“I forgot all about that, actually,” Skyler said. “I just went out into the side yard from the sliding glass door in my room, walked around to the front driveway, and down to the street. I never heard anything beeping or anything like that. I’m so sorry.”
“Well, damn it all. The cameras aren’t working either.” Georgia slammed her palm against the countertop and turned to face her guests. “We were vulnerable all night!”
“We’re fine, honey,” Brenda said. “There’s no one in the house except us.”
“I’m calling the security company. This is just unbelievable.” Georgia stormed out of the kitchen. They waited until she was some distance away before they spoke.
“She’s becoming unhinged,” Brenda said.
“Understandably. I’d be a mess, too. But I wouldn’t rest until I got to the bottom of it.”
“That’s what we need to help her do.” Brenda pulled out a loaf of sourdough and some butter. “I guess I’m making toast. It’s the least I can do. Plus, I’m starving.”
“Do you think we really need to be involved with this?” Skyler asked in a whisper. “Do we need this monumental headache? Bombs, stalkers, abusive Italians, and God knows what else?”
Brenda’s eyes widened. “We can’t abandon her. She’s our friend now.”
“She’s your friend. I’m supposed to be on vacation, remember?”
“You are horrible. Honestly.”
“You promised me some down time. It’s Christmas, damn it.” Skyler was only half kidding.
“I guess I did promise you down time, and I’m sorry, but who has time for that right now? I have a restaurant to build and you have a new billionaire client on your hands.” Brenda turned and put her hands on her ample hips. “By the way, I am so very excited about that, aren’t you? Foster Martin is major big time, Skyler. Major. Big. Time.”
Skyler poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’m intrigued, yes. But should I really be taking on someone so…so major big time? Someone so important? I mean, I’m going to lose control of this little business very soon if I’m not careful. What with Carissa, and Noah, and you, and all of my other clients, I’m seriously close to being tapped out. I’m supposed to be enjoying the fruits of my labor right about now, not killing myself.”
“You talked about hiring more people. You can certainly justify that. Do that and do it quickly. And, my dear, you need to learn how to delegate.”
“I left the firm to start my own company so that I could be lean and manageable, Brenda. So much for that.”
“I think it’s exciting. Up, up, up! Grow, grow, grow!”
Skyler sighed. “Right now, I just want to be cuddled up under a blanket with Leonard, with no cares in the world and no one else depending on me for anything. I can actually afford to do that for the rest of my life so why wouldn’t I do that?”
“Because it’s not in your nature. You’re never going to be happy being a retired housewife. At least not this early in your life. And Leonard is not going to be happy sitting around doing nothing either. You both need to stay busy. It’s in your collective blood. And I don’t need to tell you any of this. I have confidence in you and your little public relations company.”
“You know what Leonard wants to do after he gets back from Maine, right? I told you about his new master plan?”
“If you did, I don’t remember. Please tell me that he’s not going to run for Congress.”
Skyler made a horrified face. “Honestly. Can you imagine that? No, thank goodness. He’s been toying around with this idea of starting a protection agency for celebrities. Super protection for super V.I.P.s.” When he first mentioned that, they’d been lounging in bed watching a documentary about the Secret Service on television. He knew he was too old to apply for such a position, so he opted to start his own protection service instead. At the time, she’d blown it off as idle talk, but he kept bringing it up and she thought he might actually be serious about the idea.
Brenda set down her knife. “Well, that’s exactly what we need right this very minute. Let’s get Leonard here.”
“He’d be here right this very minute if he wasn’t stuck in Wabanaki. Anyway, there’s a special tactical training course out in Nevada that he wants to take. It’s a very intensive program. Weapons training, defensive driving, surveillance stuff, the works. It’s supposedly the second-best thing to actually going through training at the C.I.A.’s farm just outside of Williamsburg, Virginia.”
“Very interesting. I applaud Leonard for his entrepreneurship. That boy has come a long way in a very short time.” Brenda set a small plate of buttered toast in front of her friend. “And if he does all of that, Leonard will be very busy, so you’ll have no excuses. You’ll have plenty of time to build Skyler Moore Public Relations into the next Edelman or Fleishman-Hillard.”
“Bite your tongue! Yuck.”
“Grow it, then sell it. That’s the logical progression. Then you can fly private the rest of your life.”
Skyler took a bite of toast. “And will you be taking your own advice, Bren, huh? Will you continue to grow your business empire and then sell it off to someone else?”
“Maybe eventually. Why wouldn’t I? I can’t work forever. And I certainly can’t continue to live out of my steamer trunks and cart the dogs back and forth across the country forever. Martha Stewart sold her companies with her name on everything; why can’t I do that?”
“You can. But will you?”
“Someday, maybe. And then I can open a super exclusive inn in Wabanaki and settle down in one place.”
“Maine? All year? Wabanaki in winter?” Skyler was skeptical of that. “No thanks.”
“Well, I’ll need a winter retreat, too, I guess. Maybe a bungalow in Palm Springs? And a private jet to get me back and forth, naturally.”
“Naturally. Isn’t it nice that we only need the little things to make us happy?”
Georgia appeared in the doorway. “Ladies, the security system has been tampered with. I was on the phone with the security monitoring company and they had me describe to them stuff inside the main panel in the master bedroom closet. Half of the wires have been cut. I just can’t get my head around this.”
“Shouldn’t the security company be automatically notified if someone sabotages the inner workings of their system?” Skyler asked.
“Apparently whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing,” Georgia said. “They made it look like everything was fine on the outside, when it was anything but. Every door and window could be blown wide open and no one would know it.”
“What do you want to do right now, honey?” Skyler asked.
“I want to get out of here until the security people arrive and not come back until it’s all fixed.”
Brenda stood up and pushed back her stool. “I’ll go jump in the shower, grab the dogs, and then we can all go down the hill to the hotel. I have a meeting. You can hang out there, or walk the dogs, or go shopping, or do whatever you want to do. We’ll all be safer with hundreds of people around us.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Georgia said. “I’ll go get ready, too. This is good, because I need a few Christmas gifts. I want to get the twins something. I have no idea what to buy them, though. What do you get two thirty-something guys who already own the whole world?”
“Pussy!” Brenda yelled as she was well on her way down the back hall.
“Oh my God,” Skyler said, nearly chocking on her coffee. Georgia started laughing, too, and together, they laughed quite uncontrollably for half a minute.
“I needed that,” Georgia said when she regained her composure. “Brenda is a stitch and a half, isn’t she?”
“The funny thing is, she means it,” Skyler said.
“I had a feeling.” Georgia started toward the hall, then turned around and whispered, “I’ve already had them both. But not at the same time.” And then she was gone.
* * *
Carter and Sullivan stood in the raw
space that was to become Brenda’s restaurant. It was about half complete, but there was still much to be done before furniture and fixtures could be moved in. There were bundles of wires everywhere and the floor was still just bare concrete—it was basically a messy shell at that point, but it would come together quickly. It always did.
Matteo had climbed an impossibly high ladder and was tinkering with some wiring that was attached to the reclaimed wood beams that spanned the room. The twins were watching from below, most uncomfortably; they didn’t have time built into the schedule should the contractor fall to his death.
“Better him than me,” Carter said under his breath.
“You’ve never been a fan of heights.”
At precisely 10 o’clock, Brenda breezed in. She had a dog leash in each hand and a large tote bag flung over her shoulder. She released Mulder and Scully and they immediately got to work sniffing every square inch of the room. When they noticed Matteo high above the room, the dogs started howling, startling the contractor. The ladder shuddered and leaned to one side and both twins threw themselves toward it to keep it from toppling over.
“What have I done?” Brenda exclaimed. “Mulder! Scully! Be quiet.”
Matteo was holding onto a beam. When he got his breathing back under control, he descended the ladder.
“Sorry, buddy,” Sullivan said when the man was back on solid ground.
“If I wasn’t awake from all the coffee I’ve had today,” Matteo said, “I am now.” He turned to the chef. “I’m fine. Welcome to Cornerstone.”
Brenda turned slowly in place, taking in the surroundings. “I’m lucky,” she said. “I can see it in my head. Many people can’t visualize such things.”
“Can’t visualize what?” Carter asked.
“What it’s going to look like when it’s done. I see it all very clearly. The deep purple crushed velvet banquettes, the old oak bar, the conversation pit that we’ll use for folks who are waiting for tables, everything. I see it clear as day, and it’s going to be gorgeous.” She walked up to the contractor and extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Brenda Braxton.”
“Matteo Ferrera,” he said. “It’s an honor to be building this out for you.”
“You flatter me, sir,” she said. “You are the talented one. The designs your firm came up with were spot on. It’s exactly what I had in mind from the very beginning. I just know that it’s going to be very complimentary to the Lowerys’ vision for the hotel.”
“I’m delighted that you’re so pleased. I hope we can get it all done on time.”
“That’s not really an option,” Carter said flatly. “It can be done on time. And it must.”
Sullivan placed a hand on his brother’s back. “What my brother means is that we’re sure that you’ll do your very best to get things done for us on time.”
Carter pulled away. “Your very best is all we want. I’m going to go check on the crew working in the lobby.” And he was gone.
“We’ve got a lot of pressure being applied on us by our partners,” Sullivan explained. “But we’ll be fine.”
Brenda had moved over to a drafting table and was pursuing the blueprints. “I’m not sure I like the placement of the reception desk. It’s built-in, yes?”
“Yes. But changes will push things back,” Matteo said.
“No changes, Brenda,” Sullivan said. “It’s all going to work.”
Brenda let out a little sigh. “If you say so. So, what am I doing here?”
Sullivan and Matteo exchanged looks. Sullivan managed a smile. “As a partner, we wanted you to see where we are on everything. And the lighting designer will be here momentarily. If it makes you feel better, we have some flexibility regarding the fixtures.”
“Cool.” She started toward the back of the room. “I’m going to go see the kitchen.” The dogs dutifully followed her out of the room.
“She’s a tough cookie,” Matteo said.
“She didn’t get to where she is by being a shrinking violet. You have no idea how excited we are to be in partnership with her. She’s going to help put this place on the map and she’ll bring some fresh blood to Santa Fe’s restaurant scene.”
“What? No green chili smothered on everything?”
“Hardly. Brenda is very innovative. And I’m sure she’ll bring some authentic Maine to the desert.”
“Green chili smothered lobster,” Matteo said. “Yum!”
* * *
Less than a block away, Skyler and Georgia browsed through a catch-all shop called, Marker’s, a purveyor of Santa Fe-inspired gifts, trinkets, one-of-a-kind pieces of art, books by local authors, and handmade greeting cards. It was busy, but so quiet Skyler felt uneasy. As she examined an artificial tree covered with coyote-themed Christmas ornaments, she thought that music would liven up the joint; it was a little too much like a library inside.
When the book she had tucked under her left arm fell to the floor and she leaned over to retrieve it, she backed into a middle-aged man.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“My apologies,” the man said. He got to the book first and handed it back to Skyler. He smiled at her like he was looking at an old friend.
“Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am,” he said sheepishly, “but I know who you are. At least, I know that you are a friend of Georgia Reece. I saw you two walk in together.”
“Oh, do you know Georgia?”
“I’ve done work at her house.”
“Well, then you’re just the person we needed to run in to today.” Skyler turned and spotted Georgia across the room and waved her over.
“Diego!” Georgia said as she approached. “It is so good to see you again.”
“And you, madam.”
Georgia closed her eyes for a moment. “No, no. Madam won’t do. Please call me Georgia.”
“Georgia,” he repeated back to her.
“I’m glad you are here,” the opera singer said. “I misplaced your business card and I find that I am in need of your services again. We had a small fire at the house the other evening.”
“My goodness, that’s horrible,” Diego said. “And I did hear about that, of course. It was on the news. I hope no one was hurt.”
“Luckily, no. But I have a front hall wall and ceiling that are quite singed. Perhaps you could come patch it up and repaint it for me sometime this week?”
“It would be my pleasure. I could take a look at it today, if you want, and do the repairs tomorrow. I don’t have a lot of work this time of year, thanks to my brother.”
“That would be lovely,” Georgia said. “Any time after three would be great. I’ll be there.”
“And then so will I,” Diego said in a most gallant sounding voice. He tipped an imaginary hat to both ladies and then slipped out of the shop.
“What a strange little man,” Skyler said. “But capable, I’m sure.” She smiled at her friend. Skyler worried sometimes about what she said when she thought aloud; it was a bad habit. She hoped she hadn’t offended her.
“It turns out that he’s a big fan of opera and of me. His brother-in-law is the Santa Fe police officer who responded when my house was first broken into. That was who recommended Diego in the first place. And, I have come to find out, that Diego’s brother Matteo is Carter and Sullivan’s contractor. They apparently had a falling out, so Diego isn’t working on the hotel project.”
“Santa Fe is a small town, huh?”
“Just as long as my house gets fixed and the security system is back up and running, I’ll be happy.”
They walked to the sales counter and placed their selections in front of a young woman with a shock of violet hair. Skyler put an arm around Georgia’s back. “And the new security team from New York. Don’t forget about them.”
“I’m counting the minutes,” Georgia said as she instinctively scanned the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Back at Georgia’s, Skyler busied herself with email correspondence while sitting
in front of the fireplace in the living room. Amongst scores of business emails, a single message stood out. It was from Leonard, and she loved it for its simplicity and direct-to-the-pointness:
Dec 18 @ 11:45am EST
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Stuff
Sky,
Miss you. Love you.
--LL
Acting Sheriff Leonard Little
Wabanaki Police Department
12 Main Street, Suite P
Wabanaki, Maine 03999
Main: 207-555-4679
Cell: 207-555-1046
She felt her heart thump as she jotted off an equally short reply:
Dec 18 @ 2:46pm MST
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Stuff
Me, more. Counting the days.
—Skyler
Skyler Moore Public Relations, LLC
Washington, DC and Worldwide
www.SkylerMoorePR.com
Main: 888-555-1301
Cell/Text: 202-555-1733
At three o’clock, the doorbell rang and Georgia let a distinguished looking couple into the foyer. Georgia didn’t introduce herself and instead immediately gestured toward the bomb-damaged wall.
“This is one very important reason why you are both here,” she said.
John Sparks was an imposing, thick, but not in the least bit fat, man with an impossibly thick head of platinum grey hair. He placed his bags on the floor and closed the front door. “And we will make sure that this never, ever happens again, ma’am.” He extended his hand. “John Sparks. And this is my wife Anna Jannis.”
Anna was clearly her husband’s equal. She, too, was on the stocky side, most likely from spending much time in the gym lifting weights. Her military-short hair was dark brown and looked like it’d been styled with an electric clipper.
Skyler surveyed the couple from a distance. She could tell that these folks meant business.
The New Mexico Scoundrel Page 10
