by M. S. Parker
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“The dining area is in here,” Blair said, gesturing to our right.
It was definitely an area and not a room. The table could easily fit more than a dozen people, though at this moment it was only set for three. I moved to the far seat and waited until my parents joined me before looking at them expectantly. Instead of answering me, however, Kevin opened a bottle of wine and filled all three of the wine glasses.
“A toast.” He held his glass up high. “To a bright and glorious future. May we all reach our maximum potential and make this world a better place.”
I only took a sip of the tart beverage. I generally preferred beer, but my parents always liked to toast with wine.
“We bought it,” Blair announced.
“Bought what?” I was pretty sure I knew what she meant, but I’d learned to not assume. Blair and Kevin didn’t always follow the most logical progressions and making them spell things out was a good way to avoid misunderstandings.
“The ranch.” She beamed. “Kevin and I have decided that we want to settle down.”
I stared at her. That couldn’t mean what I thought it meant. “‘Settle down’?” I echoed.
“We’re not young anymore,” Kevin said, and for the first time, I noticed the lines that had grown deeper around his eyes.
I often forgot how much older he was than Blair. He was forty when I was born while Blair had been only nineteen. My grandparents were only four and five years older than him. One of the many reasons they hadn’t approved of the relationship.
“I’m just surprised,” I said, gripping the glass in my hands. “I know how much you love to travel, but even if I’d pictured you guys buying a place, I never would’ve thought it’d be here. You’re both so social. I would’ve thought you’d go back to one of the communes you liked.”
“We thought about it,” Kevin said, “but in the end, we decided that we wanted to be closer to you.”
Blair reached over and put her hand over mine. “We’ve missed you.”
I smiled, a rush of warmth washing over me. “I’ve missed you guys too.”
It was the truth. I was used to them being absent, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want them to be around more.
We ate in silence for a few minutes before I asked one of the many questions that had been bouncing around in my head since I’d gotten my mother’s text. “Not that I don’t think the place is gorgeous, but I must ask, why here? There are plenty of houses in Rawlins you could have bought.”
“That’s the other part of what we wanted to talk to you about,” Kevin said, exchanging a look with Blair. “You know we’ve never liked the idea of retirement, so this isn’t only going to be our home. We’ve converted it into a retreat.”
Blair picked up the explanation, excitement lighting up her face. “It’s going to be amazing. We both saw so many people in the corporate world and in those high social circles completely burn themselves out trying to do everything at once. Think of how much better it would be if they had somewhere they could go to relax.”
“We’re going to offer all organic meals,” Kevin continued, “with options for vegans or specialty diets. We’ll have organic facials, wraps, mud treatments, hot stone massages.”
My parents were opening a…spa?
Blair took over again. “Of course, all of these will be amenities offered, but if guests simply want time and space away from the hustle and bustle of the world, that’s an option as well. We have rooms here in the main house, but there are some wonderful cabins we’ll be renovating as well.”
Cabins? It took me a minute to realize they meant the quarters where ranch hands would normally have lived. They would be easy enough to convert into more traditional cabins, I supposed.
“Blair and I will be offering seminars on simplifying one’s life, living holistically, the benefits of rejecting societal constraints.”
“Nothing will be required, of course,” Blair said. “Guests will be encouraged to commune with nature and find their own life’s path wherever it may take them.”
“That’s great,” I said sincerely. I was happy for them and glad that they were going to be living nearby, but now I was also a little relieved that they hadn’t decided to put the retreat in Rawlins itself. I had a feeling I’d be coaxed into becoming a part of the retreat if I was too close.
“You haven’t even heard the best part yet,” Blair said. “We converted the front parlor into a shop for you and turned the room behind it into a bedroom suite.” She clapped her hands together. “So, it’ll be just like your place now.”
Oh.
“That’s a great offer.” I chose my words carefully. “But I like my apartment and my shop in town. I do most of my business online, but I do have regulars who probably might not feel comfortable coming out to a retreat to buy things. Plus, I own the building, and I’m not sure I’d be able to find someone to buy or rent it.”
It was all true, but I didn’t give them the underlying reason why I didn’t want to drop everything and move my store out here. With the singular exception of the time we’d lived here before, my parents had never stuck to anything for more than a few months. It wasn’t only the appeal of traveling that had kept them on the move all these years. Short things like hiking the Grand Canyon or meeting indigenous tribes in South America, those generally got done, but when it came to anything that was a longer commitment, they simply didn’t have the staying power.
Once, when I was around fifteen, they’d decided they wanted to live off the land in northern Canada. We spent more time getting to the cabin they’d rented than we did actually living there. When I was eight, they became involved with an organization that fought for land preservation. It was a great cause, but after a couple months of nothing more than a handful of single-day protests, they decided their time and energy was better spent with a group trying to save the rainforests. They always meant well, and they were always sincere in their passions.
But they had the attention spans of toddlers most of the time.
If I moved my shop here, I might make decent sales for a while, but once they got bored, I’d end up having to move right back into Rawlins, and I’d most likely lose the base I’d carefully built up over the last two years.
“It’s open to negotiation,” Kevin said with a smile. “Maybe we can come to a compromise. We really would love for you to be a part of this.”
I took another sip of my wine. When my father said things like that, I remembered he hadn’t always been the man I knew. Most of the time, I forgot that he’d been a businessman for years before he and Blair met. He came from old New York City money and had been groomed to take over the family business. I wasn’t sure what that business had been since he didn’t have it anymore.
He’d gotten an MBA, married a woman from the right family, and then after his parents died, took over the company entirely. Then, when he was thirty-four, something happened, and he’d decided that wasn’t the life he wanted. He’d sold all his shares in the company, gave his wife a generous settlement in exchange for an uncontested divorce – which she was more than happy to do – and then walked away from all of it. He still had plenty of money, which was how we’d been able to travel so much, but he’d never deliberately flaunted it.
“What would you think about having a shop here that’s open once or twice a week?” Blair asked, her brows raised in hopeful expectation. “The room in the back can be yours whenever you come out to visit, and you can set the store hours however you want. If you need some help to hire someone for your shop in town, we’re more than happy to do it.”
“I can handle hiring someone part-time,” I said.
I’d never been busy enough to consider it before, but I could get someone to take care of things two days a week while I came out here, especially since it wouldn’t be permanent. If I wasn’t making anything out here, I could close the store without my parents feeling like I didn’t want to work with t
hem, and if it did well, then I’d stay until they got bored and left again. If they got through more than six months, I’d consider it a miracle.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Blair asked.
I smiled at her. “It does. We can work through scheduling when I bring in some inventory. Does that sound good?”
“It sounds wonderful,” Blair said. “Now, let me go get the dessert I made. It’s something new. Kale chips and fruit dip.”
As she walked away, I made a mental note to suggest that they hire a cook to feed guests. Health food, junk food, organic or not, it wouldn’t matter. Blair only knew how to make two or three meals, and everything else was an experiment that usually failed. Kevin knew enough that he didn’t go hungry, but for large groups of people, a cook would be best.
A glance at Kevin told me he was thinking the same thing. At least we were one hundred percent on the same page when it came to that.
Five
Blake
As much as I may have looked like the sort of guy who liked to live off the grid, I liked my electronics. Mostly because they meant I could usually have supplies delivered to me rather than going into Rawlins for them. It was a nice enough town, but still…people.
I’d put it off for as long as possible, but now I had things that I could only get in town. Or, at least, things that I preferred to get from local sources. I wasn’t so much of an antisocial bastard that I wouldn’t support locals, even if they didn’t deliver.
When it came to lumber, there was only one place to go here. McPherson’s. Wyatt McPherson was from one of the founding families of Rawlins, and in some places, I knew that would’ve meant he could pretty much do what he wanted. Hell, my family hadn’t been one of Boston’s founding families, but we’d had enough money that my brothers and I had gotten away with more than we should have. Wyatt wasn’t like that though. He and his huge family were as down to earth as anyone.
If I liked people, I would’ve liked them.
I pulled my truck up to the loading dock and saw that Wyatt already had my order stacked and ready to go. By the time I was up on the dock, Wyatt and his two oldest kids – Lucinda and Scott – were waiting.
“Good morning, Blake.” His voice was as gruff as ever, but he was smiling.
“Morning, Wyatt.”
We’d both come to an unspoken agreement when we’d first met that we’d be on a first-name basis even though he was probably close to Grandfather’s age.
“Lucinda. Scott.” I nodded at them, and they nodded back.
“Let’s get him loaded up,” Wyatt said. As his kids moved to do just that, Wyatt turned to me. “Mind if I ask what all that’s for?”
I stuck my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing a couple two-by-fours. I’d done that the first time I’d ordered from McPherson’s, only to have Wyatt reprimand me. I’d thought it was some bullshit about customers not getting their hands dirty, but then he’d explained to me that his business insurance would have a fit if a customer got hurt. I didn’t like standing around while other people did work, but I understood respecting a person’s business.
“I got a customer who wants me to build him a rowboat.”
Wyatt gave me a sideways look and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes.
“I thought you quit,” I said as he lit one.
“I thought people usually bought their boats already made,” he countered.
I shrugged. “This guy wants it to look like he built it himself for his girlfriend. Supposed to be some sort of romantic gesture to his girl.”
Wyatt snorted, then took a drag on his cigarette. “Damn fools.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered.
“Still don’t have a girl, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going out with your granddaughter.”
He snorted again. “You think you’re too good for my family?”
“I think your granddaughter is eighteen, and I’m twenty-eight.”
“Dad are you trying to set Jessie up with someone a decade older than her?” Scott asked. “I thought we talked about this.”
“You’d rather she gets serious with that college boy she brought home for Christmas? Damn city boy.”
It was Scott’s turn to roll his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Wyatt wasn’t really trying to set me up with Jessie. It was just our thing. How we passed the time while the truck was loaded so I didn’t feel guilty for not helping.
“You’re just making a rowboat?” Wyatt asked. “Damn big boat.”
I barked a laugh. “Yeah, well, this guy doesn’t want some SS Minnow. He’s got it in his head that if he has this fancy boat, she’s going to accept his proposal.”
“Women don’t care about that,” Wyatt said. “Well, they might care, but it won’t change the answer. Ask ‘em simple or ask ‘em expensive, if they’re going to say yes, that’s what it’ll be, no matter the where or how.”
Now it was my turn to give him a sideways look. That was the most I’d heard him say at one go. “You trying to give me dating advice?”
“I’m just saying that when I asked my Nancy, I just asked her. Didn’t need a fancy ring or anything like that.”
“The way Mom tells it,” Lucinda said, “you didn’t actually ask her at all. You basically told her you two were getting married.”
Wyatt shrugged and took another drag on his cigarette. “Point is, she still said yes. And we’ve been married forty-seven years.”
Forty-seven years.
I couldn’t imagine being with someone that long. Grandfather and Grandma Olive had made it that far. Mom and Dad probably would have too if…
Nope.
Not going there.
“All set,” Scott said, dusting off his hands.
“Thanks.” I shook hands all around this time, then reached into my pocket and pulled out several folded bills. I handed them over and then headed back to my truck.
I had non-perishables delivered, but when I wanted fresh produce, I went to The Peach and Plum Market. It wasn’t really the season for anything fresh, but I’d rather get it here than somewhere else. The only drawback was the usual cashier had a thing for me and hadn’t accepted that I wasn’t interested.
I picked up a basket and went straight for what I needed. A couple apples, pears, carrots, a few other things here and there. The place wasn’t busy for a Friday afternoon, but I still avoided eye contact with anyone who happened to walk by. Most people in Rawlins knew who I was – well, the reclusive blacksmith part of me anyway – but if I looked at anyone, they’d still try to talk to me. Best to keep moving.
“Hi, Blake.”
“Morning,” I mumbled. I didn’t look up from the things I was putting on the conveyer belt.
“Trish,” she said in that same bubbly voice. “It’s Trish.”
I grunted. If I said I remembered her, she’d read too much into it. If I said I didn’t, she’d be upset. Better a noncommittal response.
“I think it’s going to snow again,” she continued. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? That it’s almost spring and it’s still snowing. I can’t wait until I get out of here and go somewhere that is warm all the time. Nashville is my first choice. I’m going to be a singer.”
She paused, and I knew if I looked up, I’d see an expectant light in those blue eyes. It was the same one I always saw when I came here. She was bound and determined to get my attention.
Which meant I had to ignore her.
I used my card while she packed up my food, then left without looking at her once. Trish was a pretty enough woman, but I wasn’t going there. Aside from the fact that I had a feeling she’d be clingy, she wasn’t discreet. I didn’t need the whole damn town in my personal life.
I set my groceries in the passenger’s seat and then leaned back against my truck. Trish was probably right about the snow. I could feel it in the air. It shouldn’t be a storm, but I didn’t want to risk running out of anything, so I took a minute to think over everyth
ing I had to pick up, as well as what I had at home.
I wasn’t really looking anywhere specific when I was thinking, but then a flash of something caught my eye. I’d seen the shop before, I knew. I had to have seen it since it was right across from the barber where I get my hair cut, but somehow it had never really registered in my mind. Then my brain processed the name: Grow ‘n Heal.
Now I remembered. A couple years ago, some of the men had been talking about it when I’d been getting a haircut. According to Palmer Griffith who owned a cattle ranch on the other side of town, when he’d first seen the young woman moving in, he’d thought she was opening a nursery – a plant nursery – because she’d had all sorts of plants in pots, but no cut flowers. But when Palmer and his wife Cleo had gone over to see what the new shop had to offer, they saw it was a little…different.
Potted plants, sure, but most of them weren’t the normal sorts of flowers. There were some lilies, roses, tulips, that sort of thing, but most of the plants were ones they didn’t recognize. And then they’d seen that plants weren’t all that was being sold.
Teas. Potpourri. Decorative dried arrangements. And a whole section of what Palmer called ‘New Age crap.’ Herbal remedies, supplements, that sort of thing.
I got the point of vitamins in general, but I thought people put far too much faith in them. I didn’t believe a person could go pick a weed, eat it, and suddenly their memory would improve. Tea was for drinking, and maybe it’d help with a sore throat, but that was the extent of its ‘medicinal powers.’
“New Age fluff,” I said with a sigh. I pushed myself off the truck, shaking my head. The things people would believe.
That glint of light came again, and this time, I recognized it as the sunlight reflecting off the chain holding up the open / closed sign. Someone was flipping it over to say it was closed. I caught a glimpse of a flowered skirt, but nothing else. I supposed it was the young woman who owned the place. I didn’t know if I’d ever seen her before, or if I’d even heard her name, but I didn’t really care.