A Change in Altitude

by Cindy Myers

  “Or maybe the lesson is, ‘Don’t be the person everyone expects you to be,’ ” Olivia said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, did you ever expect Cassie to pay for her own banner and then climb up a ladder to hang it? I didn’t. I thought she was all about manipulating other people to do what she wanted.”

  “Well, she did recruit Alina and Lucas to do most of the work.”

  “Still, she paid for the banner. She stopped whining and just did something for a change.”

  “That probably ought to go on a bumper sticker.” Lucille started the car, then glanced at the banner one more time. “It looks nice,” she said. “I think I’ll vote for it to stay.”

  “Tell Cassie she owes you one,” Olivia said. “Who knows? It might pay off one day.”

  Chapter 13

  Sharon smoothed the hair back out of Alina’s eyes. “What were you thinking—up on that ladder with that heavy sign?” she asked. “You could have fallen and broken your neck.” She’d brought the young people back to her house, proud of herself for remaining calm.

  “It wasn’t that heavy.” Alina squirmed away from her mother and pretended to focus on the sandwich her mother had fixed as a makeshift supper. “And I couldn’t let old Miss Wynock climb up on the ladder, could I?”

  “She’s really not that old, you know.” Sharon sat at the end of the table and contemplated her own sandwich. Cassie was technically old enough to be Sharon’s mother, and thus Alina’s grandmother, but she wasn’t ancient and decrepit.

  “What’s dotage?” Alina asked.

  “It means somebody who’s really old and maybe not altogether with it. You know, like when they say somebody is dotty?” Lucas looked up from his tuna sandwich, then flushed. “Sorry, Mrs. Franklin. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

  “I don’t mind the interrupting as much as I mind you involving Alina in these schemes of yours,” Sharon said. But there was no malice behind her words, and without being asked, she added more tea to Lucas’s glass.

  “I tried to talk Miss Wynock out of it,” Lucas said. “Nobody believes me, but I did. But she was really determined.”

  “I thought it was a good idea,” Alina said. “The town should do more to honor the women who were so important in settling the area. All anyone remembers is the men.”

  “When the police came to tell the mayor you were up there on that ladder I couldn’t believe it,” Sharon said, not ready yet to let her daughter off the hook.

  “We weren’t breaking any law.” Alina’s voice rose. “Officer Miller even helped me with the sign.”

  “Maggie took our picture for the paper,” Lucas said. “I’ll bet we make the front page.”

  “Cool!”

  “Just how I want everyone in town to get to know my daughter,” Sharon said.

  “Oh, Mom—people in Eureka are nice. They won’t think you’re a bad mom or anything.”

  “How was the baby shower?” Lucas asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

  Sharon should have been annoyed, but maybe it was time to leave this topic for now. “The shower was nice. Maggie got a lot of things she needed for the baby. Some pretty clothes.”

  “I can’t wait to see them. All those little shirts and tiny socks—so cute.”

  Lucas rolled his eyes and pushed back from the table. “Thanks for the sandwich, Mrs. Franklin,” he said. “I’d better get home or I’ll be late for dinner.”

  She could have pointed out that the sandwich was dinner, but for a teenage boy that was probably irrelevant. “You’re welcome, Lucas.”

  “See you tomorrow,” he said to Alina.

  When Lucas was gone, Alina started clearing the table without being asked. “Don’t be mad, Mom,” she said. “I was just trying to help Miss Wynock.”

  “I know Cassie can be . . . persuasive.” She’d been about to say “bossy,” but maybe that wasn’t the best way to describe her supervisor in front of her daughter. “But next time, check with me before you do something like this. Let me deal with Cassie. With school out next week, maybe we need to set some rules for you.”

  Alina slumped. “I’m thirteen, Mom. I can look after myself while you’re at work.”

  “What are you going to do with yourself all day?”

  “I can hang out with Lucas.”

  “I don’t know if I like you spending so much time alone with a boy.”

  More eye rolling. “Lucas and I are just friends.”

  “I know, dear, but sometimes friends can develop . . . feelings for one another, and that can lead to experimenting and . . .” Oh, this wasn’t going well. Sharon’s face was hot and Alina looked torn between laughter and tears.

  “Mom! Lucas and I aren’t going to have sex. We’re just going to, you know, ride our bikes and talk and stuff. He has to paint and stuff at his mom’s new house and I could help with that.”

  “All right. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you.”

  “But you don’t trust me.” Alina patted Sharon’s arm. “It’s okay. But honestly, Lucas and I are just friends.”

  “And I’m glad you’ve made friends here in Eureka. I really am.”

  “I have girlfriends, too, but none of them are as fun as Lucas.”

  “Whatever came of that research project you were working on with him, searching the tax records to find more about the history of his house?”

  “We found the records, but it was crazy. Mrs. McCutcheon just disappears after 1966. Maybe her husband really did murder her and bury her in the backyard.”

  Sharon rubbed her shoulders against a sudden chill. “I hope that’s not really the case.”

  “Well, it did happen years and years ago. But it would be cool to know . . . like solving a mystery.”

  Sharon had never been a fan of mysteries. But she’d welcome any detective, amateur or professional, who could find her son for her.

  A knock on the door distracted her from her brooding. “I’ll get it!” Alina shouted, and popped up from the table.

  By the time Sharon made it into the living room, Officer Josh Miller had stepped inside. “Hello, Sharon,” he said.

  She wondered what had happened to “Mrs. Franklin,” but she liked the way he said her name, and she’d never been a very formal person anyway.

  “Hello, Josh.” She hesitated only a little over the name, and his smile told her she’d made the right decision.

  Alina collected her backpack from where she’d dropped it by the door when she’d come in from school on Friday. “I have homework,” she said. “Thanks for helping me with the sign, Officer Miller. That banner was a lot heavier than it looks.”

  “You’re welcome, Alina.”

  And then he and Sharon were alone, with two feet of space and a much larger silence between them. “She’s a good girl,” he said.

  “Yes, she is.” Sharon tried not to fidget. “Can I get you anything? I have iced tea.”

  “Tea would be nice.”

  “It’s in the kitchen.” She turned and he followed. She hastily cleared the remains of dinner and put fresh ice in glasses.

  He pulled out a chair and sat as if he’d spent hours in her kitchen, perfectly at home. “I’m beginning to get a complex,” he said. “You look so hopeful every time you see me; then you always end up disappointed.”

  She clutched an empty ice tray to her chest. “It’s not you. I—”

  “I know. And that was my poor attempt at a joke.”

  “I’m not good company right now, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s all right.” He shifted in the chair, enough to remove his wallet from his hip pocket, and withdrew a folded scrap of paper. “Tell me what you think of this.”

  The paper was a classified ad.

  Wanted: Self-sufficient, skilled patriots to form a society for a new Republic.

  While others struggle to survive in the new reality, we will thrive and lead the way to the new millennium. Reply to Box 70.


  A shiver raced up her spine. She looked up at Josh. “Where did you get this?”

  “It’s from the classified section of a magazine for preppers. Does that sound like something your ex-husband would have responded to?”

  “It sounds like something he would have written.” She sank into a chair. “Where did you get a prepper magazine?”

  “Bob Prescott subscribes. I saw him with it at the post office the other day and asked if I could take a look. I was really just curious, but for some reason the ad caught my eye.”

  She read the ad again. “It doesn’t say where this supposed community is.”

  “I can check with the magazine. They may not know either, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “It sounds innocent enough,” she said. “All patriotic and peaceful.”

  “Was your husband ever violent?”

  “Yes and no.”

  He leaned toward her. “Care to elaborate on that?”

  “He had a lot of guns. He taught us all how to shoot, so we’d know how to defend ourselves.”

  “Against what—or whom?”

  “No specific threat—foreign invaders, people who tried to destroy our home—no one in particular.”

  “But you don’t think he’d hurt your son?”

  It was the second time today someone had asked that question, but her answer was the same. “No, Joe loved Adan. As much as Joe could love anyone. His son was an extension of himself, a chance to live out his hopes and dreams.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure to put on a kid.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “Adan adores his father, but I worry about the long-term effect of Joe’s influence.”

  “He has your influence to counteract that.”

  “Had.” She met his gaze, hoping, perhaps, for some reassurance or comfort from those warm brown eyes. “What if he thinks I let him go too easily? What if he believes—and Joe lets him believe—that I didn’t love him enough to fight for him? That I willingly abandoned him.” Saying the words out loud made her stomach clench.

  “You had to make an awful choice,” Josh said. “You did your best—it’s all any of us can do. If it helps, my father raised me after my mother died, and I like to think I turned out okay.” He held out his hand. “Let me have that back and I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Of course.” She returned the little square of paper, then looked around, trying to remember what she was supposed to be doing. Her gaze landed on the glasses of ice still sitting on the counter. “Your tea.”

  “That’s all right.” He stood. “I have to go, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Thanks for stopping by.” She stood also. “And thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime.” He touched her arm—a brief contact that carried with it a great deal of reassurance. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  She walked him to the front door and watched him climb into his cruiser and drive away. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up that the ad would lead to anything; Josh probably didn’t think so either, but she was touched that he’d gone to the trouble to cut it out. Knowing he’d done so made her feel less alone, and that was a gift in and of itself; but at the same time, the feeling made her nervous.

  She was fighting hard to stand on her own two feet, to avoid years of conditioning that told her to look to a man to make decisions for her. Jameso refusing to do that was probably the best thing that could have happened to her, but she was still trying to find her way. It would be so easy to surrender the small bit of independence she’d gained to rely on a man like Josh for help and comfort. Like an addict who needed to avoid drink or drugs, she needed to spend some time alone, making friends with herself and discovering her own strengths.

  Chris Amesbury turned out to be a lanky surfer dude whose long blond hair wasn’t combed quite artfully enough to hide his bald spot, and whose blond goatee was heavily sprinkled with gray. His uniform of board shorts, Mexican guayabera shirt, and rubber sandals stood out even among the tourists on Eureka’s streets, but his enthusiasm for the town won over the welcoming committee that greeted his car and driver on the steps of the Idlewilde B and B Inn, otherwise known as Barb’s place.

  “Welcome to Eureka, Mr. Amesbury.” Lucille, who’d unearthed an actual blazer from dry cleaner’s bags at the back of her closet, greeted the VIP with a firm handshake.

  “The town is perfect,” he said in a voice an octave higher than she’d expected. “So charming. And the scenery!”

  “Thank you,” Lucille said, then had to hold back a snort of nervous laughter. As if she herself were personally responsible for the scenery. “Most people who come here end up falling in love with the place. I’d like you to meet Barbara and James Stanowski. They own this bed-and-breakfast.”

  “So pleased to meet you.” Barb, dressed in a chic pantsuit, looked every inch the former beauty queen and current socialite. Beside her, Jimmy fidgeted in the suit she’d made him wear, despite his protests that he’d come to Eureka to relax and see his wife, not fawn over Hollywood directors. “I hope you’ll be comfortable during your stay.”

  “As long as you have room service and plenty of drinks, I’ll be great,” Amesbury said.

  Barb’s smile never faltered. “We don’t have room service, but I can give you directions to all the restaurants and a wonderful bar. It will be the perfect way for you to get to know some of the townspeople.”

  “Oh. That’s, uh, very thoughtful of you.”

  “We try to think of everything.” She put a well-manicured hand on his arm, the red lacquer standing out against skin that was surprisingly pale for someone from California. “Let me show you to your room.”

  The welcoming party, which consisted of Lucille, Maggie, Reggie, Katya, Junior Dominick, and Paul Percival, flowed up the stairs after the director and his hosts. Though most of the bedrooms remained unfurnished, the rest of the house looked amazing, like something straight out of a luxury home brochure. Plush carpet in a deep shade of rose muffled their footsteps, and paintings that looked real and valuable filled the walls.

  “Putting him here might have been a wrong move,” Reggie whispered in Lucille’s ear. “The rest of the town is going to look like Dogpatch after this luxury.”

  “Hush.” Lucille sent him a quelling look. “The rest of the town is authentic. He said he wanted authentic.”

  “This is your room.” Barb opened the door to a large bedroom that overlooked the front of the house. It was furnished in a cherry four-poster, a red-velvet fainting couch, and had its own fireplace. She ushered the director inside, then turned to the others. “Perhaps you’d like to wait downstairs while Mr. Amesbury freshens up for lunch.”

  Right. What kind of rubes followed a guy into his bedroom? Lucille thought as she did an about face and headed toward the stairs. Dogpatch indeed.

  Downstairs, they filed outside to wait in what Barb referred to as “the front garden,” though it was actually a narrow strip of grass flanked by two small rose bushes and a handful of zinnias. Bees buzzed around the flowers and Lucille slipped on sunglasses to fight the glare off the home’s white siding.

  “What did you think?” Junior asked.

  “He said he liked the town. That was good.”

  Junior shoved both hands in his pants pockets and frowned up at the house. “Has he said yet what kind of movie he wants to make?”

  “He’s only been here ten minutes,” Lucille said. “Give him time.”

  Which may have been a poor choice of words, she thought thirty minutes later when they were still waiting for Amesbury to join them. The front door opened and they all perked up like schoolchildren at the final bell, but it was only Barb.

  “What’s taking him so long?” Paul demanded. “He’s not taking a nap, is he?”

  Barb’s smile had vanished, and her poise was frayed at the edges. “He asked for ice, then he wanted a different pillow, then he didn’t like the toilet paper.” She gave a delicate shudder. “I
now know far too much about the man’s hemorrhoids, but I was finally able to satisfy him.”

  “Thank you, Barb. The town appreciates everything you’re doing,” Reggie said.

  “They’d better.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Jimmy’s with him now, talking golf and trying to ease him toward the door. He said he’s eager to soak up the ‘atmosphere.’ ”

  “He’ll have plenty of opportunity to do that,” Lucille said. “After lunch at the Last Dollar he gets the VIP tour of the town.”

  “And he’s agreed to an interview for the paper,” Maggie said. “I’m hoping I can get him to talk more about his movie.”

  “What’s the big secret about the movie anyway?” Junior asked.

  “He said it was such a fabulous idea he’s afraid someone will steal it from him if he talks about it too much,” Lucille said. “But he’s promised to tell us all about it before he leaves town.”

  “I hope it’s a western,” Reggie said. “I love a good western; they don’t make enough of those.”

  “I hope whatever it is, it takes a long time to film and requires a big crew and a lot of actors who’ll need to stay in town and spend money,” Lucille said.

  The front door opened and Jimmy emerged, followed by the director, who’d added a battered cowboy hat and a leather satchel to his outfit. “I’m at your disposal, Madam Mayor,” he said.

  “We thought lunch first, then a short tour of the town,” she said, leading the way to the SUV she’d borrowed from Olivia and D. J. for the day.

  “Lunch sounds marvelous. And I’m really hoping to get to meet more of the locals while I’m in town. I want to get a real flavor for Eureka’s personality.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” she said. “People here are very curious about you.”

  “I don’t imagine celebrities make it this far back in the hinterlands, do they?”

  Lucille didn’t know if a director she’d never heard of counted as a celebrity, but she wisely kept her mouth shut while Amesbury and Reg made small talk about the flight from Hollywood to Denver to Montrose. She pulled into the reserved parking spot in front of the Last Dollar ahead of a crowd of townspeople hoping to catch a glimpse of the man himself. He emerged from the SUV smiling and waving like the grand marshal at a parade and people responded with applause, which seemed to please him.