Open Eyes (Open Skies)

by Marysol James

  Open Eyes

  (Open Skies #3)

  By Marysol James

  © 2014 by Marysol James.

  All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design: www.doc2mobi.com

  Cover photo: © Artem Furman/Fotolia

  Dedication

  For R.

  Triumphant survivor of the man you married.

  May you shine on.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Excerpt from 'Open Heart' (Open Skies #4)

  About the author

  By the same author

  Chapter One

  Victoria Thompson fidgeted with the loose button on her blouse. She wished that she had noticed it in the motel earlier, instead of here and now, at Open Skies Ranch eighteen minutes before her interview. Dammit. She took a deep breath, tried to stay focused. Don’t let this small thing upset you, Vicky. Come on now.

  But it was upsetting to have buttons and threads hanging, mostly because she was already in a full-blown panic. Her chronic punctuality and worry about navigating unknown back roads had got her to Open Skies almost ninety minutes early, and she had sat in the restaurant, nursing a coffee and watching in horror as one interviewee after another walked past the floor-to-ceiling windows. They were all so glossy and elegant and put-together. The women had perfect hair and certainly no loose buttons on their crisply-ironed blouses or runs in their sleek nylons. The men had tailored suits and shiny shoes and carried what were undoubtedly top-of-the-line laptops in smart briefcases.

  And they were just all so young. Vicky would be surprised if any of them had been born in the 1980s – forget about the 1970’s, like she was. OK, she had entered this world in the mid-70’s, but still. Most of these candidates looked fresh out of college. They looked, what? Twenty-two? Twenty-four? Meanwhile she was pushing forty and she both looked and felt it.

  Jesus Christ…what am I doing here?

  She almost ran a dozen times. Just paid for her coffee and slunk out to her rental car – a luxury that she had scrimped and saved to afford, in an effort to impress, ha! – and made a dash for it. Driven away down that winding dirt road, past the stables, and bombed right the hell out the front gate, never to be seen or heard from again. Maybe she’d find the first roadside bar around these parts and just down a few shots of Wild Turkey to calm the nerves.

  But she needed this job desperately; more than that, she wanted this job. Badly. So she sat and watched the parade of kids go in and come out and she stayed right where she was. She was going to see this through, come hell or high water.

  I promised Sonia. I promised Mom. I am going to do this.

  Time crawled at approximately a glacial pace and then, suddenly, it was one o’clock and time for her interview with Julie Everett and Rob Cathay. Vicky went back to reception, where the very nice young woman invited her to take a seat. Again. She had offered Vicky a chair ninety minutes earlier, but Vicky had been horrified at the thought of sitting there that whole time, observed by the hotel front desk staff and the shiny and brilliant job applicants.

  Maria Torres looked at the woman sitting and waiting for her interview. She was clearly terrified and doing an absolutely lousy job of hiding it. Maria felt for her: she was almost pathologically shy when she wasn’t at work, and felt great sympathy for others who weren’t outgoing or gregarious.

  There was something likeable about Vicky Thompson, though. She was soft, somehow. Not weak, not foolish, not a pushover. No, she was – what? Uncertain, Maria supposed. Certainly less confident than any of the other applicants, but most of the others had sharp edges. They were too shiny, too polished, too perfect. Kind of brittle and pointed. They reminded Maria of how Julie had been when she first arrived at Open Skies almost a year earlier, before Julie had started to unbend.

  Maria looked at Vicky sitting on the sofa in her trim black skirt and white blouse. Her shoes were black flats and she wasn’t wearing any jewelry besides a thin gold necklace. Her purse was plain black leather and boasted no designer label. She was quietly respectable and simple; nothing flashy or fancy whatsoever about Vicky Thompson. She was the exact opposite of all the other candidates, in their teetering high heels and expensive ties and with impressive logos prominently displayed on their phones, purses, and laptops.

  Instead, there she was on that sofa, her slim knees tightly pressed together, her narrow shoulders tense, her back not even touching the sofa. She was literally sitting at attention. She looked terrified but determined, and Maria found herself rooting for Vicky, quite hard.

  Wow. I really hope she gets this job. Assuming she survives the interview – she may die of nerves before that happens.

  The door of the conference room opened and Maria saw Julie come out with the other candidate. They were chatting amiably. They reached the reception desk and shook hands and the young man headed for the door. Julie glanced down at the paper in her hand and looked up at Vicky. Vicky sat up even straighter, if that was possible.

  “Hi, Vicky?” Julie said.

  Vicky shot to her feet. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Julie smiled at her and shook her hand. “I’m Julie Everett. Do you want to come this way?’

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Vicky followed Julie down the hallway and in to the bright conference room. A man was sitting there – a gorgeous man, Vicky noted even in her panic – and he stood up to greet her. He was tall and broad and had very blue eyes. His body was muscular, and she felt his strength radiating through the rather conservative suit he was wearing. But good Lord, he was young. Why are they all so damn young? This vision of male perfection smiled at her.

  “Hi, Vicky. I’m Rob Cathay.”

  They shook hands and Vicky tried to remember to breathe.

  They all sat and Julie looked across the table at her. “Well, it’s certainly nice to have another redhead in the room!” She laughed.

  Vicky stared at her, seeing her properly for the first time. Julie Everett was – there was no other word for it – stunning. How had she missed it out in the lobby area?

  Julie was on the short side, but her curvy body more than made up for that. Large breasts, swelling gently under a casual dress in bright colors and a sunny yellow jacket on top. It should have all clashed with her fiery, golden-red hair, but somehow, she carried it off effortlessly. Julie’s optimism and brightness just glowed out of her, and Vicky found herself drawn to Julie Everett. She also found that she wanted to work for this woman. She wanted to be around that kind of happiness and joy every day. It would certainly be a nice change from her life now: so gray and bleak and fearful.

  Vicky tried to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Oh, my God. I have spoken exactly three times between here and the lobby, and each ti
me I have said ‘Yes, ma’am’. Get it together. Right. Now.

  “Did you have any trouble finding us?” Rob asked.

  “Oh, no. No, I didn’t.”

  “And have you been here before?”

  “No, I haven’t. I’m not really from around here.”

  Julie picked up Vicky’s CV. “Yes, I see that you’ve just moved here from Kansas.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And when did you move to Colorado?”

  “Three months ago.” Vicky was glad that she had rehearsed this story over and over in front of the mirror in the motel bathroom.

  “And I see that you have quite a gap in your employment history.” Rob looked at the CV. “It was – what? A six year break?”

  And I felt every single second of it. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “What were you doing during that time?”

  “Well, I was married at the time,” Vicky said. “I met Carl at college in Topeka. We were both in business, and when we graduated, we both got jobs in Kansas City and moved there. I worked at a few smaller hotels there before I got a job at the InterContinental Hotel. I stayed there for seven years, in the marketing department.”

  “Yes. I already spoke to your former manager there, Alina Katz,” Julie said. “She said wonderful things about you.”

  Vicky blushed. “Well, that is nice to hear. She was a wonderful boss.”

  “She said that she was very sorry when you left… she said you were effective and creative and professional and fun.”

  “Alina is very kind.”

  “So, if you don’t mind my asking, why did you leave a job you liked so much and were so good at?” Rob asked.

  “Well, Carl and I had worked pretty hard and we had saved up quite a bit of money. The plan was for me to… to… um. To have a baby. So, we tried and Carl thought that if I were more relaxed and focused, we’d have better luck. So I quit my job.”

  Huh. That seems a bit weird, Julie thought. But OK. Aloud, she said, “And have you got any children?”

  OK, Vicky. This is the part you need to get through now. Be convincing.

  “No, unfortunately. And this is why our marriage ended – the stress of trying to conceive for six years and all the fertility treatments and doctor’s visits just took their toll.” Vicky looked them in the eye. “Carl left me six months ago, and so here I am, starting again.”

  “Oh,” Julie said. “Oh, I am so sorry.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  There was a bit of a pause as Julie and Rob looked at each other.

  “So, let’s talk a bit about Open Skies, OK?” Rob said. “One of our staff members in the Marketing department, Lindsey Chaplin, is moving to another state. Her husband’s office has moved him to another office, and she’s going with him, obviously.”

  “I see.”

  “She’s here for another four weeks, so she’d be training her replacement.” Rob paused. “Do you know anything about our hotel at the moment?”

  On more comfortable ground now, Vicky relaxed a bit. “Yes. I did lots of research before coming here today.”

  Julie and Rob looked interested in that. “What kind of research?”

  “Well, online first, obviously. I read your whole website and all the guest comments. I also checked all the online hotel review websites and read every single word any guest had ever written about Open Skies – hotel amenities, customer service, your restaurant, the horseback riding lessons, the tennis courts. Then I called nine different travel agents in Denver and Colorado Springs who also book accommodation for their customers and asked what they had heard about the ranch and hotel, and if they had any feedback. Then I met with two of your regular guests for coffee and I asked them what they liked about Open Skies, and what they’d like to see more or less of in future.”

  “You – I’m sorry. You what?” Rob said. “Which regular guests?”

  “Mr. Gregory Peters and Ms. Annabeth Wheeler.”

  “Really?” Julie leaned forward, fascinated. “How on earth did you find them?”

  “On your website. They both left testimonials there, using their real names. It wasn’t hard to find Mr. Peters on LinkedIn and Ms. Wheeler through her agent, and make contact. I asked if they would have the time to meet and help me prepare for the job interview. They were delighted to talk about you and your hotel.”

  Julie and Rob both stared at Vicky. It was hard to believe that this woman in the uninspired outfit who had been shaking when she entered the room had had the creativity and motivation and guts to call up strangers out of the blue – all for a job she didn’t even have. Both Julie and Rob adjusted their initial impressions of Vicky Thompson pretty damn quick.

  “That’s impressive,” Rob said. “I imagine you got some good information from them? Helpful feedback?”

  “Oh, sure. They had overwhelmingly positive things to say, of course. I mean, they are regulars, and they both provide Open Skies with an incredible amount of word-of-mouth, from what I understand.”

  Julie and Rob nodded.

  “But they also had some suggestions – quite interesting ones, I thought – and I’d think that if you adopted some of the changes they want to see, you may see an increase in regular and returning guests. I mean, better than you do now, which is already astounding.”

  “So,” Julie said, her clear mint-green eyes twinkling. “Are you going to tell us what Greg and Annabeth said?”

  Vicky grinned back; the change it made to her face was incredible. Rob and Julie stared as her tired brown eyes just lit up and her straight, tight mouth curved in to a brilliant smile. “You want to know what they said? You need to hire me… I’ll tell you everything then.”

  Rob and Julie laughed aloud.

  Vicky fully relaxed. OK. That’s all; I’ve done my best. But I think I’ve got a shot.

  **

  Phil Dobson stood in the stable door, listening to the sound of an engine choking almost half to death. He looked up the hill to the main building and saw a blue Ford Focus parked just outside the front door. Maria was standing there with a red-haired woman. Not Julie, though. This woman was a bit taller than Julie.

  “Hey, Jake?” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m going to go up the hill, see what’s happening with that lady’s car. She may need a hand.”

  Jake Weston emerged from Rocket’s stall and squinted at the main building. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, go on. If you need any tools, just holler.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Phil pulled his jacket collar up a bit tighter against his throat – the early September wind was starting up, and it already had a bit of a chill. He approached the women and smiled.

  “Hello, ladies,” he said. “You having some trouble?”

  “Oh, Phil.” Maria was relieved. “Yes. Yes, we are. It just won’t start, and I really don’t know the first thing about cars or engines or anything…”

  Phil was looking at the other woman, and with some interest. She had almost the exact same color hair as Julie and it looked just as good on her; Julie’s hair was curly, though, and this woman’s was shiny and straight. She was also taller than the boss, and not quite as rounded. Slimmer, more straight up and down, almost too thin. Her eyes were amazing, though, a deep chocolate-brown, and her lips were naturally pink and generous. Those eyes were gazing at him now, panicked and teary.

  “Ma’am,” Phil said to her. “Can I maybe offer you a hand?”

  “Please,” she said. Her voice was low and sweet, and he heard a tremor. “It’s a rental car, you see, and if I have to call them to come and collect it –”

  “They’ll charge you an arm and a leg and the earth for the privilege,” Phil finished for her.

  A ghost of a smile appeared around her beautiful mouth. “Yes.”

  “Well,
let’s just see if we can avoid that now, shall we?”

  Maria sighed. “Oh, great. Thanks, Phil… I need to get back inside. Is that OK?”

  Phil waved his hand. “Get on back to work. I’ve got this.”

  Vicky stood back and watched as the large man with the strong arms studied the engine for a few seconds. He reached under the hood and lifted a few things and moved some wires around. He looked at her and smiled.

  “No problem, ma’am. I just need a torque wrench, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. A piece just fell loose – I can see it down there – and I’ll remove a couple of parts to get to it, screw it back in to place, and put everything back.”

  “And will it take very long?”

  “Nah. Twenty minutes, tops.”

  “Thank you, so much. I really appreciate the help.”

  “You are very welcome, ma’am.”

  Phil reached in to his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Vicky watched as he punched in a number and then stood and gazed down at the stables below.

  “Hey, Jake? Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. Can you just bring me the torque wrench?” He listened for a second. “Yeah, that’s all I need. Thanks.”

  He disconnected and turned to Vicky. “So, if you want to go inside, maybe have a coffee, I’ll come and get you when it’s done.”

  “Oh, that’s OK. I don’t mind waiting out here.” She looked around. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It is,” Phil agreed.

  “And since you’re helping me, maybe you can stop calling me ‘ma’am’,” she said. “I’m Vicky.”

  “Phil.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  “And you.” He looked her up and down, took in her flats and skirt and blouse and guessed that she must have been there interviewing as Lindsey’s replacement. He noticed that the bottom button on her blouse was hanging loose and was just about to fall off. Phil reached out. “Hey, your button is –”