Sedona Sunset

by Tanya Stowe

  “Balderdash. You’re a dutiful daughter. You’ve been told to appreciate it so you’re making every effort.”

  The truth in his words pierced Lara like an arrow. She was here for the opening out of respect and duty. What would come after was more important to her. Everything she was and could be was tied up in the next few weeks. All she wanted was to get this event over with and go on with her life.

  “By the way,” he continued. “Where is your overlord of a father? Why did he send you off to face this alone?”

  Lara stumbled for words. “He’s in England. The courts released a very large estate with some incredible antiques. My father had to take possession of it.”

  “I know all about the release of the Elder estate, and it didn’t require your father’s presence. That’s what he pays his employees to do. It was just an excuse to stay away. He couldn’t face coming here.” Townsend’s acerbic tone softened slightly. “Though I suppose I don’t blame him. This brings back far too many memories.”

  Sedona had been her mother’s favorite place and they’d spent many winters here, holding great entertainments and outings for their friends, including Rupert Townsend.

  He cleared his throat. “But it’s a shame your father left you to face this by yourself. And you can tell him I said so.”

  A numb little laugh escaped Lara. “I’m sure I’ll say it just like that.”

  Townsend laughed as well. “What’s the matter, little girl…not used to plain talk in the Fallon household?”

  Lara gave a slight shake of her head. “Not much is said contrary to what my father likes to hear.”

  “Good girl,” he said with a wink. “I knew you didn’t buy it.”

  “It?”

  “The Fallon mystique. The concept that Daniel Fallon is infallible and therefore incontestable. I suspected you had a bit of the rebel in you.”

  “I’m afraid you just heard the extent of my rebelliousness. And I’m a little startled I let that slip out.”

  Townsend glanced at Bertoleo, and then back at her. “I think you have more fire than you know. Well, time will tell, won’t it?” He studied her for a moment before his gaze shot away. “Bertoleo is a very pretentious musician. He plays Flamenco. Calls it ‘the rhythms of life.’ His playing is average but he has ambitions, so he’s arranged to be Alejandro Summers’ assistant.”

  “Alejandro Summers?”

  “A genius at the guitar, or so they say. I’m no judge of such things. But I do know Summers is an interesting man. He made his appearance ten, fifteen years ago as a child prodigy, and then disappeared from the public scene for years.”

  Lara sipped her champagne. Alejandro Summers. The man on the balcony. Even though he’d given her the name Alex, he had to be the same man.

  “He’s going to play that exquisite piece of art,” she said with certainty.

  “You mean La Guitarra? Most assuredly. They say Troy paid him a small fortune to be here. I’ve been told he teaches at the University in Madrid. I’m not sure I believe it. But then, he is able to drop in and out of the limelight. He must not be very serious about his career,” he mused. “Ah well, I suppose his patroness is very rich.”

  “His patroness?”

  “La Comtessa de la Guerra. Much older, but still quite smitten with Alejandro. Of course, they were lovers years ago. There have been others, but he always went back to her, at least until she passed away.”

  Of course. It all fit. His unusual manner. The loose clothing. His confidence and European style.

  Lara’d been around men like him all her life. Sophisticated, artistic charmers, men who broke women’s hearts for exercise. Usually, she gave them a wide berth, but this one had managed to sneak up behind her. She should have known better.

  “If you ask me,” Rupert continued, “It’s all nonsense. Perhaps La Guitarra is a fine antique, but I think its mystique is pure drivel. Of course, I can’t imagine why anyone, including Troy, would spend a fortune on Indian and colonial relics. The desert practically begs for modern designs,” Townsend said. “But then Troy is mad. Always has been. If it weren’t for his wife, I wouldn’t be here.” There was a twinkle in his gaze just before he nodded toward where Troy and Bertoleo were standing. “Go ahead. Introduce yourself. Bertoleo is nondescript, but his master is a fascinating man. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “Since I have no expectations, I’m sure I won’t,” Lara assured him.

  Townsend smiled a secretive smile. “When you’re ready for more plain talk, Lara, come and see me. I’ll be here for the week. I’m staying in my home not far from the canyon. I’d love to chat.”

  Bemused, Lara studied him. Everything Rupert Townsend said and did had a purpose. The man was a major power player…like her father. She found it disconcerting to be Rupert’s focus. So disconcerting, in fact, it made her feel like running away. Only sheer determination enabled her to stand her ground. A commotion at the door drew her attention.

  Townsend clicked his tongue. “Well, really. What was Eliza thinking to invite them?”

  Lara turned and saw a very unusual couple standing in the doorway. Black leather from head to toe. The man was very tall, with long, curly black hair. His leather vest had short sleeves, which showed off an incredibly detailed dragon tattoo. The woman’s hair was just as dark…artificially dark, dyed to match her partner’s. She appeared incredibly delicate and pale against the mass of black hair and clothing, and she had more piercings in her ears then Lara had ever seen on one person.

  “Who are they?” she asked Rupert.

  “Avery Johansson and his wife. They have a very large estate here in Sedona.” He added, “He’s the lead singer for some rock band, something about geckos or lizards or something.”

  “You mean Dragonsong?” Lara asked.

  “Yes, that’s it. Some trendy, silly name. He’s apparently worth more than your father, but if you ask me, they have no place here.”

  Lara glanced sideways at Rupert. “We are here to earn money for the school, Mr. Townsend. If he’s as wealthy as you say, then Eliza was right to invite them.”

  He made a rude sound. “Some things just aren’t worth sacrificing.”

  Taking a breath to control her temper, Lara said, “I believe my mother’s school is worth it. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll introduce myself.” She crossed the room toward the couple and the small group gathering around them.

  The woman‘s green gaze focused on Lara. Then she tugged at her husband’s arm. Once, twice.

  He interrupted his conversation with Troy. Seeing his wife’s gaze locked on Lara, he nodded. “Yeah, Babe,” he said as Lara walked up. “She must be the one.”

  “Excuse me?” Lara asked.

  “My wife knows things,” Johansson said with a nonchalant shrug. “She felt certain we would meet someone important tonight.”

  The woman remained silent, studying Lara.

  “Well.” Lara felt a little uncomfortable to be the center of everyone’s attention.

  Troy smiled, a teasing, tongue-in-cheek smile.

  The couple’s entourage looked at Lara like she might sprout wings and fly any minute.

  “Well,” she said again. Then she extended her hand to the woman. “I’m Lara Fallon.”

  “Milly Johansson.” The woman sounded shy…very timid. A slight smile fluttered over her black lipstick-coated lips.

  Lara took her hand, and a jolt of energy passed between them. Lara raised a surprised gaze to the young woman’s face.

  Milly’s half-smile broadened. “Yes, you’re the one,” she said, just above a murmur.

  Speechless, Lara stared at the unusual couple.

  Milly glanced at her husband.

  Without a word, he turned to Troy. “Show me your house, man. I hear it’s too cool.”

  They headed off and the entourage followed, leaving Lara and Milly standing in the foyer.

  “I’m sorry we messed with your mind.” The young woman’s voice was barely
more than a whisper.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not the first to do that tonight.”

  Milly nodded. “I thought there’d be turmoil.”

  “You thought?”

  The woman shrugged. “I get feelings, know things I shouldn’t know.”

  “You mean you’re psychic?”

  “No. Jesus is a close personal friend, and I talk to Him a lot.”

  The sincerity in the woman’s tone stopped her from laughing. “Lots of people say the words, but I believe He really is your friend.”

  “You have no idea where I’d be now if He had not come into my life.”

  “I think I can imagine.”

  Milly smiled, a sweet shy smile. “Yes, I suppose you can. I was pretty sure I’d meet someone important tonight, and then, we’d know what to do about the school.”

  “The school?”

  “Avery and I have been praying for weeks now about becoming donors. We haven’t had a lot of answers, but there was a lot about a person who would be important to us.”

  Shifting slightly, Lara said, “And what did you learn about that person?”

  “The Lord put it on my heart to pray for you because you were headed for great danger.”

  A tingling started in the pit of Lara’s stomach but she smiled. “A palm reader told me the same thing when I was twelve. She also said I would meet someone tall, dark, and handsome who would change my life.”

  “It’s OK.” Milly’s reply came quickly. “You don’t have to believe. Most people don’t at first. It’s only important that we believe and pray, and we have been. But it hasn’t made our decision any easier. We won’t make a move until it’s resolved.”

  “What’s resolved? I don’t understand.”

  “Danger comes in a lot of forms, Lara. It doesn’t always mean physical danger. It could mean a crossroads, a decision. I think you’ll have a decision to make and it could mean success or failure.”

  Lara’s smile faded. “Now, I know this is way out there, Milly, since I have nothing to do with running the school or its success.”

  “You will.”

  Shaking her head, Lara took a deep breath. This soft, faithful woman so close to her own age made her feel protective. Her normally rigid guard slipped a notch more. “So you won’t make a commitment until I come to some grand decision. Did your prayers tell you how I’m supposed to commit to this decision?”

  Milly frowned. “No. They’re never explicit. I’m not a fortune-teller. The Lord just makes me aware so I can deliver His message. But it’s always best to follow your heart, don’t you think? God speaks to your heart and it usually leads you to the truest course.”

  Thinking of the afternoon she’d spent with Brett, Lara said, “I’m not sure, Milly. In fact, right now, I’m not sure about anything.”

  Milly nodded. “That’s why you’re headed for trouble. You have to find out what’s in your heart, Lara. If you want, we can pray right now.”

  Lara quickly shook her head and looked around. All she needed was her mother’s friends watching her pray with this strange, fragile creature. “No, no…that won’t be necessary.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. You’re not ready to listen. But I’ll keep praying.” Suddenly, she lifted her hand in a shy wave. “It was good to meet you, Lara Fallon.” With a slight smile, she turned and followed her husband and his entourage.

  Lara stood alone for a few silent moments, not certain if she should laugh or run for her life. Suddenly, she’d had enough. Turning, she headed for the French doors at the other end of the room. But she had to cross the room and that meant moving through the crowd. She couldn’t take two steps without someone stopping her. There were smiles and kisses and appropriate responses, but what was in their eyes was more telling.

  A middle-aged woman stopped her. “Lara, it’s so good to see you.” Those were her words, but her eyes said, I didn’t think you’d ever get over the accident and get on with your life!

  Her mother’s favorite designer, a distinguished man with silver in his hair, purposely made his way toward her. “Darling, you look fabulous,” he mouthed. But his look said, Your dress is a rag. Sara would have dazzled us with a new creation. Simply dazzled us.

  One of her former schoolmates, Cynthia Halton said, “Brett must be delighted to finally have you here.” She meant, Next time you leave his side, I’ll be there.

  What they didn’t say beat at Lara like unseen blows. Milly Johansson’s weird, blunt talk had been easier to take. Relieved to finally reach the balcony, she closed the doors behind her with a snap.

  Plain talk. Rupert’s words came back to her. What she wouldn’t give for some plain talk or an honest encounter.

  Like the one she’d had with Alex on the balcony?

  Purposely, Lara shut him out of her mind. He was a professional with two faces and two names, Alex Summers, the man and Alejandro Summers, the performer. Whatever he called himself, he was a practiced charmer with a patroness to maintain him and a string of lovers around the world. He made it his business to find out what women wanted and to give it to them. There hadn’t been any plain talk or honesty in their encounter.

  Well, actually there had been something real. Her response to him had been pure lust, a response Lara was not used to dealing with. It had set her off balance and made her even more susceptible to Alex’s smooth ways. The next time, she’d be more alert, more prepared. He wouldn’t catch her off guard like that again.

  Cold air slithered over her. Now that the sun had set, all warmth disappeared. The desert night felt wintry, cold, and empty. The sky was the night’s only saving grace. With no lights to hamper them, the stars twinkled like brilliant diamonds.

  Rubbing her arms, Lara gazed upwards, savoring the sight of black velvet studded with diamonds. The air was so crisp, so pure, and the stars seemed closer, as if she could reach out and touch them. They were more real to her than the people inside.

  Her problem in a nutshell: Her father called her a dreamer, chasing after things that didn’t exist, would never exist. The real world, her world, was in the rooms behind her, and she was having more trouble connecting with that than she was the stars.

  The crowd had moved to another room. Obviously, it was time for Alejandro to play.

  Lara wouldn’t stay. The entertainment was bound to be as disappointing as everything else in this day. Maybe jetlag had colored everything with a dusty, desert haze. Tomorrow, after a good night’s rest, everything would be as it should.

  She walked down the balcony, past the room where she’d seen the guitar, and entered the house through the French doors she’d originally exited. Near the front entrance she stood poised, her hand above the long-handled doorknob. The first strains of guitar music echoed over the empty foyer, its pure tones halting her and capturing her attention.

  Was it Alex—Alejandro, whatever he called himself, playing? Were those long fingers that had stroked her cheek now strumming the strings of the instrument? The chords of Flamenco music floated and flowed over the Spanish tiles and candelabra. Haunting and forlorn, they echoed through the halls, calling to her as if searching for something lost.

  Suddenly, she wanted to see the guitar, the instrument that could make such sounds…and the man who could play it. Would its surface gleam like something alive? Would he elicit sounds from it the way he’d pulled emotions from her? She had to know. Lara followed the music to the great room where the lights had been lowered.

  Alex sat on a stool before a large fireplace. Orange flames danced in the center of a half-moon-shaped white hearth, hiding the man in shadows. In his hands, the instrument glowed with golden light as his dark fingers leapt over the strings.

  Fascinated, Lara slipped into the shadowy crevice of the archway and watched as he started another haunting Flamenco song—one reminiscent of passion and pain, of souls lost and found. When she closed her eyes, Alex’s story came to her. Gypsies, black nights, and campfires. In her mind’s eye, a dark-haired beauty
danced and swayed through the crowd, mesmerizing everyone to the strains of the guitar. Lara envisioned Juan Miguel, love and passion written in his features, as his gaze followed Lucia around the campsite. The image was so clear, so vivid, Lara could almost feel the heat of the fire and the cool air at her back.

  The cadence of Alex’s palm striking the guitar pounded a beat in her heart. She wanted to move, to dance, to spin around and around, skirts flying, hair wrapping around her body, her soul spiraling up like the smoke from the fire, disappearing into the vast, star-studded sky. Faster and faster. The rhythm of the guitar matched the pulse of her heart and suddenly…it ended.

  Lara opened her eyes.

  Alex had pressed his palm to the guitar so that all pounding ceased.

  But not Lara’s heart, it throbbed. Her breathing sounded ragged. Her chest heaved, and she pressed a hand to it.

  When she looked up again, Alex’s gaze was fixed on her. Even though she stood hidden in the shadow, across a room full of people, he had found her. The crowd continued to clap with noisy appreciation, but Alex didn’t even acknowledge them. His gaze held Lara’s, and his dark eyes flashed as if caught in the light of a campfire.

  Without looking down, he started another song. He plucked at the strings and a pure, bell-like tone filled the room. The guitar became a chorus of church bells, somber, slow, and pristine. Alex sang, his voice deep and sorrowful, matching the bell’s sad sound.

  Behind him, Bertoleo pounded a slow, rhythmic beat on the face of his guitar.

  Alex’s voice rose and fell, like a mournful plea.

  Something inside Lara wanted to answer that plea, to ease his suffering. Alex’s fingers danced across the strings. They moved with such fluid grace, they hardly seemed to move at all. And yet, each note echoed with distinctive cadence, touching her heart and soul.

  Alex ended the song and dipped his head as the crowd applauded. He launched into a new one. Flamenco again, but this tune had a different beat, a faster pace. Alex’s fingers flew over the strings, running up and down the chords. It was dance music, pure and simple.