by Ken Dickson
“What, that trailer?”
I laughed. “No, Dad, that’s actually where I live, but look beyond that.”
He squinted through his trifocals and his eyes widened. “You built this?”
“Not just me. A lot of us. I know that you don’t believe in changed people, but everyone here is changed. All of us. It’s a prototype for neighborhoods of the future.”
“What a lovely community.”
“I’ll take you for a tour.” I helped him off the rock and then we walked down Shaughnessey Road.
“We have sixteen homes, eight on each side of the street. Each is an experiment in living with people of different backgrounds inhabiting all but four of them. Primera is a micro-city, in many ways self-sufficient. We have our own general store, school, work shop and recreation facility, and we recently installed solar panels that provide a good chunk of our power.” Midway through the neighborhood, we turned right onto a sidewalk that cut between the homes and proceeded toward the bike trail that encircled Primera.
“Notice that there are no block walls typical of most yards in Phoenix. This is common in other parts of the country, and we feel it creates a sense of unity.” We passed by two beautiful flower gardens, one on each side of the sidewalk, and then turned left onto the bike trail. “I helped build all of the gardens here with the help of a very talented landscaper.”
The side of the trail closest to the homes was grass, and the opposite side was a band of crushed foothills gold granite separating the walkway from the desert. As we walked, we passed enormous boulders, mesquite and palo verde trees. Scattered between those were yucca, agave, saguaro, Texas sage and hesperaloe.
“This trail is a half-mile long and circles the entire neighborhood.” Just beyond the last home, we turned left at another garden onto a smaller walkway that took us past the volleyball pit and tennis courts. We continued until we reached the “Welcome” bench that Emma and I had installed near the entrance to the pool.
“The pool has four lap lanes, a kiddy pool, a separate play area with a waterfall and slide, and a hot tub. On the other side of it is a covered playground. Have a seat,” I said, motioning toward the bench. As he sat, I joined him. “There’s more to see, but what do you think?”
“I’m impressed. Are you going to franchise this? You could make some serious money.” Dad was big on money and success. In fact, he once proudly boasted to me that he was a ‘capitalist pig and proud of it.’ But I was counting on his eye for nature to win him over.
“It’s never been about money. I know that you like beautiful things. This place is a stepping-stone to an even more beautiful project. I don’t need your help to build it, but I’d be deeply honored if you’d help me find the location for it.”
“Why me? You’ve obviously got talented people working for you.”
“The truth is, you’re the most qualified person for the job. You’ve got a great eye for natural beauty, and you’re the best problem solver that I know. Beyond that, it’s a chance for you and Mom to see some amazing sights around the U.S., and you can stay in the best hotels wherever you go—all expenses paid. All I need is for you to find the most beautiful and functional site that you can that suits our needs. You won’t be alone. A support team will take care of your every need, even cat sitting.”
“When you showed me those cockamamie papers about Utopia with all your chicken scratching back at Gracewood, it was clearly insanity. Now, you’re showing me this. It’s unbelievable, really, but we can’t do it. Your mom and I will be eighty this year. We’re not spring chickens anymore, and we’ve got our hands full at home.”
Deep down, I knew what I was really doing: trying to prove to him that I wasn’t as crazy as people thought when I was at Gracewood. I wanted to be normal in his eyes once more. I wanted him to accept me and stop thinking of me as a whacko. Getting him to buy into a search for Amistad was my solution, but I’d failed to factor in reality. I nodded at him and for the first time noticed that he looked old and tired. I never thought of him that way. He was adventurous and filled with life. I didn’t realize it then, but his health was on a downslide. Sensing that the job really would be best left to someone else, I agreed. “You’re right, Dad.”
I showed him the rest of the neighborhood after that and then treated him to lunch where we chatted a while longer. Early in the afternoon, I brought him back to the airport and sat with him at the security checkpoint until just before the flight to Vegas began boarding.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“You did a great job with Primera. Beautiful place. Send us a picture of… what’s the name of your next project?”
“Amistad.”
“I like that better than Utopia 2,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Send us a picture of Amistad when you’re finished.”
“I will,” I promised, shaking his hand.
Just as he was about to enter the security checkpoint, he turned. “Ken?”
“Yes?”
“Get yourself a real home. You’re too old to be living in a trailer.”
I have a home, I thought. I just don’t live there anymore.
Chapter 34
A FAVOR
Outside of Primera, few people knew of the little oasis in the desert, but one man obsessed about it: Jose Rodriguez. Unlike his other shells that came and went to suit client needs, Casa Classico was a real business with a long family history that could never be replaced. Unfortunately, he dedicated all of his resources to the Primera contract, and when BRI unexpectedly terminated it, he was left high and dry. Now, less than two months later, it was over. Out of options, he’d filed for bankruptcy. After generations, Casa Classico was forced to close its doors, all because of Primera.
As Jose sat alone at his desk at Casa Classico on May 2, 2014, surrounded by half-filled packing boxes, he gulped tequila from his last bottle of Gran Patrón Burdeos. He wasn’t one to cry, but tears were difficult to hold back on that day as he said goodbye to a business that he’d been a part of since childhood. Rather than give in to grief, however, he turned to something more familiar. “No one fires Casa Classico. No one fires ME!” he shouted, slamming the squat, crystal bottle of expensive tequila on his desk. Anger made him feel strong, in control, and eager for vengeance. At that moment, he knew just what to do. He reached for his phone and dialed a number that he knew by heart.
“Frank, it’s Jose.”
“I’ve been meaning to call you. It killed me to hear about Casa Classico. I know how much that business meant to you.”
“I gave it all I had and then some, but the cards were stacked against me. Listen, I need a favor.”
Frank never knew when to expect Jose’s calls for favors, but when they came, they were always something right up his alley—underhanded, dishonest, deceptive. It wasn’t work to him at all. He actually looked forward to the calls. In the beginning, it was all about squaring things with Jose for everything he’d done for him, but it had gone beyond that long ago. Now, it was about mutual respect. Each man possessed a talent: Jose for money laundering and Frank for bending the truth. Both men lived a lie, and that’s what kept them coming back to each other like old war buddies.
“What kind of favor?
“I’ve got a scoop for you.”
“Ah, I’ve been aching for a scoop. I’m all ears.”
With those words, Jose felt relief. If anyone could set things straight, Frank could. Primera was in for a big surprise, and the best part was—they’d never see it coming.
As Frank listened to Jose, his imagination went wild, and he couldn’t wait to dish out his own form of personal justice for him. It didn’t matter that Jose had destroyed Casa Classico on his own. He was tapped out, both with banks and loan sharks. Despite being surrounded by other people’s money, he barely had a penny to his name, having repeatedly lost it all in reservation casinos. That story had been told a million times. The story that Frank had in min
d would be much more intriguing.
Chapter 35
THE PATSY
Early the next morning, a 2008 Toyota 4Runner slowed to a halt at the end of Shaughnessey Road. A trendily dressed man with perfectly styled blond hair and disarming blue eyes left the 4Runner and strode leisurely toward the bench in front of the pool. Taking a seat, he spread his arms across the top, leaned back and sighed. “Just like fishing,” he said to himself. “Nobody likes a busybody, but they always fall for the lost puppy. Oh, look, here comes a fish now.” A fit-looking Hispanic man approached with a smile the size of Texas. “I’m Carlos. You look lost. Can I help you?”
“Name’s Frank. Frank Stone.” He stood, a good six inches taller than Carlos, and offered his hand. Carlos returned a handshake that oozed sincerity. “Just driving through the foothills. Thought the road might go around the mountain, but I guess not. Then I saw this nice bench. ‘Welcome,’ it says. I couldn’t resist. Beautiful neighborhood you’ve got here.”
“Thanks. It’s called Primera. I helped build it,” Carlos said proudly. “I know everything about it and everyone who lives here. I even live here myself. Right over there.” He turned and pointed to home five.
“Wow, built it and live here. I bet you’ve got some interesting stories to tell.”
“Sure do. Would you like a tour?”
“That’d be fantastic if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.”
Frank loved his work. Get in, get out, write the bullshit story and collect the check. And Carlos was the perfect patsy, giving him the grand tour without him even having to ask. At first, he wasn’t sure of the angle, but as Carlos led the way, the general store became the general storehouse: a year’s supply of food in a crisis. The fitness center: a training ground for elite soldiers. The workshop: an armory where seasoned machinists could build any weapon. And the school? Something would come to him. As the story unfolded in his mind, a smile spread across his face, a smile that Carlos mistook for gratitude.
***
As the details pulled together over the next few days and narrative spilled from his mind into a Word document, Frank couldn’t help but be proud of himself. He swore it was the best piece of “creative” non-fiction that he’d ever written.
Chapter 36
THE APPARITION
With no backup plan to my father finding the land for Amistad, the weight of that job fell squarely upon my shoulders. Dad was right, however. There were plenty of talented people working at BRI, and the completion of Primera left many chomping at the bit for the next phase. One of them, John Miller, called offering to help. It was for that reason that I found myself sitting across a mahogany desk from him in his office at the BRI headquarters in Tempe on May 5, 2014.
“How can I be of service?” John asked, leaning forward on his elbows with his large hands folded in front of himself on his desk.
“I once had a dream—lush meadows high up in the mountains, pine trees, a lake and snow-capped mountains with ski runs in the distance. Many of us at one time dreamed of the very place where Primera now exists. I’m convinced that this dream foretells the location of Amistad. I need some help finding it.”
“I remember dreaming of Primera’s land. I don’t know how these things work, but if you’re dreaming of land for Amistad, that’s good enough for me. Let me put together a team, three or four people tops, and we’ll get right on it.”
“Done,” I said, reaching over the desk to shake his hand, feeling like a child as his enormous hand wrapped around mine. “I can’t wait to see what you turn up.”
“Now, let me get a few more details so I know exactly what I’m looking for.”
We spoke for another fifteen minutes before I left. By the next day, he’d assembled a team with members from Legal, Finance, Facilities and Engineering. They began the search immediately.
Early on May 9, 2014, a gentle knock on my trailer door interrupted me rinsing breakfast dishes. I dried my hands and answered the door.
“John, welcome to my humble home. What brings you here?”
“We found some land. I thought I’d drop by and show it to you in person.”
“That’s fantastic. Come on in and take a seat,” I said, directing him to the dining table. He ducked his head to clear the door and then squeezed his stout frame under the modest table trying without much success to get comfortable.
“Sorry about the tight accommodations.”
“That’s okay. I’m used to it. Not many things fit a man like me, but I am losing weight lately.” He opened his briefcase, took out his laptop and powered it on. “If there’s a property exactly like the one you dreamed about, it isn’t for sale at the moment, but could pop up any day. Most properties we found were too small. We did come up with two interesting ones, however. The first is a gorgeous property north of Eagle Nest, New Mexico. It’s pricey: listed at five point five million.”
“Ouch. Can we really afford something like that?”
“We couldn’t buy it outright; we’d have to finance it. Eagle Nest has a population of two hundred and ninety-three, and Eagle Nest Lake is right next door. It’s shallow and fairly small. There’s a ski resort about twelve miles away at Angel Fire with a jetport that caters only to private aircraft.”
“How many acres is it?”
“Thirty-three hundred.”
“That’s a lot of land. I’ve been through Eagle Nest and Angel Fire before. It’s beautiful, but it was cold when I was there in the middle of the summer and rainy, as well. What else have you got?”
“A ranch north of Chama, New Mexico. One point six million dollars, twelve hundred and twenty-five acres. The west fork of the Upper Brazos River flows through it. It’s well timbered with ponderosa pine, spruce, fir and aspen. The westernmost four hundred acres consists of rolling alpine meadows leading down from the wooded highlands to the river. Take a look at these photos.” He turned his laptop around and pushed it toward me. I opened each image with the touch pad.
It wasn’t my dream, but it did have a certain appeal: snow-capped peaks in the distance, not quite large enough for skiing, dense forests, rolling meadows, but no lake. The river was pristine, however. It meandered through the entire width of the property. “This is absolutely gorgeous. Anything else you can tell me?”
“It’s close to Chama, a town of about twelve hundred, and both Heron Lake and El Vado Lake. Heron is a no-wake lake for fishing only, but you can water ski on El Vado. There are also five ski areas within an hour-and-a-half drive of Chama. I understand that you used to live in Colorado Springs. Chama has a similar climate.”
“It looks very promising. I’ll head up there personally and check it out if you can help with the arrangements.”
“I’m on it. I’ll get hold of the realtor and set everything up.”
***
With the plan in motion, I made a call. “Jessie, you’ve been as quiet as a mouse lately. I thought I'd check in and see how you’re doing.”
“I’ve been really busy. Hey, that sounds familiar.”
“Yeah, I used that line once.”
“I get it now. I love my new job. Thanks for recommending it to me. I didn't realize how stuck I was in finance."
"With all of your personal experience, you’re a perfect fit to help others."
"It's very rewarding making a difference in people's lives. It’s even making me a better person.”
"I like you just fine the way you are—don’t change too much. Hey, I'm going to Chama, New Mexico to look at some land. I was wondering if you’d like to come along."
“That sounds like fun, but I can’t. Since I started this job, I see the challenges faced by changed and unchanged people in relationships every day, and it breaks my heart.”
“That’s a drag. Come with me and I’ll make your heart feel as good as new.”
“I bet you would. I don’t want to rain on your parade, but it was wrong for me to
put you in the position you’re in with your wife. Maybe I can’t fix that, but at least I can get out of the way and give things a chance to right themselves.”
“What are you driving at? It’s not like you to beat around the bush.”
“Okay, if you want it straight—I called Beth.”
“Why?”
“To apologize. I had no business mucking up your marriage. I want to be part of the cure now, not the disease. I’m opening the door for you to return to your wife and family. That means that we can no longer be together.”
Caught by surprise, I felt as though a dagger had pierced my heart. “So, that's it then? We’re finished?”
“Don’t overreact. Let’s just give each other some space for a while and not worry about whether we’re finished or not. There’s a lot at stake, a lot more than just you and me.”
“Maybe our relationship isn’t perfect, but I won’t let you just vanish from my life. Are you and Merry…” It seemed desperate, but there had to be another reason for her sudden change of heart.
“That would be impossible. Merry would lose his license if he got involved with me and that would impact a lot more lives than his own. Nonetheless, I’ve found more satisfaction following a passion with him than I ever have in a relationship.”
My thoughts drifted for a moment to working with Emma in Primera. “I can relate to that.”
“As far as us, everything is going to work out just fine, I promise. There is another relationship that could use some work, however: yours and Beth’s. Have you considered asking her to go with you?” I was speechless. With how things were between us, the thought hadn’t remotely crossed my mind.
“No.”
“Think about it. You might find her more receptive after my conversation with her. And Ken, I’m sorry for what I did. I was only thinking of myself.”