Homecoming (15 page)
In a corner sat an enormous silver samovar on top of a Colonial piecrust table badly in need of restoration. The table was next to a broken-down floral print armchair that had seen better days, but still looked sinfully comfortable. Within reach of the armchair, atop a 1920s treadle sewing machine, was a pile of newspapers and magazines.
The ambience was warm and inviting, more comfortable and better-organized than Shakespeare & Co in Paris, but just as offbeat and just as homey.
“Hi, Lil, what can I do for you?” A middle-aged man with a pleasantly ugly face walked forward. His only concession to an alternative lifestyle was a long ponytail and jeans. But his salt-and-pepper hair was thick and clean and the jeans were neatly pressed. He also wore a blue chambray shirt and tie under a sports jacket.
“Hi, Don.” Lil leaned casually against a big worktable piled high with bestsellers. “I want you to meet a friend of mine, Federica Mansion. Federica, Don Sellers.”
“Hi, Federica. Welcome.” Federica had the impression that Don was sizing her up, but in a friendly way. If her name meant anything, he didn’t betray it by even a flicker of an eyelash. “Can I help you?”
“Well, I’m here for—” Too late, Federica realized her mistake, though Don’s friendly expression remained unchanged. “A…a while,” she finished lamely. “And while I’m here I’d like some reading material. Light. Maybe some murder mysteries. A romance or two.”
“Sure thing.” Don’s voice was a soft, pleasant tenor. “Take your time and browse. Mysteries are on the far wall, romances and sagas to your right and science fiction to your left. Straight ahead is humor and self-help. Herbal tea is in the samovar. The magazines are reasonably up-to-date.” Though his voice was light, he was observing her closely, his gaze intent, and Federica wondered uneasily what he was seeing.
When Don turned to Lilly, it was like a light switch had been turned off and Federica breathed easier.
Without any self-consciousness, Don reached over and patted Lilly’s stomach. “Welcome to you, too, little one. A lot of enlightened little souls are being born right now, and I know you’ll be one.” He guided Lilly to the armchair, where she settled with a sigh. Don smiled gently. “So, how’s she doing?”
“Just fine.” Lilly put her feet up on the Moroccan hassock Don placed in front of her. “She’s probably going to be a he, though.”
“Pity.” Don walked to the samovar and opened the spigot. A fragrantly fruity brew poured out into what was clearly a cup designed by Lilly. At least twenty other cups were on a huge, hand-painted wooden tray.
Lilly blew and sipped. “Funny you should say that. Everyone in the family is over the moon that it’s going to be a boy. Though to tell you the truth, I was hoping for a daughter.”
“And you’re right. The feminine principal is destined to rule the Earth. The future is woman. Women are evolving spiritually much more quickly than men. Being a girl would give your child a big advantage.”
“Well that’s a switch,” Lilly blew and sipped again. She should have looked masculine in her maternity jean-overalls and plaid work shirt, but she was the essence of woman as her lips curved in a smile. She curled a protective hand over her belly. “Through most of history, being a girl has been a distinct disadvantage.”
“Not now,” Don poured a cup for himself and a third one, which he casually handed to Federica. “If it’s a boy, he’ll just have to scramble to keep up.”
Lilly knocked gently on the front of her overalls. “Hear that, in there?” she asked affectionately. “You’re going to have to work hard to overcome the handicap of being a male.”
Federica tried not to eavesdrop as she walked slowly around the bookshop, making her selections and sipping tea. Mansion Enterprises had an open account at the biggest chain bookstore in downtown San Francisco and she usually ended up doing her book shopping there, since the company picked up the bill. Though she’d spent a fortune in books, the bookshop had a high personnel turnover and none of the salespeople ever recognized her, let alone offered tea or asked how she was doing.
It was fun wandering around Don of a New Age. The store looked chaotic, but after only a short time, she discovered it was surprisingly well-organized. Though the shop was small, much smaller than the chain bookstore, Don had a little of everything, all of it interesting. Federica could have bought half the books in the store.
Don thoughtfully provided wicker baskets for his clientele’s purchases, and after half an hour Federica’s basket was full. Ellen was the expert on thrillers and mysteries, so Federica stuck to romances and women’s fiction by favorite authors, the thicker the better. She was looking forward to many long pleasurable hours reading them.
Then she depressed herself by remembering that she wouldn’t be sticking around Carson’s Bluff long enough to do it.
But that was thinking about the future. She couldn’t think about the future. The future didn’t exist. There was only an endless now.
She dumped her selections on the converted butcher’s block that served as a counter and Don started ringing up the sales.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Federica picked up a slim volume with embossed flowers on the cover.
The Heart’s Journey
. She looked it over. “This must have slipped in by accident. I didn’t pick it up.”
Calmly, Don placed it to one side with her other purchases. “You’re not buying it,” he said, as he pulled out a recycled paper bag with the lotus-flower logo. “It’s my gift to you. Don’t get me wrong, but I think you need to read it.” He starting putting her books in the bag.
“I—” Federica opened her mouth, then closed it. She studied the book’s cover then turned it over to read the blurb on the back.
Many hearts are going on a journey. A journey of discovery, of love, of fulfillment. Is yours?
Yes, hers was going on a journey. Headed straight for a concrete wall at a hundred miles an hour without a safety belt.
“Um, that’s very kind of you, Don—”
“Your aura’s green, Federica.” Don was looking at her intently. He took her hand in his and it was as if a mild electric current united the two of them, flowing from Don into her.
Federica looked down at herself, though she knew exactly what she’d see. A new pair of soft, comfortable beige cotton slacks, a pink T-shirt and floral sneakers. The sum total of her purchases at Kelly’s had been two pairs of jeans, three pairs of slacks, five T-shirts, two sweatshirts, two track suits and two pairs of sneakers. Enough to keep her comfortable for…whatever.
Her mind balked at thinking about the future.
Green, Don had said. There was nothing green in her wardrobe.
“I beg your pardon, but—”
“Green auras are signs of distress and change. Change is necessary for every living creature. You’re going through great changes as you start to achieve your destiny.” Don took her other hand gently in his and she felt another jolt of electricity as his gaze seemed to pierce directly into her heart. The one that was going on a journey. “Don’t fight it. Your heart knows where it’s going, even if your head doesn’t. Follow your heart, Federica.”
He relinquished her hands and the current stopped and she felt suddenly disconnected. As if someone had switched her off. Federica watched, shaken to the core, as Don calmly finished putting her books in the bag.
Don looked up and smiled. “That’ll be $89.95. Credit card or cash?”
EMAIL FROM: [email protected]
Dear Mr. Cobb,
I’m emailing this to you because I know that Mr. Mansion is very busy in Prague. You can be the judge as to whether the information should be forwarded to Mr. Mansion or not.
Below you will find seven spreadsheets covering the next semester, using seven different economic scenarios and calculated according to the Karnovsky indices. I don’t know if you are up on the latest econometric theories, but Karnovsky’s ideas have been applied by a number of Fortune 500 companies, and the predictive factor has been close to ninety-seven percent. All the scenarios postulate different macro- and microeconomic conditions but they all come to the same conclusion. I could wrap it up in techno-speak, but in plain English, Mansion Enterprises will be facing a huge cash deficit sometime early in 2006, even if it foregoes the two big planned purchases for the second semester, the Carson’s Bluff property and the Kiev Mansion Inn. With these two purchases factored in—or even with one—we’re talking megabucks. Megabucks which we won’t have. Since I’m kind of fond of my salary from Mansion Enterprises, I thought I’d just pass word along.
Willard Greenlee, Finances
EMAIL FROM: [email protected]
Dear Frederick,
I’ve just received some rather distressing projections for 2006 from Finances. It looks like our five-year expansion program has been a little over-ambitious. Not to mention the fact that we’ve lost megabucks due to the fluctuations in exchange rates and the tanking dollar versus the euro. According to Finances, we’ll be running into an air pocket early next year if we plan on both purchasing and restoring the Carson’s Bluff property and purchasing property in Kiev in the same quarter.
I can send you the figures, but they’re so complicated I’m not sure any one human can actually understand them. You need to be a techno-geek like Willard Greenlee, who was the one who first drew my attention to the problem. Anyway, you look them over if you want, but I always tend to the take the experts’ advice. Until it lands you in jail, of course. Ha-ha.
Federica still isn’t checking her email. Maybe she knows something we don’t? Hope things are going well in Prague.
Best, Paul
Federica was miserable.
It was just as bad as she’d feared. Carson’s Bluff was perfect, and nothing perfect was destined to last in this imperfect world.
Federica couldn’t find anything to fault as she and Lily lazily strolled along the tree-lined streets meandering through the town. Most of the buildings were late nineteenth-century and lovingly restored.
“Beautiful,” Federica murmured, as she reached out to touch a delicate pink tea rose. One of the velvety petals fell into her hand. She looked past the rose arbor at a small Victorian home set well back from the road. The workmanship was exquisite, from the freshly painted gingerbread trim to the recently polished brass horsehead knocker gleaming in the noonday sun.
It would have been the perfect yuppie home, right down to the original stained glass transom, if it weren’t for an old battered van in the driveway and the swing set and tipped-over tricycle in the front garden.
Though the van was probably old enough to vote, it was too young and battered to be considered a classic car, and much too old and battered to be considered chic. These people weren’t rich. Yuppies never let their kids play in the garden because they ruin the flowerbeds, and yuppie kids were too busy with calculus and Japanese lessons to play in gardens anyway.
The whole town was like that—prettified and restored, like an outpost for six-figure professionals. But Carson’s Bluff wasn’t anywhere near where anyone could earn serious money and Federica didn’t know of any mega-corporations in the vicinity.
There were signs of life and kids everywhere. It puzzled Federica. Rich places didn’t have any outward signs of life—all life occurred behind tall fences and barricades. There was hardly a fence in all of Carson’s Bluff, and every single person they met said hello to Lilly and nodded to her.
The people. They also puzzled her. Not a moussed head of hair in sight. No baggy, hang-off-your-butt designer jeans, no pierced belly buttons, no power suits like those languishing in her suitcase. There wasn’t a designer anything in the whole town, or at least not that Federica could see.
And the
shops
. They sold things, real things, necessary things, like food and books and hardware, with nary a frill in sight. It was eerie, being in a place without boutiques, like a science fiction movie.
The Town that Boutiques Forgot
.
Not one wine bar or trendy café, just Stella’s with the furniture too recent to be back in style, sawdust on the floor and food to die for.
“You’ve got some great architecture here.” Federica pointed at a particularly fine example of the Beaux Art style.
“That’s Harry Carson’s doing. When he made his money, he called in some of the finest artists and artisans of his time. Apparently he had a lot of connections back east and he sent out word to all the craftsmen he knew that they would be welcome here in Carson’s Bluff. They say a lot of them were on the run or had offended some authority somewhere. Harry Carson made it very clear that they could start over here with a clean slate, no questions asked. They could even change their names, if they wanted to.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Federica said. Lilly’s eyes narrowed at the wistful tone in Federica’s voice.
Starting over, no questions asked, changing her name
. For a moment, Federica wished she hadn’t been born in the century of computerized records. Just running away and changing her name. It sounded heavenly. She shook her head to get rid of the thought.
“Yeah.” Lilly glanced at Federica, then looked away. “I guess it’s been a Carson’s Bluff tradition ever since.”
