RIPE FOR VENGEANCE

by Wendy Tyson

  Megan arrived a few minutes late. A young hostess led her toward the back of the restaurant, to a semi-private room from which laughter was erupting. The hostess turned toward Megan to indicate that she’d arrived at her dinner party, but she couldn’t hide her eyeroll when another bray of laughter rang out. Megan interpreted this to mean Denver’s friends were an outgoing crowd, maybe a little too loud for this establishment.

  “Enjoy,” the hostess said.

  Megan thanked her. Social gatherings were never easy, and meeting a group of college friends was no exception. Despite working with the public at the café and farmers markets, and years of practicing law before that, she wasn’t particularly extroverted, and walking into a party that was already underway lived between root canal and scrubbing toilets on her favorites list. Despite her angst, Megan pulled her shoulders back, took a fortifying breath, and searched the long table for Denver’s face. When he saw Megan, his face lit up. He stood and squeezed his way around the table toward her.

  A hush fell over the table except for the source of the loudest laughter. The man on the other side of where Denver had been sitting was talking to the slender brunette next to him. A shock of dark, straight hair hung in his face. He had a chiseled chin, and hawkish brown eyes that stayed affixed to the brunette with a hungry, almost leering stare. At first glance, he seemed handsome in a Hollywood sort of way, but as Megan watched him carry on, his features became more vulgar, his mannerisms seemed aggressive. He paused, and the brunette glanced at Megan. She smiled.

  “Friends, I would like to introduce my special friend,” Denver smiled at Megan, “or, if I may be so bold, girlfriend, Megan Sawyer. Megan is a farmer and a businesswoman. She’s quite good with an ax and a shovel, so I would be careful to remain on her good side.”

  Laughter from around the table. The dark-haired man kept talking.

  “Chase, you’re quickly earning yourself a place at the head of her hit list.” Denver kept his voice light, but Megan heard the underlying steely tone.

  The brunette shot out a bony elbow, and the dark-haired man stopped talking.

  Denver continued. “The rude man across the table is Dr. Charles ‘Chase’ Mars. Pharmacologist and now VP of Strategic Interface for BOLD Pharmaceuticals, with ‘bold’ obnoxiously spelled in all caps.” Chase nodded. “The woman next to him is Dr. Barbara Little, Chase’s boss and our former favorite party crasher.”

  Denver turned toward the other end of the table. An elegant dark-skinned man in a red Polo shirt sat staring at Megan with a mix of curiosity and practiced nonchalance. Denver said, “Jatin Patel. Former fraternity brother and now VIP at BOLD.” Jatin smiled and nodded. He had warm, cocoa-brown eyes, and they seemed to study Megan with an intelligent detachment she found unsettling.

  Jatin said quietly, “Unfortunately, our friend Xavier Jones couldn’t be here. He wasn’t feeling well.”

  Megan said, “Nice to meet all of you. I’m sorry he couldn’t make it.”

  Next to Jatin sat a woman Denver didn’t introduce. Seeming to recognize his oversight, Denver cleared his throat. “And of course, Martine Pringle. PR Director for BOLD.”

  “Wonderful to meet you,” Martine said. She was fine-boned, and tight-lipped with high cheekbones accentuated by a severe bun. Her dark eyebrows clashed with ash-blonde hair. “And nice to see you again, Denver.”

  Denver nodded. More silence, this one awkward. Denver pulled out a seat for Megan before reclaiming his own spot next to her. He waved to the waiter, who brought Megan an iced tea, a menu, and a small plate of herbed focaccia.

  “Does everyone from the fraternity work at BOLD?” Megan asked to no one in particular.

  It was Barbara who responded. “Sure feels that way. Chase and I were some of the company’s first employees. We brought Xavier and Jatin on. We tried to entice Denver to join us, but his love of animals was too strong.”

  Megan swallowed a piece of bread and said, “Are you all in the same department?”

  Barbara shook her head. “No, no. Chase and I are on the development side—the science end of things. Xavier is investor relations, and Jatin is finance.”

  Megan noticed that once again Martine was left out. “And you,” Megan said, trying to pull the quiet woman into the conversation. “I guess as the public relations person, you’re in a different group?”

  Martine shook her head. “Corporate.” With a sideways glance at Denver, she said, “I’m here to capture the weekend on film. It’s good press.”

  Chase said, without a hint of irony, “What good is a charity event if you can’t capitalize on it?”

  Another elbow from Barbara. “The trip was my boss’s idea. Pioneer Village School helped Harriet’s daughter. She thought we could give back by coordinating a mentoring event. Hook up troubled kids with members of the corporate world. Give them the chance to learn, ask questions. Maybe even consider a career in STEM.”

  “Science, technology, engineering, math,” Jatin said to Megan.

  Megan caught Denver’s smirk behind his beer stein.

  Megan said, “Thank you. I know what STEM means.”

  “Yes, well. The big boss charged Barbie here with rounding up volunteers.” Chase pushed back from the table. “Guess who got stuck with the job?” He fluttered the fingers on his large hands. “People who owed her.”

  “You mean my friends?” Barbara’s laugh sounded brittle. “Anyway, we’re each paired with a student at the school. We’ll do a hike-in-and-camp at Lyle Lake State Park along with a few staff from the school, and hopefully we can keep in touch with our charges after the long weekend is over. We’re planning future trips—career fairs, internships. Harriet even created a scholarship fund to help student alumnus who complete this program and have no funds to go to college. She’s serious about this. Especially about attracting more girls to STEM vocations.”

  “And these kids are special,” Jatin said quietly. “They have emotional and behavioral issues that don’t allow them to fit in easily, so the exposure will be good for them.”

  Megan was impressed. Giving kids a chance to better their lives? A pretty generous endeavor for a corporation—if there was proper planning and follow-through. She looked around this table. She had her doubts. This group didn’t seem like the altruistic sorts, but to be fair, she’d only just met them.

  When the waiter showed up to take their orders, Megan whispered to Denver, “Pioneer Village School. Isn’t that where your aunt’s foster son goes?”

  “Dillon? Yes. In fact, he’s going on the trip.” Denver shot Megan the amused half-smile she loved: blue eyes crinkled, mouth slightly upturned. Knowingly amused. “Wondering which of these delightful beauties he’ll get as his mentor?”

  “Kind of.”

  The waiter returned with appetizers. He placed a beautiful mezze plate, a platter of beef carpaccio, and fried calamari on the center of the table before walking away again.

  Reaching for the beef dish, Chase said, “So, a farmer, huh? As in overalls and cows?”

  “As in organic vegetables and cut flowers.”

  “Organic? Sounds like a shitty way to make a living.” He laughed at his own pun. No one else did. Scraping half the appetizer onto his own plate, he said, “Seriously, how do you make ends meet? I’ve heard farming these days is a losing proposition. You can’t make money on vegetables. Animal production is where it’s at. Large scale.” He stuffed a forkful of raw steak into his mouth and looked around the table for confirmation. “What do they call it? Factory farming.”

  Everyone was looking down at their plate. Everyone except Martine, whose stare was firmly on Denver. Megan turned toward her boyfriend. His focus was on Chase, who he was watching with a mixture of amusement and disgust, seemingly unaware of Martine’s attention.

  Megan leaned forward, baiting Chase. Casually, she said, “Have you done any reading about the imp
act of industrial agriculture—on the workers, the environment, or the animals?”

  He shoveled in another forkful. “Is eating research? If so, I’ve done plenty of research.” He grinned. An elbow shot out and tapped Barbara’s side. She ignored him. “Lighten up. I’m just messing with you.”

  “Chase has a long history of messing with people,” Barbara said. “He wasn’t always the serious scientist.”

  “In fact, he should write a book.” Martine’s voice rang out in the silence that ensued. “About his time with The Rolling Stones.”

  “The Rolling Stones?” Megan said. “Really.”

  “Really. You don’t believe it?” Chase eyed her sideways.”

  “I’m not so sure I believe it.” Megan spooned calamari on her plate, working hard to maintain a poker face. She’d never been good at poker—and there was a reason.

  “Chase was quite the musician in his day,” Martine continued. Her voice had taken on a low, gravely tone. “Played the guitar for the Stones.”

  This time Chase had the decency to blush. “I was back-up to back-up. For two nights.”

  “In Los Angeles,” Martine said, as though that made it more significant.

  Megan glanced at the blonde. Was she PR for the company—or for Chase?

  “That’s great,” Megan said. “I had no idea.”

  “Clearly you haven’t been working with him,” Barbara joked. She softened the comment with a smile, but the knowing expression on Jatin’s face said she wasn’t kidding.

  “Enough about us.” Jatin clapped his hands together. “Denver, we’re happy to see you so happy. After what happened with—”

  His voice trailed off.

  “Oh, just say it. Lilian. His ex-wife. No one liked her much anyway.” Chase slammed back his beer, wiped his mouth with the black linen napkin, and turned his frown to Martine. “Someone missed their shot at the university’s most eligible bachelor.”

  Another awkward silence before the waiter rescued them with heaping plates of pasta and seafood. Denver rarely mentioned his ex-wife, who’d cheated on him years before.

  “I’m sorry,” Denver whispered in Megan’s ear.

  Megan squeezed his thigh under the table. She raised her glass. With a broad smile and a gusto she didn’t feel, she said loudly, “Cheers! To old friends and new adventures.”

  “I’m sorry,” Denver said again later. They were back at Washington Acres. Megan had sat on an old wooden bench and was watching Denver examine Camilla. “They weren’t quite that bloody awful in college.”

  “They were fine. You have nothing to apologize for.”

  Denver looked up from the pig. “Ta, but they were horrible tonight. The whole lot of them. Those poor laddies and lassies tomorrow. They don’t quite know what they’re in for.”

  Megan’s smile was full of empathy. “They’ll be earning their scholarships, that’s for sure. Tell me—who is Martine?”

  “The PR person for the group.”

  “No, she’s more than that. I caught the bit about your ex-wife. And she spent half the evening watching you.”

  “Aye, I was hoping ye wouldn’t notice.”

  “Well, I did. What’s the deal?”

  Tired of Denver’s ministrations, Camilla gave a snort and backed away. She shook her head, then ran around the pen, making squealy noises as she went.

  “Here now,” Denver said. His voice was gentle. “You’re a wee thing. Settle.”

  Camilla stopped and considered Denver before racing in his direction. Megan thought the little pig was going to bowl him over. Denver stayed seated and said her name again, more sternly this time, along with a string of Gaelic words Megan couldn’t quite make out. When Camilla stopped short of plowing into him, he gave her a pat and scratched behind her ears.

  “There, there. You’ve been through a lot. Settle now.” Camilla looked about to argue, but instead she flopped down on her side, her head against Denver’s leg, leaning into the caress.

  “Pigs are smart. Before long she’ll be hanging with your canine crew. Watch, though. They’re natural predators, dogs. They can get testy when they smell dinner. And to them, Camilla here may smell like dinner.”

  Megan nodded. She’d watched earlier as Sadie and Gunther, her two dogs, examined the newcomer through the makeshift barrier. They seemed accepting—but she knew there’d be a grace period before they could all be alone together.

  “Martine?” Megan said again.

  “Aye. Martine.”

  “Another long-time friend?”

  “No, Megs.”

  “Clearly this wasn’t the first time you met.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  Megan stood, stretched. “You’re being annoyingly coy.”

  Denver’s eyes narrowed. “Why the interrogation?”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  Camilla raised her head and placed it in Denver’s lap. He responded with a smile that tugged at Megan’s insides. With his tousled auburn hair, dimples, and blue eyes, he could charm her out of a bad mood—most days. Maybe she was pushing…but she felt him pulling away and didn’t understand why.

  Denver sighed. “No, it’s a fair question. Just not something I much want to discuss. I met Martine during some dark days. My then-wife Lilian and I were having problems, and I went to New York to get away. To think. I ran into Chase. He was there on BOLD business. He introduced me to Martine.” Denver shrugged. “We went out once. Just for drinks, nothing happened. I was still married, and although I guess I could have justified a one-nighter, my vows meant something to me.”

  “That was it?”

  “Martine tried to keep in touch, but I was going through the divorce.” He closed his eyes. “Dark days. I had no idea she was coming this weekend.”

  “Chase didn’t warn you?”

  A twisted smile. “Does that surprise you?”

  Megan shook her head. Chase hardly seemed sensitive enough to care—even if Denver’s discomfort would have occurred to him. The thought of him dealing with troubled teens…maybe she was misjudging him. He’d been in the music industry; maybe there was more substance than seemed apparent.

  Megan crawled over the temporary barrier and sat next to Denver. She took his hand. Camilla eyed her with contented curiosity.

  “They’re an interesting bunch,” Megan said.

  One eyebrow shot up. “Again, you’re being kind.”

  They both laughed.

  “Tell me about them. From before, when you were in college. Chase was a guitar player? I’m guessing he was a little more laid back as a younger man?”

  Denver nodded. “He was the clown of the group, always fooling around, always searching for the next party, the next cool thing. No one was that surprised when he played guitar after college. We were surprised when he got his PhD.” Denver’s smiled was wistful. “Pressure from Daddy. Not sure it was the best move. He seems edgy.”

  “You don’t think he’s happy at BOLD?”

  “I don’t know. Just something about him seemed off tonight.”

  “And the others? Barbara?”

  “We met her through Jatin. They dated, and she became like a little sister to the fraternity. Always hanging around. I think Chase had a thing for her. They’re very close friends.”

  “Are they together now?”

  “Barb is married.”

  Denver disentangled himself from Camilla and stood up. “Xavier was the studious one of the group. Straight As, always studying. Focused to a fault. He liked the good life. He’s become jaded, as you could see. And Jatin? Just an all-around good guy. Dependable. The one you went to with your problems.”

  Megan pictured them all as teens. Hopeful. Optimistic. Full of bravado. “And where did you fit in?” She asked. She stood up as well, moved closer, and put her arms around h
is waist.

  Denver returned the gesture with a soft kiss. He stroked the hair back from her face.

  “I guess I was the bad boy. Trouble and I were well-acquainted.”

  “Mmm…I always did like a bad boy.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Denver lifted her up, swung her over the makeshift enclosure. “I’ve changed my ways since college.”

  “I hope not too much.”

  “There may be a little bad boy left.” He pressed against her.

  Megan laughed. “Don’t you have to get home to the dogs?”

  “Aye, I do.” Denver hopped over the fence. “And I promised I’d take Dillon to the kick-off event early tomorrow. He’s a shy kid, kind of awkward, and Aunt Eloise thought he might do better with me. Want to come along?”

  Megan answered by kissing him. “Pick me up at seven? You can have breakfast with Bibi and me.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Megan weighed her next words carefully. “You’re sure your friends are the right ones to help these kids? I don’t mean to sound mean, but empathy didn’t exactly seep from their pores.”

  “I know what ye mean. Truth is I don’t feel like I know them that well anymore. College was a long time ago. I’ve seen them here and there in between, but not often. Life throws curve balls and people change to catch them—or to avoid getting hit. But Pioneer Village vetted them, and BOLD has money. As mentors in science and business, maybe they can teach these kids something.”

  Camilla snorted and they both looked down at the pig. Her tiny tail was wagging.

  “In the meantime, we have a mystery on our hands,” Denver said, his voice softening. He reached down to give her a last pat. “Who is Miss Camilla?”

  “Indeed.” Megan watched Camilla, thinking about troubled kids and self-obsessed adults and orphaned pigs. “And why was she locked in a storage facility?”

  Three

  Saturday morning greeted them with early sun and a blast of cooler air—a perfect day for a hike. Denver arrived at 6:10. By then, Megan had fed the chickens, checked on and fed the goats and Camilla, and given Clay and Porter her requests: namely, get Alvaro, the cranky chef at the Washington Acres Café, ten pounds of salad greens for today’s Green Goddess special.