by Kate Sweeney
The Best Things in Life
Kate Sweeney
The Best Things in Life
© 2019 by Kate Sweeney
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN 13: 978-1-935216-92-6
First Ebook Edition: 2019
This Ebook Is Published By
Intaglio Publications
Walker, LA USA
www.intagliopub.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Credits
Executive Editor: Tara Young
Cover design by Tiger Graphics
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to the usual suspects. My editor, Tara Young, all the readers—you’re the best—my family and friends. I couldn’t do much without you.
I am truly blessed!
Prologue
She remembered how she used to say her nightly prayers as a child—kneeling by the bed, appearing angelic. Now in that same position, she only hoped she could stand again. With a deep groan, she got on all fours to look under the bed. Once she located the box, she reached under the bed, eternally grateful she didn’t need the broom, which she had forgotten. She then made a mental note to vacuum.
She snagged the small box and placed it on her bed. Slowly, she stood and stretched her back.
“What an ordeal,” she said painfully.
Sitting on the bed, she gently blew the layers of dust off the box, releasing the flood of memories.
That summer long, long ago. The hot days and warm nights. The sun making the lake look like a million tiny diamonds sparkling on its surface. And her first thought of love, sitting on the quilt, watching the old movies at the lodge, eating popcorn and hot dogs, drinking Cokes out of glass bottles. What a wonderful time it was to be alive.
Not able to stop the grin that spread across her face, she opened the box, filled with the letters and Christmas cards she had collected over the years. Then she saw the one card she wanted. It was the first Christmas card she received.
When she came to the end, tears welled in her eyes.
Remember the song from that old movie we watched? I love the last line—And love can come to everyone. The best things in life are free.
She reverently ran her fingertips over the card. “This is no coincidence. It can’t be. There is a reason for this.”
Then with a confident nod, she placed the letter and the card back among her memories and closed the box. She thought for a moment; this time, she gently kicked the box back under the bed.
She dusted off her hands and started her plan. She knew she was right—she had to be right.
She was right…Right? She fought the wave of uncertainty and started out of the bedroom, then stopped for a moment.
“Nope. I’m right. I’m doing this.”
She squared her shoulders and proceeded onward to probably the most ridiculous thing she’d ever done—depending on who you to talked to.
Chapter 1
“No.” Cara Pembroke folded her arms across her chest in a defiant gesture.
Linda Adams let out an exasperated sigh and sat. “Why not? It’ll be a good human-interest story. This guy put his own life on the line for a stranger. Who does that?”
“Plenty of people. Firefighters, police officers, first responders. But they never get the headlines. Only the corrupt politicians who cheat and lie for political power.”
“You’re making my point,” Linda said. “This is a chance to show some human compassion.”
“Let Pat do it. He’s the touchy-feely reporter.”
Linda shook her head. “Wife is expecting another child any minute. I think they have too much touchy-feely.”
“Oh, babies are born every day.”
“So much for human compassion.”
Cara laughed. “Okay, okay. But I don’t want to go to Minnesota. It’s October. It’s freezing in Minnesota. It’s probably snowing.” Cara tossed her pen on the desk, running her fingers through her hair, which made it even worse.
Linda bit off a laugh, thinking how her old friend looked like a rooster. “We have weeks until the snow flies. And it’s not freezing, not yet. You’ll be on a plane.”
Cara’s green eyes blinked rapidly. “Not for the entire time, I won’t,” she assured her and shuffled the papers on her desk. “Look, I haven’t had a vacation in two years. My New Year’s Eve was ruined, if you remember. The Chicago Sentinel owes me one.”
“Take it in Kabetogama,” Linda offered happily.
Cara looked closer as she leaned forward. “Are you having some sort of seizure?”
“Kab-et-o-gama, Min-ne-so-ta,” Linda said slowly, desperately trying not to laugh. “Just like it’s spelled. Although, I bet you’ll get a different pronunciation from the locals. Like the tomato, tomahto thing.”
“Listen to yourself. Kabetogama? In what part of Minnesota is Kabetogama?”
“Um…” Linda winced. “In the boundary waters?”
Cara looked confused. “Boundary waters? What boundary?”
“America and Canada, you dope.”
“Oh,” Cara said. “Right. There is just a place? It sounds like a bad joke.”
“Not to the Kabetogamians.”
“Are you serious?”
“Kabetogamites?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re used to a big city, but you only have to stay there for a week or so. Besides, you’ve always wanted to write that book. This might be a good topic.”
“That’s true.” Cara sighed. “And this guy wants this?”
“Well, that I’m not sure of. I’ve only spoken with his mother, Betty. And from our discussions, I want her to adopt me.”
“Then you go.”
Linda laughed, rocking in her chair. “Don’t be an old sourpuss. Now from what Betty said, she thinks it’s a good idea for Morgan Gavin to come here, but she wanted to know something about us, so it was her suggestion to get to know the reporter. And it was my idea for the human-interest article, which she eagerly agreed to. Once you get a good feel of Morgan and a good story about his life, then you bring him here, and the mayor’s office will take over from there. I think they’re planning to give the guy the key to the city and show him off for a few days. You know, show him Navy Pier, the museums. Take him to the symphony and swanky nightclubs and show off the lakefront before it snows.”
Cara grunted rudely. “Of course, the mayoral election coming up in November has absolutely nothing to do with this.”
“Absolutely,” Linda said with a small laugh and was grateful Cara laughed along.
“It’ll be like throwing him to the wolves,” Cara said seriously. “I pity the poor bastard.” She looked at Linda then. “I was thinking of a vacation along the lines of Cabo. Or maybe Paris.”
“Oh, quit with the big cities. You’re becoming a snob. Besides, this could be a big story for you,” Linda enticed eagerly.
Cara gave her a skeptical glare. “Oh, please. I know what the assignment is. Some man who lives deep in the Minnesota-Canadian wilderness saves two Chicago women on vacation from Bigfoot.”
“That’s not what happened. First, they were not on vacation from Bigfoot.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Those two women on a canoe tri
p didn’t stay where they were supposed to, wandered off into the woods, and got lost. If this man hadn’t come along, they could have died of hypothermia. One of them fell off the edge of some small cliff, and Mr. Gavin got injured in the process and has been convalescing for the past two weeks.”
“And our mayor wants to thank this guy personally.”
Linda nodded. “He invited him to stay in Chicago for a long weekend at the Drake Hotel after your assignment. And from what I understand, this guy hasn’t been out of the wilderness for a while. The mayor ‘suggested’ that since one of the vacationers this guy saved was an employee of the Sentinel, they should send someone to escort him to the Windy City.”
“And that’s me.”
“Yes. See? You get it.” Linda smiled hopefully. “Right?”
“Who is the employee of ours?” Cara asked, tapping her pen on the desk. She glanced at a bottle of Pepsi.
Linda slowly reached over and pushed it out of her reach.
Cara glared at her. “I’m trying.”
Linda took the soda bottle and dropped it in the wastebasket. “I’m making sure you succeed,” she countered evenly. “And the employee is Marcie Brooks.”
Cara raised an eyebrow. “Marcie in accounting? You know Marcie and I had a relationship.”
Linda waved her off. “That was not a relationship. It was a train wreck. If any two people did not belong together, it was you two. Marcie is all about nature. You’re all about downtown. I knew the minute I saw you together. You need a city gal. Anyway, she was vacationing with a friend when this happened. Now I’d like you to get on a plane and bring this…” She stopped and put on her glasses as she scanned the pages in her lap. “Morgan Gavin, age forty-eight. Doesn’t say what he does for a living. Hmm.” She looked up over her glasses. “You leave tomorrow morning, and you can take the company plane.”
“We have a plane?”
“Well, of sorts. We can have it for the morning. It has to be back at O’Hare by the afternoon.”
“Is it safe?”
Linda laughed. “Yes, you idiot. It has a propeller and everything.”
“Linda…”
“It’s like a small business jet.”
“Whose it is?”
“A friend of Mike’s.”
“Your husband is a sports writer. Who does he know?”
“None of your business. He owes Mike a favor.”
“Must be a whopper.”
“Super Bowl tickets. That’s all I’m saying. So you leave tomorrow morning, stay for ten days. Get to know the Gavin family and write a great story. Then gather Mr. Gavin and bring him back here in one piece, and off you go to whatever big city you like for a whole week.”
Cara glared at her. “You knew all along I was going, didn’t you?”
Linda nodded happily and slid an envelope toward her. “A little mad money. And use the company card for anything else. Remember you’re representing the Chicago Sentinel. We may not be as big as the Trib or the Sun-Times or any other publication for that matter, but we still sell newspapers. Thank God for online sales and the residents of the Chicago metropolitan area.”
“How did the mother know to call you?” Cara slipped the envelope in her purse.
“Marcie spoke with her while she was waiting for her friend. She mentioned she worked here, so I think that set things in motion for my new best friend, Betty.”
Cara laughed. “Why not send Marcie?”
“Oh, no. The powers that be—”
“The owner?”
“Yep. Doug wants a reporter to go, not someone from accounting. Besides, Marcie is a blabbermouth. She talks too much, and I don’t want her knowing anything about this until Mr. Gavin comes to town.”
“Sounds like a Frank Capra movie.” Cara folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to do this.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m going to put it in writing.”
“As is your right.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Cara narrowed her eyes. “Why aren’t you arguing?”
“Why bother? You can put it in writing. Although Doug won’t be back until Friday.”
Cara pinched the bridge of her nose. “So it doesn’t make a difference.”
“Nope.”
Cara took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. I despise you.”
“I love you, too. Have a nice flight and have a relaxing visit through the boundary waters. It’ll be good for you. Wear your water wings just in case you run out of land.”
Chapter 2
Cara stared in her closet. She had no idea what to take on this nightmare trip. It was mid-October, still warm, but who knew what was happening in Kabetogama—it really bothered her she was pronouncing the name so easily. Hopefully, this next week or so would pass quickly. Then she could bring him back here. It would be the mayor’s headache then, and she would head for someplace warm for a week of being pampered, fine dining, the opera. Cara couldn’t wait.
She took a few sweaters, jeans…all the clothes she wore in the winter—when she was alone in her apartment, usually eating something fattening. She neatly packed her warm clothes, tossing in a couple of pairs of shorts just in case.
“Shoes…” she said, looking at her shoe bag that hung on the wall. Mostly heels of expensive leather. She dug out the sneakers she had and an old pair of hiking boots. She blew the dust off them, which showed how long it’d been since she’d worn them. She bought them when she dated Marcie, who was an outdoor freak. She could blame Marcie for the boots and for this mess.
Opting to wear a business-like pantsuit and heels for the next day, she would at least look like a reporter. Besides, there had to be a nice restaurant somewhere up there.
Cara took the smaller suitcase to the bathroom. The counter was crowded; she realized how much time she spent on her personal hygiene. Moisturizers, lotions…
“I can’t decide.” She swiped most of it into the zipper compartment, which barely zipped.
She rolled her luggage to the door and tossed the smaller bag next to it, then dusted off her hands.
“If this is not enough, I’m sure I can buy a deer or moose hide or something.”
Cara looked out her window at the Chicago skyline, remembering how lucky she was to find this apartment for rent. On the fifth floor, it gave her a great view of Chicago and Lake Michigan. She had lived in a smaller one-bedroom on the second floor of an old brownstone. It was affordable, if not tiny; she longed for a place like this. And once she saved enough and got a raise, she found this apartment, which was spacious and…Cara looked around. She refused to acknowledge the word “lonely.”
Lost in her musings, she didn’t hear the ring of the doorbell until it became incessant.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she said with a grin; pulling Kim inside, she closed the door.
“Lost in your thoughts again?” Kim asked as she pulled Cara into her arms. “Thinking about me?” She placed a quick kiss against her lips.
“Of course I was,” she said and pulled back.
Kim looked into her eyes; she took off her blazer, neatly laying it on the back of the chair. “Hmm. Not sure if I believe you, but no matter. Now tomorrow night. Don’t forget we have tickets to Orchestra Hall, eight sharp. We’ll have a bite to eat before. I’ll need to get my review to the paper by morning for the weekend reviews.”
Cara winced apologetically. “Well…”
Kim frowned deeply. “Do not tell me you’re not going.”
“I wish I could.” She then told Kim what her assignment was.
Kim listened to her explanation; she seemed confused.
“Do you understand?” Cara asked cautiously.
“Kabetowhat?”
Cara laughed. “Kabetogama, Minnesota or Canada. Some boundary water place.”
“Never heard of it.”
“I don’t think anyone has. I have a feeling it’s as far a
way as the name is long. How about a drink?”
“Chardonnay if you have it.”
Cara opened the bottle while watching Kim, who absently leafed through a political magazine on the coffee table. After chuckling softly, she replaced it on the table.
Cara retrieved two wineglasses from the overhead rack. “Are you hungry?”
“What? Oh, no. I-I had a late lunch.” Kim took the glass of wine.
Cara sat next to her on the couch.
“A week, huh? I’m glad your hero is not a heroine. I’d be jealous.”
“Would you?”
Kim thought for a moment while sipping her wine. Cara noticed she took too long to respond.
“Sure I would.”
Cara raised an eyebrow. “It’s a good thing then. I wouldn’t want you to show some emotion.”
“I show my emotions.” She wriggled her eyebrows.
“Sex is not an emotion.”
“Let’s not quibble over semantics.”
Cara watched her. “Just what did you study in college?”
Kim drank her wine and laughed. “Sex was my major.”
“That I can believe. Change of topic.”
“Good. You know, you should come to work for the Sun-Times, instead of that left-wing, mom-and-pop newsletter,” Kim said.
“I like mom and pop. And I like left wing. And it’s not a newsletter. If somebody doesn’t stand up for the little guy, who will? Especially now.”
“That’s my little liberal.”
Cara sipped her wine, bristling at the derisive tone in Kim’s voice. “And that means?”
“Nothing. Don’t get defensive. I think it’s adorable that you’re a socialist.”
Cara searched her face; she disliked the dismissive tone. “Someday, you’ll understand what a socialist is. And what are you?”
“I’m of no political bent. I like to keep my options open and get the lay of the land.”
“Any way the wind blows?” Cara asked.
Kim looked at her. “I review plays. It’s what I like to do. I’m not political. Things are going to be what they are. What’s the point of fighting it?”
“That’s how fascism starts.” Cara ignored the familiar groan. “You remember the world had that big argument in the thirties and forties?”