Chapter 51

 

We rolled into one of the hottest summers on record, but Drake and I had our little cabin project to keep our spirits up. By August, we’d signed our closing papers and received the key. The route by air across the city was becoming familiar. Most often, though, we drove around the east side of the mountain; the cost of jet fuel was simply too much to be practical for everyday trips up there.

In the cooler mountain air we took stock of the little house’s needs. The big ones were reinforcing the flooring, applying fresh paint, adding indoor plumbing and buying modern kitchen appliances. We discovered it would cost a small fortune to have the electric company run a line up to the place, so we investigated and opted for a solar system. Sunshine is one thing we have lots of in our part of the world.

Back in the city, I kept track of what was happening to Clover Delaney. The attorneys insisted Clover and Ryan stand separate trials, which I thought was a good thing. Clover was required to spend the duration of the trial in a jail cell, and it seemed the telling of the story dragged out far too long. In the end, the jury found her guilty of obstruction of justice.

Her parents’ behavior was off-putting because of their arrogance and frequent mentions of their Hollywood connections. At least, that was my perception from the media coverage. I never was able to get one of the few seats in the crowded courtroom.

Luckily for their daughter, the judge had a kind heart and ignored the media’s “trial by television” and stayed with the actual facts. She sentenced Clover to the jail time she’d already served and probation of two years, stipulating that Clover couldn’t leave New Mexico and she needed to find gainful employment during that time.

Rick Delaney sputtered a little at the idea of his daughter actually working for a living, but the judge’s lecture on the subject was clear. An affluent lifestyle the girls hadn’t earned, in the judge’s opinion, was part of the cause of their getting so far off track. Ben Ortiz, the Delaney’s attorney agreed, at least in private, and told the family they’d better be grateful they hadn’t lost both daughters. I learned all this from Clover when she rode up to the cabin with me the day after she was released.

As for Ryan Subro, his father’s high-power attorney pulled out all the stops and managed to get his son completely off the hook for his actions. However, in a karmic way, the negative publicity surrounding the case sank the Subro auto dealerships way into the red financially. With little fanfare, Mr. Subro gave them up and the family moved out of state. Speculation in the neighborhood was that they went to Texas because it was big enough to get lost in. Personally, I didn’t think Ryan had learned a lesson at all and, knowing the law-and-order mentality of Texas courts, I was betting the destination was somewhere else, somewhere the Subros could count on leniency for their wayward son.

In truth, none of us cared enough to check. We were thrilled to see Clover get out from under Ryan’s control.

Clover received a few job offers, but all of them scared her—hostess in a popular bar, television traffic reporter, publicist for one of her dad’s upcoming films. She wisely realized all of them only wanted her for the notoriety her face would bring to their businesses. She wanted out of the limelight, so Drake and I offered to pay her to help us with remodeling the cabin. She jumped at the chance, although I warned her she would have rough hands and broken nails within a week. I found it heartening to see the flighty girl disappear and the genuine one show up each day to work.

As the weather cooled toward autumn, carpentry for the porch seemed in order—we decided to enlarge it into an actual deck where we could cook and dine outside. Clover quickly learned how to use the power tools and worked alongside both of us as we built the flooring and added lattice around the bottom of the deck to keep larger critters out. The wood siding needed new paint and I decided to stick with the colors that had appealed the first time we saw the place. Drake teased me about being a sucker for rustic charm. It was true.

Although I loved the look of the old woodstove Sarah Locke had used for cooking, the hassle and extra heat generated by it soon convinced me to bring in a microwave for summer meals. We could keep the old one for winters, and I pictured myself making big pots of stew on snowy weekends.

The biggest indoor project involved partitioning the one room to create a separate bathroom and a cozy bedroom alcove. Drake drew up plans, we all helped dig a trench from the well house, and we installed pipes and a pump. Clover built two-by-four framing for the new rooms and delighted in the praise when we saw what a great job she’d done.

“You do realize this whole project would be way different within the city limits,” Drake told us. “Codes exist for absolutely everything, building inspectors, the whole works. We’re getting by with this because it’s out in the sticks and it’s not a full-time dwelling.”

“Sarah Locke lived here just fine,” I reminded him.

“In a whole other era.”

It made me sad to realize a lot more than fancy phones had changed in the space of a couple of generations.

“How about taking a break?” I suggested. “We’ve subsisted on sandwiches and chips for weeks now. Let’s drive down the road and see if there’s decent Mexican food to be had.”

Truth be told, I missed Pedro’s more than I wanted to admit.

We hiked down the hill to where I had parked the Jeep then headed toward Madrid. I’d driven through the little art colony more times this summer than in all my previous years, but aside from the day we discovered our cabin, when the photographer had been with us in the helicopter, I hadn’t stopped to meet the locals who would soon be our nearest neighbors.

Next to the general store stood a little café whose sign announced: Burgers, BBQ, Mexican, Vegetarian. Something for everyone. We patted the sawdust off our clothes and walked in. The woman behind the counter looked familiar—long blonde hair, tortoiseshell glasses and a ready smile.

“Oh, hi,” she said. “Haven’t seen you folks around in awhile.”

“The food and wine festival.” It clicked. She was the one who, back in the spring, had been offering samples at the wine tasting booth. Seeing her nametag—Susie Scott—reminded me.

“Did you catch up with the guy you were looking for that day?” Susie asked, bringing three sets of flatware to a table near the windows.

“Wow—what a memory. I barely remembered it myself.” It was at the beginning of the Lorrento case, when I’d spotted the football player with the other woman. “Yeah, we did catch up with him.”

“I’m good with faces and details,” she said.

We sat down and she stood by the table with hands on hips. “So, since it’s after Labor Day, I’m afraid we’re on a modified menu. We’re totally out of the vegetarian specialties and the last of the barbeque went yesterday. Cook can make you a burger, nearly any style, and all the Mexican dishes are available.”

She kept talking as she bustled to the counter and brought a pitcher of water to fill our glasses.

“Sorry about the limited menu. It’s just, once summer’s over, the crowds are gone and it’s not worth our while to keep much in the freezer. We use it all up then we close for the winter. Cook makes up some pretty creative things, though. Today’s special is the pulled pork burrito with green chile sauce and papitas. They’re real good.”

My mouth began to water as she described it. We each ordered one. Susie busied herself behind the register and I gathered, from conversation with the cook, she was the owner. She tended to a dozen little duties but kept our glasses filled and asked whether we needed anything more. When she came by with our check, she focused on Clover.

“You’re the girl from the news, right?”

Clover was used to the question but didn’t like to respond, so I spoke up and steered the conversation another way.

“She is. We’re neighbors. In fact, we’ll be almost-neighbors of yours. Drake and I just bought a little cabin up in the hills.”

Susie blushed a little and faced Clover again. “Oh, I didn’t mean to pry. I felt so sorry for you, honey. I’m sure you were hounded to death by the press. I just wanted to ask a favor and see if we could help each other. Part of the reason we close here in the winter is there’s a ton of stuff to do for the store and the café—the place gets bombarded by tourists all summer, so, yeah, the maintenance is fierce. Thought I’d see—you know, if you need a job—if you’d be interested. You could live in one of the little bungalows out back, help me with the work …”

I watched Clover’s face.

“I’m an artist,” Susie said, “and I like to use the winter months to paint a lot so I have some new things to sell the next summer. But I end up spending too much time building and fixing stuff. It’s hard for me to get around to everything myself. There’s a place for you to stay out here where it’s quiet, and I can pay you a bit.”

Clover gave the most genuine smile I’d seen in months. “Ms. Scott, that’s so nice. Can I think about it for a little while?”

“Sure, hon. Just let me know.”

We split the check. I was pleased to see Clover chip in her share but not make a grandiose gesture to pay for everything with a credit card the way she used to do.

Back at the cabin, we picked up where we’d stopped—bracing the framing for the new room partition. I held the partition in place while Clover hammered the supporting pieces.

“So, that was kind of a surprise,” I said. “Susie Scott offering you a job.”

“It was nice of her, and I think I’d be interested. I wanted to talk to you first, though. See, I had another idea.” She got shy all of a sudden. “Since we’ve been working on the cabin, I … well, I really love doing this.”

I waited to hear the rest. Did she hope we could keep her employed on our job forever?

“So, I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I want to go to trade school. I want to become a carpenter.”

“Clover, that’s great!” For the kid who’d thought of nothing more serious than shopping at designer stores, spending on an unlimited credit card, and keeping up with Instagram, this was a huge breakthrough.

“I mentioned it to my dad on the phone a couple days ago and he flipped. Said if I was so damn sure of myself then I must not need his money anymore.”

“Oh, gosh. I hadn’t thought of that.” I let go of the partition. She’d braced it well.

“I don’t care,” she said, setting her hammer down. “I got an offer for Zayne’s car the other day and I’m selling it. That’ll cover my first year in school. I’ll sell mine and get a more practical vehicle, like a little pickup truck. And now … well, I think running into Susie today was fate. I can do what she said. Live out there in Madrid, go to school during the week and help her on weekends.”

“You’re sure? It doesn’t sound as if your parents will be very happy about this.”

She nodded. “I did things their way for a long time. The social friends, the contacts in the business … Ugh, it’s all just so phony. Someday, I want what you and Drake have. I want a partner who loves the same things I do, a genuine guy who’s my best friend, the guy I’ll want to spend time with and do projects together.”

Her expression turned sad. “I can’t believe Zayne or I ever thought Ryan Subro and his friends were interested in us. Not the honest kind of interest I really want.”

“Do those kids ever contact you, try to get you back in their circle?”

“While I was in jail, and even before the horrible days of the trial—not one of them called or texted me. They don’t care about me. They care about appearances. Things got back to me, things they were saying about me. You wanna know what I did?” The quirky grin was back on her face.

“What?”

“Threw them away.”

“Your old friends?”

“In a way. I threw away my phone. All the contacts—gone. All the social media accounts—I’m done with ’em.”

“You won’t miss them or wish for the contact?”

“It’s not like any of them miss me, is it? No, I don’t need those kinds of friends. I got myself a plain old phone that does nothing but make calls. If I ever need to talk to Missy or any of the others, I’ll call them, but so far my parents, Elsa and you are the only people’s numbers I’ve programmed into the new phone.”

The afternoon sun had gone behind the mountain and there was a distinct chill in the air. Drake came in and announced he had the pump ready to hook up to the new line, first thing tomorrow.

“You ladies look kind of serious,” he said, giving me his questioning everything okay? look.

Clover laughed first. “Everything is perfect.”

We grabbed our jackets and locked the cabin before starting down the hillside.

“Charlie? Could we make a stop on the way home?”

“Certainly.”

“I want to tell Susie Scott my decision.”

“We absolutely can stop for that. And Clover? I’m so proud of you.”

She gave me one of the most heartfelt hugs of my life, and all at once the months of worry and the agony I’d felt on behalf of my young friend—it all melted away as I watched her embark on her new and steady path.