied, inwardly grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

  “You’ve finished another piece? I’ll be there at six!”

  Jeff sighed after hanging up the phone. He was becoming very attached to his favorite resident, and wondered if that was good or bad.

  ***

  Adele started a batch of spaghetti sauce from a recipe in her head that was her mother’s. Simmering the rest of the day would be required to bring out all the different flavors. With the pot on the back burner of the stove, she cleaned up her art table, washing the brushes carefully and putting all but the one finished piece away in her portfolio bag. This one piece had center stage tonight.

  ***

  Jeff arrived promptly at six o’clock, carrying a bottle of chilled champagne.

  “It smells heavenly in here!” He breathed in the aromas. “Talented, beautiful, and she can cook.” He handed Adele the bottle. “I’m not sure if this will go with the spaghetti I smell, but I got the impression this was a special viewing.”

  He kissed her chastely on the cheek.

  “It is.” Adele grinned. She handed the bottle of Dom Pérignon back to him to open while she removed two flutes from the overhead rack. After he poured the bubbling wine, he stepped back. She hooked her arm into his and led him to the near empty art table. Earlier she had placed a single sheet of blank paper over the finished piece. Now she removed it.

  Jeff looked at the artwork, then at her, then back at the table.

  “Adele...” He walked around the table, pausing on each side for a good look. He walked around a second time. “Adele. I’m speechless. Which view is the real one?”

  “They all are.”

  They stood there looking at an almost three-dimensional rendition of the condos, as viewed from Jeff’s perspective while he was at the front desk.

  He walked around the table yet again, admiring the gray and white snowy picture. “Will you never cease to amaze me? This is beyond beautiful, it’s… alive.”

  “And it’s yours,” she said quietly.

  He took her wine glass from her and set it on the island next to his. Turning back to her, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently, then deeply.

  “I can’t accept the painting.”

  “You’d better. I made it for you.”

  “But—”

  Adele looked hurt. “Would you really reject something I’m freely offering to you that came from my heart?”

  “No, not when you put it that way.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. Their eyes locked and their lips met again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jeff called Adele from the front desk where he was busy doing paperwork and paying bills on the computer. He called rather than stop in to see her. After the other night, he couldn’t get her off his mind and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her if they were alone. Their evening had been erotic, made more so by remaining chaste.

  “You do know what today is, don’t you?”

  “Well now, let’s see. It’s Thursday, right?” she replied with a chuckle.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Oh, I know! It’s a Thursday so I don’t have to cook!”

  “You are being cruel to me,” Jeff said, feigning being crushed by her words.

  Adele laughed. “What time is dinner?”

  “How about I pick you up at four o’clock?”

  “I can walk down. Considering that chef of yours, I might need to walk several miles to wear off the feast I hear he’s creating.”

  “Okay, but I insist on escorting you home.”

  “Deal.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I’m only being honest with you, Kyle, and as your attorney, I’m suggesting you listen to me and listen closely,” Colin Jones stated. He sat in the same chair across from Kyle Polez as Adele had. While he didn’t particularly like his cli
ent, he paid well and always on time.

  “I’m listening, but you better be working on a way to get me out of here or you’re fired,” Kyle sulked.

  “I am, but you have to help,” Colin leaned forward on his elbows. “Adele won’t budge on dropping the charges. You were supposed to leave her alone. Instead you tried to abduct her and you broke her arm in the process. The judge is not looking at that as you being rehabilitated.”

  “She’s my wife!” Kyle slapped the table hard, and the guard at the door went on alert. Taking note, Kyle dropped his voice to a whisper. “I was only trying to get her to come home where she belongs.”

  “By the ruling of a judge in the state of Texas, Adele is no longer your wife. She divorced you legally over ten months ago. The only way you have of ever making up with her, and getting out of here, is to be a model patient. Go to therapy, take your meds, and show the good state of Texas you are no longer an anger risk.” Colin eyed his client. He could see the anger and violence hovering just below the surface. “Can you do that, Kyle? Can you pretend long enough to get out of here?” Colin had set the hook.

  “Yeah, I can do that,” Kyle replied. And when I get out of here I’m going to find that bitch and kill her for putting me through this.

  ***

  Six weeks later, millionaire Kyle Polez stepped past the keyless gates and slid into the backseat of his limo.

  “Take me to my office,” he demanded of his driver. “Please.”

  ***

  Kyle ran his hands over the soft leather of his chair. From behind his desk he could see the entire office, but because of the one-way tint, his staff couldn’t see him watching them. He pushed a button and closed the drapery, and then buzzed his secretary.

 

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