Desert Town Angels
PART ONE

by R.A. Lee
Copyright 2012

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Desert Town Angels
PART ONE
“The Last Will and Testament of Howard Thornbon”

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any living person past or present, or sleeping in my bed, is purely coincidental.
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Dedicated to my mother, the love of my life, and my family.
Special dedication and thanks to Adriane from Goodreads.com, who helped name our misunderstood antagonist.

TalesByRALee.com
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Cover image by Autumn Angel Designs trademarked and copyrighted 2013
Photography courtesy MFS

Other eBook Titles by R. A. Lee
“Love Again, Love for Them: A Novel”
“The Beauty at the Bus Stop: A Novel"
"The Fountain of Truth: A Novel"
“My Vegas Valentine: A Novella”

“Desert Town Angels” Trilogy
PART ONE “The Last Will and Testament of Howard Thornbon”
PART TWO “The Kin of Ms. Honey Hallowell”
PART THREE “The Final Showdown in Golden Peaks”

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CHAPTER 1

It wouldn’t have been a funeral without someone crying. It wouldn’t have been a funeral with Sheri if she weren’t the loudest of the mourners.
As her shrieks and cries pierced the thick layer of heat of the dying day while they stood on the flat clearing carved out of the side of the hill overlooking the old town, Ryan Camden concentrated on the sun’s dying rays slicing along his neck as it slowly dipped below the rocks. 
At least that pain was bearable; the piercing screeches from Sheri were like an ice pick being shoved in his ears.
“Why?” came the cry over and over from the only known heir to Howard Edward Thornbon as he was laid to rest. 
Knowing Sheri, though, the performance had only just begun.
As the pastor droned on with “dust to dust,” Ryan blinked the dust from his eyes already burning from the heat of the scorched day, tasted it on his parched lips, and shuffled his feet in the dry, cracked clay. 
It was all dust to dust in Golden Peaks, the ancient, withered, dehydrated, wrinkled face of the earth gasping with each blast of heat and the constant pressure from the unrelenting sun.
Lean and mean, plants stretched brittle branches along the ground like hairy desert spider legs, the dried trees armor-plated in thorny, scaly bark.
The only visual relief, a wispy, leafy bush with slender branches, beckoned in the breeze along the old riverbed.
Someday he would know the names of all the plants, of all the animals that skittered like animated rocks along the desert floor.
Wiping thick sweat from his flush, gaunt face, the pastor waited for Sheri to stop wailing. 
There was not one other visible mourner. Only the sound of creaking canes, the whispering of dust hitting the side of Grace’s aluminum wheelchair.
Tears were too costly for the elderly citizens, especially when Sheri had more than enough to spare. If they just stood quietly, Sheri would be through with her display of anguish over her father’s passing and they could all get back to their homes and rest.
A golden flash of blonde hair caught his eye as Sheri turned her attention to her audience. Bowing his head quickly, Ryan looked at the red/gold clay at his feet as spirited dust swirled in the air, in the sunlight.
Everyone waited for the finale. With an audience, Sheri would surely save the best for last.
There was only a moment of peace. It was just a moment.
Pausing between shrieks and cries, the pastor delivered the last prayer and stepped back.
Taking a deep breath, Sheri looked around at the mourners, carefully dabbed at her red eyes with a white handkerchief stamped with her father’s monogram, and took in the scene.
As the rays of the sun scraped lower down his neck, Ryan dared not move, not until Sheri had exhausted her grief.
Turning from the others, Sheri extended her arm and allowed her black shawl to flutter to the ground in front of the shiny, mahogany casket.
Letting out a well-practiced sob, Sheri dropped to the ground, careful to make sure her black lace designer dress did not touch the dusty earth, threw her head back so that her blonde hair bounced on the back of her dress for everyone to appreciate, and placed the tips of her manicured fingers on the casket. 
“You didn’t deserve this,” Sheri moaned as she grazed her rosy cheek along the polished mahogany. Raising his eyes slightly, Ryan noticed how the stain on the casket blended well with the rouge on her cheeks.
For all the crying, there was not one tear streak on her flawless skin. Eyes back on the dirt, Ryan sighed as the merciful sun reached the protective barrier of his suit jacket.
It was the only dress item he owned, and it was dark blue, not black. Considering he was wearing his best pair of jeans, the jacket was respectful for the occasion. 
“They never appreciated you,” Sheri continued. Tilting her head, Sheri looked back. Someone cleared their throat and Ryan looked up for just a split second and caught Sheri’s glare.
It was too late to look down. Somehow, he had disappointed her, missed some cue and he was confused. But when Sheri rolled her eyes, turned her head and pushed herself up, Ryan knew how this performance would end.
Taking a step forward, to everyone’s amazement, he caught Sheri as she slumped and then pushed herself back into his extended arms.
“Take me home,” she whispered clutching onto his jacket and pressing her body to his chest. Groaning, Ryan lifted Sheri and adjusted to her weight as he gathered her slim frame in his arms, and carried her away from the casket and toward the limo waiting at the bottom of the slope.
Careful not to slide on the sandy, rock-strewn dirt, Ryan braced himself for the encore. With just twenty-five paces left until she would be mercifully placed in the waiting limo, Sheri leaned her head back for the encore.
Struggling only slightly in his arms, Sheri let out a loud cry as the startled chauffeur opened the back door on the passenger side of the stretch limo. Counting, 24, 23, 22, Ryan concentrated on the moment the door closed on Sheri so that everyone could recuperate from the day’s events.
“I’m all alone now,” she cried. Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, slipping her hand under his jacket, Sheri repeated her lament, this time in a husky whisper only for Ryan to hear.
The count was up. With a 3, 2, 1, Ryan leaned into the open limo, gently placed Sheri on the seat and quickly pulled himself away as the chauffeur closed the door.
A shiver coursed through his overheated muscles as if he had just stepped away from a trap before it closed on him. 
Turning quickly, Ryan squeezed his eyes tight when he heard a whir as the automatic window lowered. 
“Ryan,” came her plea. “Ryan, I don’t want to be alone.”
The other mourners stood at the top of the clearing waiting for assistance to navigate the slope and Ryan knew he had a reprieve.
Turning, he pointed up the slope.
“Have to help the others back home,” he said. It was going to take time to get Grace’s wheelchair down the slope, in addition to assisting Nelson and Mrs. Hargate who steadied themselves with canes, but Ryan hoped it would take all night.
A sneer crossed Sheri’s beautiful face and Ryan knew it had nothing to do with the setting sun in her cold blue eyes.
“Such a nuisance,” she cursed as the tinted window started to roll up. Turning again, Ryan didn’t acknowledge her parting words.
“I’ll be over later,” she promised as the window whirred closed. Looking up at his neighbors, dust clinging in the air, a veil between them, Ryan took a deep breath and released all the painful tension that flowed in her dusty departure.
Passing through the veil, Ryan shared a meaningful moment of silence with his fellow citizens.
“Is she gone?” Mrs. Hargate whispered as the limo rode away and turned right onto the main road through the old town that led to the highway.
“She’s gone,” he nodded as the limo passed Howard’s residence, the old hotel.
“Let me help you, Grace,” Ryan offered and he started to push her down the slope to the waiting minivan.
“No, no,” Grace insisted as she weakly resisted Ryan’s assistance. “We didn’t say goodbye, Ryan. We have to go back and say goodbye,” the elderly woman pleaded.
Confused, Ryan noticed Nelson slowly walking back to join Mrs. Hargate and the pastor waiting patiently near the casket. The pastor stood with the bible in his hands ready to finish the ceremony that Ryan had thought was already over.
It was a slow, dusty migration and Ryan accepted a warm water bottle from Grace as they stood once again in front of the casket.
In one long swallow, Ryan quenched his parched throat. Opening the worn, leather-bound bible, the pastor continued and they were silent as Howard Edward Thornbon was laid to rest. Again.
When the pastor closed his bible, Nelson started to bend, his cane shaking and creaking, and Ryan stuffed the water bottle in his jacket pocket as he went to help him.
Realizing Nelson was reaching for the ground and not having a heart attack, Ryan held the elderly man steady.
With a handful of clay in his feeble, shaking hand, Nelson tried to lift himself up and Ryan assisted.
Hobbling to the casket, with Ryan’s help, Nelson paused, bowed his head, then raised his shaky arm and released the dirt on top of the blanket of carnations draped across the casket. 
Red/gold clay on pert, crimson flowers would have infuriated Sheri, but she was not there and Ryan was grateful for this time to say goodbye to his friend. 
Behind them, Mrs. Hargate dropped a few sprinkles of dirt on the casket.
“Go,” Nelson said as he shook from Ryan’s grasp and nodded toward Grace.
“Sure thing,” Ryan said and walked quickly to the woman waiting patiently in the heat of the fading day.
It wasn’t easy rolling her over the uneven, rocky earth, but Ryan followed the slow procession to the slope after Grace paid her respects.
An old, dented pickup truck rolled up in a tornado of dust and two men from the funeral home in Hamptonville got out and headed toward the slope.
“Look at that,” Grace observed, “why, it looks like a golden cross,” she said with excitement. One last ray extended from behind the boulders on the hilltop. Pausing to look down at the town, it took Ryan a moment to see what Grace was talking about. 
“Nelson, Mrs. Hargate,” she called out, but her throat was dry and she started coughing. 
“Her water,” Nelson said, pointing at the bag strapped to the side of Grace’s chair.
Grabbing the top of the bottle sticking out of the bag, Ryan twisted the cap and knelt before the elderly woman as she sipped and coughed. Taking a deep breath, Grace called the others to look at the cross. 
For a moment, they all looked down at the town. A tar-patched paved road stretched through a few sagging wood buildings and intersected with the old highway just outside of town.
The last rays of the bright, desert sun grasped the pavement and lit up the road like flowing lava.
For a moment, just before the rays released their grasp and sank behind the rocks in a fiery melting glow, Ryan saw the golden cross Grace had brought to their attention.
Nelson nodded his head as the men approached to place the casket in the ground. 
“Need some help there?” the older man in overalls asked as they reached the top of the slope.
“Thanks,” Ryan said as he stood. The golden cross was now just two roads intersecting. A dirt road ran from the main road on the east where a few trailers huddled together, shaded by one sagging palm tree swaying in the breeze of unrelenting heat.
A long shadow mercifully covered the scorching dirt and released the trapped heat from the sun’s relentless march on the valley. It was still hot, but the sting of the sun’s sharp blaze had subsided. 
With the minivan loaded, Ryan drove the half-mile into town, and turned left on the dirt road. It wasn’t quite a trailer park, it was just a makeshift residence for the last remaining residents of Golden Peaks. 
Nobody wanted to get out of the minivan when Ryan stopped in front of the trailers.
Stars sparkled in the dark sky and Ryan didn’t want to get out of the minivan either.
“Don’t you wish we could just drive and drive,” Grace said wistfully as if reading all of their thoughts. 
“That would be nice,” Nelson answered. “They might as well have just put us in the ground as well.”
Closing his eyes tightly, Ryan cleared his throat.
“Howard would be disgusted with you for saying that,” Ryan admonished the elderly man. “Like you have no faith in him, after all he’s done for you, for us.”
Ryan shook his head and gripped the steering wheel. There was nowhere to go. They could only sit and wait. No one knew what was in Howard’s will. 
“It’s getting late,” Ryan declared and got out to help the others into their homes.
As he placed Grace on her bed, Ryan realized the elderly woman was smiling. Looking into her foggy, gray eyes, Ryan wondered what had suddenly changed her mood.
“Are you alright, Grace?” he asked. Clasping his face with her cold, soft hands, Grace smiled up at Ryan.
“It was a sign, Ryan,” Grace concluded. “The golden cross.”
Pulling away, Ryan held Grace’s hands and looked at the old woman.
Every day he saw each of the residents slowly fading away, shriveling, skin wrinkling like parched riverbeds, cracked and crumbling. As the dust slowly wore away at the rocks, time was slowly picking away at his friends, his neighbors. At him.
But it wasn’t death they feared. All of them knew they would die at some point. It was the uncertainty of where they would die, that was the fear.
As long as Howard was alive, there had been no fear that Golden Peaks would not be their final resting place.
Who would have guessed Howard, almost two decades younger than Nelson, Mrs. Hargate and Grace, would have passed first.
Sheri was plotting to get rid of them. That was certain. It was just a matter of time before the FOR SALE sign went up on the town. 
If Howard had not requested to be buried on that hill, where Ryan found him, Sheri would have had him transported to the city and not even bothered inviting any of them to the funeral. Except Ryan. 
“No, Grace,” Ryan disagreed about the sign as he gently squeezed her frail hands and released them.
Pulling the blanket to her chest, Ryan tucked her in. Aware of the mounting anger that started to boil within him, Ryan stepped back and looked down at the fragile woman and took a deep breath.
“I don’t believe in signs. Howard loved all of you like family. I am sure you will be taken care of. Good night, Grace,” he said as he backed out of the room and switched off the light.
Reaching behind him, Ryan found the door handle and slowly walked down the three metal stairs and closed the door on Grace. 
All the lights were off in the trailers. Looking up at the sky, Ryan saw a meteor fly past, a golden/green burst that just flamed out before it reached the earth. Although it was gone, Ryan followed its trajectory and shrugged. So fast, so earnest, and then, poof, gone.
Even though the hot rays of the sun were gone, Ryan could feel the throbbing, hot burn on the back of his neck. Slipping off his jacket, he folded it and walked by the minivan and up the dirt road a couple hundred yards guided by the only lamppost on the main road.
At the corner stood a General Store. There was an auto body shop across from the General Store, then six other buildings that had housed various retail stores and a diner over the lifetime of the town.
Turning right, and right again, Ryan made his way up to the loft where he lived above the General Store.
Turning the knob, he opened the door. When he got inside, he locked it, thought twice, and then bolted it. 
Placing his only dress jacket over his worn recliner, Ryan stood in the dark staring out through the south-facing window. There was no obstruction to his view of the old hotel where Howard had lived until he died a few days earlier.
The main road ended where it met the old highway, south of town. Lights glowed from the old hotel windows like a lit jack-o’-lantern.
Every night for four years Ryan had looked out that same window and had been comforted by the glow up at the hotel, by the knowledge he had a neighbor close by.
This night, the lights seemed almost menacing. 
Stepping away from the window, Ryan undressed in the darkness, took a long cool shower, put on a pair of clean boxers, then grunted as he fell on top of the comforter on his bed under the windows. 
Staring up at the stars, Ryan stretched out on his bed and waited. There would be a knock on his door. 
Knowing that, Ryan busied himself with other thoughts and soon he was asleep. 
From somewhere in a foggy corridor of his dreaming brain, Ryan heard a knock. It was a soft thud, then several soft thuds before he realized he had a visitor. 
“Ryan,” Sheri called out from the hallway, “Ryan,” she called again each time getting louder. “I need you tonight, Ryan,” Sheri moaned from behind the door. No part of him wanted to get up and answer the door. 
More knocking and Ryan could hear the old wooden door creak with each insistent pounding from the woman on the other side of the door.
Knowing she just might pound the door in, Ryan reluctantly pushed himself up and rested against the plaster wall.
“Who is it?” Ryan called out to appease Sheri. The knocking stopped.
“Open up, Ryan,” she insisted. “I don’t want to be alone. I brought champagne.”
An old impulse long forgotten brought momentary pleasure, then subsided as Sheri pounded on the door, this time with her bottle. 
“You know I don’t drink,” he called out. 
“Open the door, Ryan,” she demanded. There was a moment of silence. The sound of the bottle hitting the floor was followed by a thud as Sheri fell along with it.
“I just want to talk,” she whined. There was more silence. The thought that Sheri might fall asleep at his door was something he had not considered.
Careful to not make a sound, Ryan heard whimpering, and then the soft, gentle knocks of a desperate woman.
Muttering profanity under his breath, Ryan pushed himself up and stomped across the wooden floor in his bare feet.
Realizing he was only in his underwear, Ryan grabbed a robe, reconsidered, then grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a shirt, and kept muttering as he put them on.
Taking a deep breath, he put his ear to the door and waited. Soft knocks rattled the worn door and he backed away.
Turning the bolt, he heard Sheri scramble for the bottle. Turning the knob on the handle, Ryan braced for the impact of Sheri.
“Oh, Ryan,” Sheri moaned as the door gave way and she stumbled into the room. Confused for a moment, she turned and lit up when she saw Ryan behind the door still holding the handle. 
Grabbing his arm, Sheri stammered and sputtered and laughed as the empty champagne bottle hit the floor and rolled toward the recliner.
“I am very tired, Sheri,” Ryan informed the inebriated woman clinging to him. Hands that were intent on caressing him suddenly stopped their endeavor and Sheri pushed herself from Ryan and stood glaring at him in her thin robe exposing the even more transparent lingerie beneath.
“Now that my father’s dead, you don’t have to be nice to me?” she threatened as she swayed on her stiletto black heels. 
Yes, yes he did, which was why he had opened the door.
“We buried your father today, Sheri,” Ryan said firmly. 
At first, Ryan thought she was going to lunge at him, strike him down, and make him pay for not complying with her demands.
A sparkle. Like a star in the dark sky, Ryan saw a sparkle on her cheek as the lamplight from outside was reflected in a single tear rolling down her cheek. 
“Yes, we did,” she whispered. As the tear reached her lip, it was diverted from her mouth as her lips rose to form a ghastly grin as she had a moment of undiluted clarity.
Looking straight in his eyes, Sheri agreed. “He’s gone,” she said. “He’s gone and this town is gone. You’re all gone.” 
Standing as stiff as the door he was leaning against, Ryan could feel his heart pounding against his aching chest.
Just as quickly as the smile had appeared, Sheri stumbled on her own feet and fell over the arm of the recliner. A moment later, Ryan heard her laughing as if they were having a good time.
“This chair is comfortable,” Sheri remarked as she sat upright in the chair and pushed back into the reclining position. Standing by the door in the dark, Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about her threat. 
“I am so tired,” Sheri declared. “It’s so unbearable here,” she rattled on, her voice becoming fainter as she continued on about the dust and the old hotel until her voice trailed off.
Soon, Ryan heard the steady breathing of a peaceful sleep and he released his grip on the door. 
The floor creaked with his first step, but Ryan stepped quickly around the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. The concrete was cool on his bare feet and he wished he had thought to put on his shoes, but he wasn’t going back. Not while Sheri was sleeping in his room.
Walking toward the end of the sidewalk, Ryan didn’t know where he was going but he felt the urge to keep moving, to keep getting farther away from the threat that loomed over the town.
Stepping on a rock, Ryan winced and realized he was walking on the desert floor, the slope leading up to Howard’s grave before him.
On many nights, Ryan found himself walking toward the old hotel on a visit to Howard sitting on his rocker on the porch.
On warm nights, they would rock on the porch drinking iced tea from stained coffee mugs while looking out over the town.
Turning toward town, Ryan saw the lights up at the old hotel. 
Howard did not live there anymore. 
Climbing the slope, enduring the pain as he stumbled over the rocks, Ryan made his way to the mound that now housed his old friend.
Looking out over the town on the moonless night, Ryan wondered how long before he had to move on. 
This was his world. Now it was going to be destroyed. Again.
“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, Howard,” Ryan said to the mound. “I never got to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for everyone.”
It had been a very long day. 
Sitting on the ground, feet covered in dust, Ryan remembered that night four years earlier and time collapsed, as if the four years between that night when he first met Howard to the moment Sheri announced her plans to sell the town were just a week apart. 
Unprepared. Homeless. It was something that had kept him up at night, but as long as he saw the light on at the old hotel, he didn’t have to worry about confronting the life he had left behind.
There had been no promise from Howard that any of them would be safe in their homes if he ever passed away.
After all, Howard was so much younger than Nelson, Mrs. Hargate and Grace. At only 66, Howard wasn’t a young man, but he could have been a son to any of them.
Anyone but Ryan. To everyone else, Ryan was a kid, a grandson. Ryan was someone who was young enough to move on. 
Young enough, but not yet strong enough. For the first time in a long time, Ryan felt nauseous.
It was very late and a soft glow from the east reminded him that no matter what, time didn’t stop. It kept nudging everyone forward. 
Soon, Ryan would have to leave the sanctuary of Golden Peaks. The clock had started ticking again. 
It would have been nice to be an old woman who believed in signs, in golden crosses emblazoned on lonely desert roads.
There was some comfort believing in a bright future when all your hopes were buried in the dark below the ground.

CHAPTER 2

Seven chairs surrounded two laminate tables in the old diner. Old menus were used to steady the uneven metal legs. Photos of happy people who had stumbled onto the diner and town from years earlier were as faded as the memories.
The lawyer sat at one end of the tables with his deflated, worn, brown leather briefcase surrounded by piles of folders and a thick envelope.
In preparation for the meeting, Ryan had washed the dust-streaked windows and the afternoon sun shone bright through the clear glass.
A slight breeze blew in fresh air but it was still like sitting next to an open, heated oven. Little drops of condensation frosted the glasses of ice water Ryan had set out for the meeting.
“I’m going to make this quick,” the lawyer said while soaking his handkerchief with the sweat from his puffy cheeks and bald, freckled head. 
“I don’t know why we couldn’t just do this in your office in the city,” Sheri complained from her chair next to the lawyer. Although she was wearing black to remind everyone her father had died, the deep V-neck of her lace top also reminded everyone she was very much alive.
When Sheri realized she might have competition for her father’s estate, she had called her friends to offer her support.
In three days, a dozen strangers had arrived and there was non-stop partying up at the old hotel. The lawyer had rebuffed her attempt to have friends present.
Instead, they stood outside on the sidewalk and their muffled merriment and conversation drifted through the open door.
One of her gentlemen friends had placed his long jacket over her torn vinyl chair to protect her from the “squalid” conditions.
Sitting quietly around the table, Mrs. Hargate, Nelson and Grace knew it was better to stay quiet. At the other end of the table, Ryan sat with his clenched fists resting on the cracked laminate while the ice-cold rivulets of condensation reminded him of pictures of cold, blue glaciers. Just thinking about cold, blue glaciers made him feel cooler. 
The empty chair to his right unnerved him because he felt the urge to turn his head at every noise in the event the mystery guest was arriving. 
“I have called you all here today at the request of Howard Edward Thornbon,” he said and there was a calculated whimper from Sheri.
Ignoring her, the lawyer took a deep breath, slowly ripped open the thick envelope and pulled out a document. Without ceremony, he read from the will.
“I Howard Edward Thornbon ...” droned the lawyer to the backdrop of the voices coming from the sidewalk and the sun starting to sear the very air they were breathing.
“To my daughter Ansherina,” Ryan heard and Sheri blurted, “About time.” 
“I leave the Tudor on North Peaksville ...” a dozen other properties were read by the lawyer, “and access to the Trust established in her name and active at the time of my death.” 
It was as if Sheri were on pause as she waited for more details, but the lawyer turned the page of the document and droned on.
“As for the property known as Golden Peaks, I leave ...” then he droned on about parcel numbers and coordinates. Even though he could hear the labored breath of the others, Ryan knew the heat was nothing compared to the fate awaiting them in the next part of the will. 
As the lawyer read their names, each octogenarian sat straight and focused on the lawyer’s words. Watching Grace’s chest rise and fall quickly, Ryan wondered if this was too much excitement and heat for her and the others to endure.
When the lawyer said his name, Ryan grabbed the cold, icy, wet glass and found that he was finding it hard to breathe as well.
As the lawyer droned on through all the legalese, Ryan heard the only part that mattered: “right to reside as routine for the length of their natural lives.”
A precious tear started to roll down Grace’s cheek, but was quickly absorbed in the deep, dehydrated crevices of her cheek.
No matter what else the lawyer said, they all knew this would be their final resting place. 
Nelson shakily reached for his water but was startled when the glass tilted and teetered. 
“What!” Sheri yelled as her fist hit the rocky table. Standing in disgust, Sheri did not want to hear anything else. “They don’t deserve anything. He was MY father,” Sheri boomed.
It was suddenly quiet outside and shadows darkened the room. Without turning, Ryan knew the people who had come to support Sheri had been ready for this eventuality.
It was a dozen, young, healthy strangers against three old people who could barely stand without getting winded. Taking a deep breath, Ryan absorbed the situation and prepared to react.
“Is there a problem here?” a deep, low voice came from the sidewalk. The room brightened again and the sound of heavy footsteps entered the room.
Nodding to the man, the lawyer put down the will and dabbed at his perspiring head.
“Thank you Sheriff Christopher,” the lawyer said. While the octogenarians looked in awe at the sheriff, Ryan slowly let out a long, tense breath. This reaction from Sheri had been anticipated.
Fist still on the table, Sheri stood in mid rant. Assessing the situation, Sheri looked at the sheriff, then glared at the others at the table and gradually lowered herself on the chair. 
Clearing his throat, the lawyer continued. What he read next astonished everyone.
“As for the real property known as Golden Peaks ...” he droned and read more parcels and coordinates while everyone waited for this final announcement.
Seething, each breath became a low growl as Sheri focused her anger toward the lawyer. It was evident she would explode when the beneficiary was named.
Shifting from his post by the door, the sheriff’s presence was as palpable as the heated air they were breathing.
“... I leave to the kin of Ms. Honey Hallowell ...” and then Sheri stood and smashed both her fists on the table, the red in her face muted only by the layer of expertly applied makeup.
“What the hell does that mean?” Sheri screamed. If Ryan felt his own heart stop, he knew this was not good for the health of the others sitting at the table.
Before he could react, the room shook as the sheriff quickly walked across the cracked linoleum and stood between Sheri and everyone else.
“I think this is a good time to end this proceeding,” the sheriff declared. “Don’t you?” he said when the lawyer started to protest. 
“Yes,” the lawyer conceded as he tucked the will in his briefcase and started packing all the other documents.
This did not deter Sheri. 
“That’s not his real will,” Sheri objected in a loud shriek. “Sheriff, stop him, my father would never have left anything to these people,” she sneered as she pointed at each person left at the table. 
“Calm down, Ms. Thornbon,” the sheriff said in a very calm voice. “I think it’s time for you to go home now.”
As the sheriff reached for her arm to lead her out, Sheri stepped back and tripped over her chair. 
“Don’t you touch me!” she yelled as the sheriff tried to help her up. “You should be taking him in!” she yelled pointing at the lawyer and wiping the dust from her miniskirt. 
It was a good time to leave. Standing quickly, Ryan nodded to the others. The only problem was that it wasn’t so easy for people over eighty to just get up and leave, but it seemed as if they moved with lightning speed to Ryan.
With barely a moan, Nelson pushed himself up with his cane while supporting himself on the table. Pulling Grace’s wheelchair from the table, Ryan led them out while the sheriff tried to calm Sheri. 
Strange faces peered through the open door of the diner but kept their distance. One sheriff was enough to keep the peace.
Quietly, the strangers stepped off the sidewalk to let them pass. Nobody wanted to get poked by Grace’s metal cane held out in front of her like the sword of a charging army general. 
At the end of the block, they turned the corner where the minivan was waiting. It was only a couple hundred yards to the trailers, but that was miles to people who could only walk comfortably a few steps at a time.
Turning on the AC, Ryan waited for the minivan to get cold before he pulled away and headed for the trailers. 
When they arrived, Nelson urged Ryan to keep driving.
“I think this is a cause for celebration,” Nelson declared weakly. “Maybe we should head to Hamptonville.”
From the rearview mirror, Ryan saw the wistful yearning from the others, but just the proclamation was enough celebration.
“Sounds nice, Nelson, I think I’ll go pick up something for the occasion,” Ryan offered. 
“That’s nice, Ryan,” Mrs. Hargate grunted. Sluggish and dehydrated, all motivation was sucked dry knowing they would have to leave the cool minivan to get to the safety of the trailers.
Still reeling from the revelations in the will, Ryan took the initiative and got out of the driver’s seat to help the others into their trailers.
Heading to Hamptonville, Ryan went through the list in his head. In addition to picking up medications from the pharmacy, there was a trip to the grocery store for ice cream, then takeout from the diner. 
When he walked inside Grant’s Diner, Ryan waited for his order by the hostess desk and looked around the restaurant.
At one time, the diner in Golden Peaks looked just like Grant’s Diner. Shiny checkerboard linoleum, vinyl chairs, laminate tables. People.
The life of a small town rested on that first domino.
Just knock down that first tile, take away one industry, take away one paycheck, and it was only a matter of time before the life drained from a somewhat vibrant town.
Golden Peaks had lost its life long before the life had drained from Howard Edward Thornbon.
Now, Golden Peaks would have a new owner. Legally, Ryan and the others would be welcome to stay, but there was no guarantee what their town would look like once the new owner took over. 
As he drove back to the trailers, as the rotted buildings of the town came in view, Ryan realized the only thing a new owner could do was either leave it standing until the dust returned the town to the earth or just about anything else.
Golden Peaks was already dead. Maybe it would be merciful to put its remains in the ground with Howard. 
When he got back to the trailers, Ryan checked in on the octogenarians, but the celebration had turned to quiet slumber. It had been a very exciting day.
Leaving the groceries and medications each person had requested, Ryan headed back to the General Store in the shadow of the setting sun. 
Taking the back stairs of the General Store, Ryan opened the loft door and quickly pulled it closed again. The silhouette of Sheri standing at his window, staring up at the old hotel, had startled him.
The road had been empty when he returned to town, but he hadn’t checked to see if Sheri’s car was at the old hotel.
As he quickly went back down the stairs, he heard quick tacking heel steps as Sheri raced across the wooden floor after him.
“Ryan,” she commanded from the top of the stairs. Stopping, Ryan knew it was best to just obey her command. The will had made her furious. When she exploded, there was nowhere he could hide to come out of this unscathed.
Groaning, Ryan turned and looked up at the woman. One hand on her hip, Sheri motioned for him to follow her with the other. Turning, Sheri returned to the loft and Ryan followed, closing the door behind him and resting against its weak frame.
With her back to him, Sheri stared out the window and up at the old hotel. In silhouette, in the shadow of the setting sun, Sheri was a stunning vision.
Soft blonde hair cascaded down her back and gently swayed at her waist before attention was drawn to her long, sculpted legs.
Faceless, Sheri was every man’s fantasy. Those desires had long drained from Ryan, but he did perk up the first time Howard introduced her. 
Getting out of her convertible, white blouse blowing in the warm breeze, stiletto heels digging into the dirt, Sheri was stunning.
Sitting on the porch with Howard, a glass of tea in his hands, Ryan admired respectfully as the sexy daughter of his friend approached. 
Then she opened her mouth. 
From that moment on, there wasn’t a dress tight enough, a shirt that could show enough cleavage, where he could look at Sheri and think she was attractive in any way. 
In her view, though, no man could resist her. She mistook Ryan’s distance for aloofness and that had only made the woman more intent on changing his mind, owning his soul.
“I’m going to fight this, Ryan,” Sheri declared. “They don’t deserve to live off my father anymore. They took advantage of my father. The kin ...” she muttered.
Flinching, Ryan rolled his eyes.
He knew this would be her new mission, where Sheri would train her searing focus.
Turning, Sheri faced Ryan and he was grateful he couldn’t see her face in the shadows. Walking closer, Sheri took his eyes hostage.
When he first looked into her eyes, he wondered how Howard could have produced such an attractive woman.
Now, Ryan wondered why he couldn’t see any of Howard’s twinkle, charm or sense of humor in her hypnotic cobra gaze.
“I’m going to find those people,” Sheri explained satisfied with her plan. “I’m going to find them and I am going to destroy them.”
As much as he wanted to shake his head, Ryan knew it was best to stay still until she lost interest in him. This plan was rising in the fury of her intense gaze.
Carefully, moving as few muscles as possible, Ryan twisted the knob on the door. While Sheri was contemplating her plan, Ryan slowly slid his left foot forward and pulled the door until it was open a crack. 
Through the open crack, he heard strangers partying on the sidewalk below. 
Now, Sheri was in a trance, and Ryan continued forward until the door was wide enough for Sheri to exit. 
They heard someone call her name faintly in the distance. In her eyes, Ryan saw that she had come back from her reverie.
Attention focused on Ryan, Sheri leaned in close and gently placed her hands on the lapels of his jacket. Looking up at him, Sheri made him a promise.
“When I find them, first I am going to destroy them,” she vowed. “Then I am going to have each one of those leeches put in homes.”
With that, Sheri straightened up, smoothed down her miniskirt, and brushed Ryan’s arm as he pulled open the door.
Listening to the tick tack tick tack of her heels on the creaky stairs, Ryan was both relieved and tormented at the same time. Closing the door, Ryan locked it. 
Standing in front of the window facing the road, Ryan watched as a cheer went up when Sheri emerged from the building, and they headed up the sidewalk to the path that led to the old hotel.
A dozen revelers followed, men and women, laughing and cheering as they went up the slope. A victory parade for losers.
Pangs of hot pierces, they had been getting sharper and stronger all day. First a pain in the back of his eyes, now a twisting in his gut. 
For days it had been building. Now the piercing cascaded through his skull and Ryan collapsed in his recliner. 
Exhausted, Ryan started to drift, the overwhelming throbbing lulling him with each painful wave, further and further from the sanctuary of peace he had know for four years, and closer and closer toward that which he had hoped to never return.

CHAPTER 3

When Ryan woke the next afternoon, he noticed that it was very quiet. It took all of his effort to get out of the soft, worn recliner.
As he stood, the throbbing was awakened as well and he groaned as he walked across the room holding onto the dining table chairs for support until he reached his bed.
Kneeling on the soft comforter, Ryan squinted against the light that blazed in the afternoon sky. Looking up, the light piercing his skull through his eyes, Ryan blinked a few times. 
All the cars were gone. Even the white convertible. A long moan escaped as the pressure released from his gut and Ryan groaned as he dropped onto his back and rubbed his palms into his eye sockets.
It was the same desert heat. It was the same place under the sun as it was just a few days earlier, but Ryan knew that all his days before evaporated the moment Howard took his last breath.
Until Sheri either tracked down the rival to the estate or forgot all about her vendetta over a dead desert town, Ryan was still responsible for his friends who needed someone to make sure they were comfortable through the turbulent desert seasons of flood and heat and icy winters, which were slightly more tolerable than Sheri’s vengeance and fury.
As he started his day, white T-shirt over worn jeans, Ryan made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t worry the others with Sheri’s plans. Of course, that is all they were thinking about.
“Do you think she will get her way?” Mrs. Hargate asked.
Under the tarp on the cracked concrete deck decorated with aluminum chairs covered with faded floral cushions, Mrs. Hargate was pouring cold water in mismatched tall glasses.
“Thank you,” he said as he accepted the glass and gratefully sipped the cold water. The arms of the chair were hot so he carefully held his arms to his chest and contemplated how he would allay their fears.
Turning cards carefully on his game of solitaire, Nelson didn’t seem to care. When Mrs. Hargate asked the question, Ryan noticed Nelson hadn’t made another move even though Ryan could see the elderly man had three easy plays on the table in front of him.
“I think she’s really angry right now,” Ryan said.
“She’s always angry,” Grace corrected him, and Mrs. Hargate laughed as she plopped in her cushioned chair and a poof of dust shot up and the women waved the whirls away. 
“Do you think she can do it?” Nelson asked.
It wasn’t just a possibility, it was going to be her mission.
“All I know is that she’s been here about twenty times in the last four years,” Ryan said, not really answering the question. It was too hot one quarter of the year and too cold for another quarter of the year, but it was always barren and dusty.
Except to check in on her father to make sure he was alive and hadn’t died without her knowledge, Sheri did not like being in Golden Peaks.
“That’s not answering the question,” Nelson said, making one of his three moves.
“She’ll try,” Ryan stated. “But it’s going to be a battle she’ll wage elsewhere.”
“You got that right,” Nelson laughed and that seemed to put them all at ease. Nelson made the last two easy moves and Ryan knew that was what they had hoped to hear.
For a month, nothing changed. Then the minivan started coughing and choking. Opening the garage, Ryan put on his old overalls and started tinkering in no real hurry to figure out the problem.
On Friday he would need the minivan to take Nelson to a doctor’s appointment, but other than that, it would sit in the garage until Ryan figured out the reason for the noise. 
Taking a break, Ryan grabbed a can of soda from the General Store and headed up to the empty old hotel.
Knocking gently on the door, Ryan turned the handle. The door opened. 
The old hotel was not closed to Ryan who had an open invitation from Howard. The old hotel did not belong to Howard anymore. 
Leaving the door open, Ryan stepped into the ballroom.
At one time it had been a beautiful old hotel.
One foot on the hardwood floor and Ryan brought it to life again, swirling, turning, jumping, and dipping to the music in his head. 
Howard didn’t mind letting Ryan get out his tension on the ballroom floor, because he would be sitting on the porch staring off to the west.
Until the sweat soaked his shirt, Ryan danced with an imaginary partner then stepped back out of the room.
Showering back at the loft, Ryan returned to the garage.
It was rare, but sometimes someone got lost and there was always a few snacks and drinks available while he filled a tank of gas.
There were no real hours of operation. It wasn’t a real job or a real business. It just filled the days between trips to the city and hanging out with his neighbors.
Sitting and relaxing, Ryan looked down the road.
Through the dust, he saw a white figure and soon someone was walking casually up the sidewalk. 
Curious, but not eager to walk in the heavy heat, Ryan watched to see who was headed his way. For a while, he didn’t see anything but a mirage.
Peeking in the windows, the person assessed the town. From where he sat, Ryan thought he saw the person attach something to a post at the end of the sidewalk.
Walking back and forth across the old road from one deserted building to another, the person was stapling papers on posts while touring the town. 
Standing, Ryan thought he should inform the person that Golden Peaks wasn’t a tourist town.
Unaware anybody else was around, the person kept peeking and posting. As he looked closer, Ryan noticed it was a woman in a loose-fitting white dress and a white large-brimmed sun hat. 
“Hello,” Ryan said as he stood and watched the woman staple another paper to a wooden post. “Are you lost?”
Startled, the woman turned toward him. The bright sun filtered through the brim of her hat like a circle of light above her head. The expression on her face went from startled to smiling all in one expression.
“Hi there,” she said. “I’m just posting some fliers. Would you like one?”
Shrugging, Ryan accepted one of the papers from the stack in her hand. A few others escaped and he tried to catch them while the woman laughed.
“That’s alright,” she said, bending and putting the stapler on the ground while she gathered the fliers. Then she was up again, the same friendly smile on her face beamed from her hazel eyes. “My shoes are sticking to the road it’s so hot.”
Not sure what to say, Ryan looked at the flier.
GOLDEN PEAKS … DESERT DAYS
“I’m sorry, but you must have the wrong place,” Ryan informed her. From smiling to amusement, this did not deter the woman.
“I’m sure this is the place,” she said. 
“I’ve been here for four years and I’ve never seen any festival of any kind,” he said. “No festival of any kind. This place hasn’t seen more than a few dozen people at a time in years.”
“Well, there will be hundreds of people,” she announced. “It’s a good boost for the town. You may be able to make a few extra bucks. Thirsty tourists.”
“Have you gotten the permission of the new owner?” Ryan asked. This woman was resolute. Her smile was friendly, but she was confident.
“It’s all been taken care of,” she said. “Tell everyone to be there,” she said, “It’s going to be lots of fun.”
Before she turned and left, leaving Ryan just standing holding the flier and all his useless protests, the expression in her eyes changed effortlessly from confidence to mischievous and back to friendly.
Blinking, Ryan wasn’t sure why that look startled him. Walking away, a chipper bounce in her step, the woman hummed some tune as she headed back to her vehicle.
Still standing on the sidewalk, Ryan watched as the red streak of a racing car zipped through a cloud of dust and away up the road toward Hamptonville.
Turning, Ryan walked toward the trailers to show the flier to the others. Sitting under the tarp, they waved to Ryan and offered him a glass of cold water as he sat down.
“Thank you,” he said, accepting the glass from Mrs. Hargate.
“Somebody get lost again,” Nelson said, pointing to the dust from the car fading into the sky. 
“It’s not Sheri, is it,” Mrs. Hargate fretted in her gruff manner. 
“No,” Ryan said and handed the flier to Mrs. Hargate. Holding the paper far from her eyes, she read the flier aloud.
“Golden Peaks Desert Days.” She paused and then laughed. “Is this a joke?”
Looking up from his game, Nelson snatched the flier from her.
“I was reading that,” Mrs. Hargate protested. Putting on his glasses, Nelson read the flier to himself.
Leaning toward the flier, Grace tried to read the paper as Nelson summed it up. “There’s going to be an event here!” 
“What?” Grace exclaimed. Then she thought about the news. “Isn’t that exciting,” Grace said, clasping her hands together at the thought.
“Is this a mistake?” Nelson asked as he handed the paper to Grace who looked at it, even though she couldn’t see the details.
Shrugging, Ryan drank his water. “The woman who handed it to me was posting them all over town like it was going to happen.”
“This town?” Nelson asked.
Shrugging again, Ryan told him what he knew. “I asked if she had the right town and she seemed to think she did.”
“What will Sheri say about this?” Mrs. Hargate asked in almost a whisper. 
“She said she had the owner’s permission,” Ryan said, trying to allay their fears. 
“Well, I think it’s going to be fun,” Grace stated and waved her hands in anticipation.
“We’ll see,” Nelson said, going back to his card game.
“I’ve got to get back to the garage,” Ryan announced as he set his glass on the table.
“Will you be back for dinner?” Mrs. Hargate asked. “I’m making sandwiches for everyone.”
There was a groan from Nelson. “Sandwiches again?”
“When you cook you can make anything you want,” Mrs. Hargate admonished the elderly man.
“Sounds good,” Ryan said, “see you tonight. Keep cool.”
“Thanks, Ryan,” Grace sang as he left. 
Walking back to the garage, Ryan looked toward the road where the woman had sped away. Shaking his head, Ryan couldn’t imagine anything of interest happening in the old town except the new owner bulldozing the place before selling it for dinner money.

CHAPTER 4

Humming. There were some sounds Ryan had gotten used to since he left the city. The steady humming of insects that vibrated through the barrage of heat radiating like steam from the earth like the spirit of a rainbow.
Rustling. Dust lightly brushing the sides of the decaying wood buildings, wind through the spiky, sluggish branches of limp desert shrubs.
Skittering. Small, dusty creatures racing to the sanctuary of shadows.
Humming and rustling and skittering.
This was the music that lulled Ryan to sleep, kept a steady rhythm to the passing of the days. 
Whirring, grinding, beeping.
These were the sounds from his former life. In that moment, when the veil of languid dreams began to rise, Ryan thought he was back in his apartment on Second Street. Stifling heat quickly reminded him he was not in his apartment overlooking the marina.
Sitting up, Ryan squinted at the bright morning sun and sat listening to understand what he was hearing.
Whirring. The sound of a machine generator.
Grinding. The sound of tools gnawing through wood.
Beeping. The sound of trucks, lot of trucks, moving around.
None of this added up to anything he understood in this setting.
Getting off his bed quickly, Ryan grabbed his jeans from the recliner, grabbed his shirt from the coat hook, and hopped along the room putting on his clothes and shoes as he headed through the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk.
Covering his eyes, Ryan moaned as the bright sunlight gouged his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Ryan adjusted to the light and opened his eyes.
What he saw was not far from his dream. The main road through town looked like any busy city during street construction. Orange cones, yellow caution tape, trucks and exhaust, and workers in hard-hats and orange vests with yellow reflectors. 
A searing breeze stung his dry eyes and reminded him that he was still in Golden Peaks.
A man in a hard-hat was directing the whole cacophonous symphony with a clipboard in one hand and a mobile phone in the other.
Approaching, Ryan was careful of the boxes of building materials. Steering clear of lumber, Ryan almost tripped over a box of tile.
“Careful there,” the conductor of the construction yelled over the noise as he noticed Ryan. “Where’s your hat and vest?”
Stopping, Ryan waited for the man to approach. Stern and irritated, the older man pointed at Ryan.
“Everybody’s supposed to have a hat and safety vest,” the man said loudly as he approached.
Pointing to his own chest, Ryan shook his head. 
“I live here,” Ryan yelled loud enough to be heard. A headache had taken over and he just wanted all the noise to cease.
Heat from the sun pounded his head, air scorched his skin, machine sounds drilled into his ears and through his skull. “What’s going on here?”
Confused for a moment, the man looked at his clipboard.
“Live here?” he asked mostly to himself. The phone beeped. “Sam, I thought we secured ...”
Static responded and the man grunted.
“You should have gotten notice,” the man shrugged. “We’re bringing the buildings up to code, safety concerns,” the man explained.
Many thoughts and questions swirled in his aching head, and Ryan just wanted to know how long it would take.
“We are scheduled to be through in thirty days,” the man said as he conferred with his clipboard.
“Thanks,” Ryan yelled. Turning, Ryan left the man to continue maintaining control of the chaos. Walking quickly back to the loft, Ryan packed his belongings into a duffel bag and headed down the back stairs and out the alley toward the trailers.
Standing in front of the trailers, Ryan was greeted by three very curious octogenarians.
“What’s going on?” Grace asked with concern that wrinkled her normally smooth forehead.
Shrugging, Ryan told him what he knew.
“They’ll be bringing the place up to code and they should be done in thirty days,” Ryan informed them. “I think I’m homeless until then.”
“What?” Grace stuttered, a glimpse of excitement in her foggy eyes. 
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Mrs. Hargate growled. “We’ll work something out,” she said and her muttering followed her as she walked away from all the action.
Patting him on the back, Nelson didn’t say anything. Turning, Nelson followed Mrs. Hargate. Adjusting the duffel bag over his shoulder, Ryan took hold of the wheelchair.
“Do you want some cold water, Grace?” he asked.
“I can’t wait to see what they do,” Grace babbled to herself and Ryan grunted as he wheeled the chair over to the deck.
Through many protests, Ryan finally relented when Mrs. Hargate announced she would stay with Grace and Ryan would take her trailer.
“I don’t want to hear another word,” Mrs. Hargate said and then supervised Ryan as he moved her belongings to Grace’s trailer.
Dinner was tense as they all voiced their deepest fears about what the changes would bring. It was something Ryan had considered as he packed his duffel bag.
Everything he owned, Ryan had tucked in the bag. There was no guarantee he would be returning to the loft he had slept in for almost four years.
Leaving his duffel bag open on the seat that doubled as the trailer’s couch and table chairs, Ryan had access to everything he needed in the world.
In the twenty steps it took to walk the length of the trailer, the duffel bag was not overwhelmed by its surroundings. If he had to live in the trailer, Ryan knew he would be comfortable.
Whirring, grinding and beeping continued throughout the day and just as the sun started its descent, at exactly 6 p.m., the whirring and grinding and beeping came to a halt. An exasperated breath escaped Ryan as he released all the aching in his head. 
Sleep came easily as the throbbing in his skull lulled him in the strange surroundings. 
By the next morning, a tarp-covered fence had been placed around the property.
Boards were ripped from the buildings. The last building on the northeast side was torn down. The old hotel was getting a makeover as well.
Driving Nelson, Mrs. Hargate and Grace to their doctor’s appointments and errands in Hamptonville was a comforting reminder to Ryan that not everything had changed.
Thirty days passed. And another five.

CHAPTER 5

Twisting. It was a feeling in his gut Ryan noticed getting tighter every day since Howard passed away. 
The fences had been removed the night before, so when Ryan woke to the usual humming, rustling and skittering, he got up quickly, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, and left the trailer to see the results.
On his way to the main road he was met by the supervisor he had met on the first day.
Slowing as the man approached, Ryan waited for the man to acknowledge him.
“Hi there,” the man said, waving with his clipboard. “Just came out to inform you we’re just finishing up and should be out of here by the afternoon.”
When he realized the man was waiting for a response, Ryan blurted out a question.
All that he could muster was a long “sooooo...” that he hoped would cover all his concerns. The man could decipher incoherent questions.
“You can go back now,” the man said and then he handed Ryan a business card from his pocket.
“See anything that we missed,” the man said, “give us a call.” Nodding to Ryan, the top of his cap wet with sweat, the man turned and walked back to town.
Watching as the man turned the corner, Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to follow.
In corporate America, any sort of restructuring always came with the promise of change but an unspoken uncertainty of the future. 
Restructuring had come to Golden Peaks. Although Ryan and the others had been promised they could remain in town, there was no promise where and how they would live.
The new owner might have plans for the General Store that didn’t include a freeloading tenant on the top floor loft.
Holding the card in his hand, Ryan wasn’t sure how to proceed. 
A flurry of dust from the north meant there were more people arriving. 
Turning, Ryan headed back to the trailers to inform the others.
Waiting for them on the deck, Ryan wasn’t hungry or thirsty or hot or anything. There was no guide to tell them what these new changes represented.
Nelson joined them, then Mrs. Hargate popped her head out.
“Eggs or oatmeal?” she snapped. Each day brought more irritation to the gruff woman. 
“Eggs,” Nelson grunted back.
Sitting in silence, the men waited and when Mrs. Hargate informed them she was ready, Ryan pulled his sweaty self from the chair and helped Grace onto the deck. Eating in silence, Ryan could hear all of their unspoken questions.
“Let’s go!” Grace cheered as the plates were taken away.
The slow parade made its way to the main road. Ryan pushed Grace over the uneven ground, Nelson and Mrs. Hargate following, their canes pounding in the dirt like drums for a funeral march.
The worn, rotting wood on the backs of the buildings had been replaced with new boards and a dark coat of stain.
There were no substantial changes from the back. The road view, however, revealed that the town Ryan had known was gone forever.
Pushing Grace from the dirt road to the main road, Ryan noticed that Grace’s wheelchair rolled smoothly as it was pushed up onto the paved road.
There he stopped and waited for Nelson and Mrs. Hargate to join them. Standing on the road, the four were introduced to their new world.
This was the Golden Peaks of a different time, when people roamed the sidewalks, when businesses stood open, when it was alive.
Like a mouth missing a front tooth, one of the interior buildings had been torn down across from the General Store.
The remaining buildings were now painted beauties with frilly awnings and bright doors open wide.
“Let’s see the rest!” Grace begged and Ryan was prompted to push her across the painted crosswalk.
A crosswalk.
A car approached and Nelson pointed his cane for the slowing car to yield to them. 
Pushing Grace up the ramp to the sidewalk, Ryan didn’t have to strain as the wheelchair rode smoothly over the newly poured concrete.
The garage was a stand-alone structure with the vacant lot marked for parking. There were two cars parked in the lot.
From the sidewalk, Ryan could see the other side of town. The General Store looked just like it did in the old black and white photos in the diner.
The diner was painted a fresh coat of white with red and white awnings. A painted DINER sign swung in the wind.
HOWARD’S DINER was painted brightly on the newly replaced windows. The other building at the end had been cleaned up and repainted. 
Busy men and women darted in and out of the buildings along both sides of the road oblivious to the four strangers to this new town.
“Yes,” a woman said on her cell phone as she stopped and stared at them. “I see them here.” As the woman looked at them and held a conversation with someone on her phone, Ryan slowed to a stop hoping the woman would be able to explain their new role in this new land.
“I’ll call you when I get them settled,” the woman said. “Yes. Thursday,” the woman said and then looked at her phone before acknowledging them.
“Are you Nelson, Mrs. Hargate, Ryan and Grace?”
“Yes, we are!” Grace cheered and clapped her hands. 
“Nice to meet you,” the woman said while looking at something on her phone. “If you wouldn’t mind following me,” the woman said. 
Something snapped in Ryan’s twisting gut and he swallowed the pain of all that would happen if they followed the woman. 
“Let’s go!” Grace urged as she leaned forward to propel the chair herself. Taking a deep breath, Ryan gave a worried look to the stoic Nelson as they followed the busy woman to the building next to the lot.
Urged on by a very excited Grace, Ryan was surprised as a cool breeze greeted them as they entered the open double doors to the building.
“Welcome to your new home,” the woman said but Ryan did not comprehend her words. The breath had been knocked from him and for a heartbeat, not one of them moved. Oblivious to their confusion, the woman continued.
“We were able to restructure the building for two downstairs suites. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms and then we can help you get situated.”
Not even Grace had a response to this new development.
There were more people in the lobby of the building than any of them had seen in the entire town in years.
“Go,” Grace whispered. Ryan pushed the wheelchair over the smooth, dark-stained hardwood floors.
“Now,” the woman said as they turned into a hallway with two open doors on the left, the sun lighting the path, “the largest room here,” the woman said, pointing to the first door, “is for the ladies. The second room for the gentleman,” the woman said as she walked to the other open door. 
Looking at each other, Ryan and Nelson were confused as to which gentleman would occupy the room. 
None of them moved. 
Sensing their hesitation, the woman turned and led them, with help from information on her phone.
“Nelson,” she said. As if under her command, Nelson stood as straight as he ever had and waited for the woman to finish her instructions. “Your room is here.” Nodding, Nelson hobbled toward the room as the others watched silently. 
Peeking in the room, Nelson looked back at them. Gritting his teeth, Ryan felt some tug in his chest as he watched a smile crack on Nelson’s sullen face. 
“Now,” the woman said as Nelson entered his bright room, “you ladies will be in this room.”
As the woman approached full of purpose, Ryan almost bumped into Mrs. Hargate as he stepped back pulling Grace in her wheelchair with him. Mrs. Hargate excused herself and allowed Ryan to pass.
The woman disappeared into the lit doorway and Ryan pulled the wheelchair beyond the door, then wheeled Grace into the bright room.
Hands covering her quivering mouth, Grace was speechless.
Pulling open the shades, the woman showed them the patio outside the French double-doors.
“There are misters out here,” the woman said as she opened the doors and let the cool sprinkles filter in with the heat. “Whew,” she said, pulling the doors closed again. “I’m sure you don’t want to go out there until it gets cooler.”
Busy fluffing pillows and directing workers to placement of furniture, the woman continued to talk as Ryan stepped aside.
Mrs. Hargate slowly entered the room and blended in with the floral wallpaper.
It was a clean room that looked exactly like it was decorated and lived in by two elderly women. Glass decorative dishes on a wooden coffee table in front of a floral stuffed couch and a wooden-backed rocking chair in the living area.
A cloth covered dining table with matching chairs and a buffet made up the dining room. An archway in the wall led to a kitchen. Two other doors led to the rooms.
“Tom and Brett will get you settled in,” the woman said, looked at her phone then focused her attention on Ryan.
“Ryan,” she said as she headed out the door, “follow me.” 
Without thinking, Ryan left the ladies to their new home and followed the woman who was led by whatever was on her phone. Catching up, Ryan wanted to ask her many questions, but they hadn’t formed yet.
Back in the heat, Ryan cringed as he adjusted and followed the woman as they crossed the road at another crosswalk.
Back on the other side, the woman made a right, took a quick look at work being done on the diner, then turned up the familiar stairs between the diner and General Store leading to the loft.
With heavy steps, Ryan followed the woman up the stairs. There was no creaking. Each footstep was met with a steady step. Amazed, Ryan carefully tested each step as it withstood his weight without fuss. 
Disappearing into the doorway, the woman did not wait for Ryan before informing him of his new surroundings.
“We didn’t make many changes to the layout,” Ryan heard as he stepped onto the landing and braced for what he would find beyond the door.
When he last left, Ryan had taken one last look. The loft was just an open space with a kitchenette, a three-piece bathroom, some dining and living room furniture and a bed. It was dark, even when the sun was shining bright through the south and west-facing windows. 
It had been home for almost four years.
Squeezing his eyes tight at the memory, Ryan slowly opened his eyes, his fists tight, and his senses on alert.
It was the brightness that caught his attention. Clean, bright blue walls met dark-stained hardwood floors. There was a bed beneath the windows. An actual bed with a headboard and footboard and a box-spring mattress.
“They had a little difficulty, but they were able to get a tub in the bathroom,” the woman said as she opened the bathroom door, “it’s nothing fancy, everything is new, the plumbing, the electrical.”
Turning, the woman watched Ryan’s reaction. 
His old recliner had been replaced with two newer leather recliners flanking a glass coffee table on an area rug with a square geometric print.
The kitchen had a microwave above an oven, a refrigerator and an island with a sink. There was even an appliance he had never seen before.
“That’s a European-style washer/dryer,” the woman explained as she placed a new set of keys on the island.
This was the loft of a single man in his thirties.
Looking down at her phone, the woman nodded her head.
“I know it’s been an abrupt change,” the woman said, finally taking a moment to speak directly to Ryan. Slipping her hand in her over-the-shoulder sack, the woman pulled out an envelope for Ryan.
“This should explain some things,” the woman said as she approached. Holding it out for Ryan, she waited until he accepted the letter.
Barely holding it in his fingers, the envelope drooped from the weight of its contents so Ryan took it firmly in both hands before it fell to the floor.
“My name is Stella,” the woman said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. Envelope firmly in his right hand, Ryan accepted the card and nodded as if he were mute.
“Hope you enjoy,” the woman said cheerfully, “see you at the event this weekend,” she informed Ryan. Nodding mindlessly, Ryan stood by the door as the woman left for another project as directed by her phone.
The weight of the day finally overwhelmed Ryan and he took a few steps to the recliner and dropped onto the soft leather.
Placing the envelope and business card on his lap, Ryan felt for the button to recline the seat. A motor whirred as he was lowered into a full reclining position.
A motorized recliner. It was something he had missed.
Cool air from a silent air conditioner in the clean, bright room stirred memories that bubbled slowly, frothed in a comfortable foam in his aching head.
It was barely noon and Ryan just wanted to take a very long nap. 
The contents of the envelope contained his every fear, sealed, stuffed with anxiety leaving little room on each side for a positive message.
A soft, warm breeze reminded him he had forgotten to close the door, and with a great groan, Ryan rolled himself over the arm of the recliner.
Stumbling to the door, he closed it. There was a deadbolt above the handle with a lock. Shrugging, Ryan dropped the envelope and card on the island then dropped back down on the recliner.
So many thoughts and fears and questions filled his head that he could not think about any one thing at all.
Before falling asleep, through drooping eyelids, Ryan saw something up the slope he had missed. There was a car parked in front of the old hotel. The old hotel as it must have looked when it first opened. 
Another question, another thought for his tired mind. As he slept, the questions and thoughts organized and Ryan woke extremely hungry.
There were oranges and apples in bowls on the countertop. Dragging himself from the recliner, Ryan noticed the room was bright, but the outside was getting dark. Looking up, Ryan saw track lighting. 
With a great groan, he stretched then stumbled over to the stools under the island. Apple in hand, Ryan looked at the stuffed envelope. Biting into the juicy, green apple, Ryan crossed his arms and munched as he decided when to open the envelope.
Rocking in the swivel stool, Ryan thought about his fears.
Obviously, the heir mentioned in Howard’s will had been tracked down. 
Obviously, the new owner had intended to honor the provision that he and the others would be allowed to stay in Golden Peaks.
What concerned Ryan was the manner in which the new owner had carried out these provisions. 
In his mind, Ryan could only put it in terms of a corporate takeover.
A new owner takes over. The new owner reassures everyone there will be restructuring, no major changes. The new owner fires the former leaders of the company. The new owner then makes more major changes after a waiting period.
This was the waiting period. This was the time when loyalties were tested.
Either accept the changes, or be forced out.
It was clever, if the new owner wanted to force them out.
There was nothing in the provision that stated how Ryan and the others would reside in Golden Peaks. The new owner could make conditions intolerable for all of them so that Ryan and the others would leave of their own free wills.
But why the new apartments, Ryan wondered as he munched on his apple.
Maybe the new owner wanted to lull them into complacency to get the blight of the trailers off the property. Then charge exorbitant rents.
That was what Ryan feared was in the package. Some sort of rules and a severance package if he didn’t like the new rules.
He hadn’t even met the new owner, and Ryan already didn’t like them.
Unable to handle the reality of whatever was in the envelope, Ryan decided he needed a walk. Pushing himself away from the island, Ryan dropped the apple core in the contemporary trashcan and took the back steps toward the trailers. 
Walking on the dirt road to the trailers, Ryan saw the minivan and realized he was just walking out of habit.
Making a left, he headed north toward the open road. A brisk walk turned into a jog that turned into a run. A run up the slope to Howard’s grave. Exhausted and dehydrated, Ryan turned and looked down on the town. 
The town was alive again. Howard was dead and the town was alive.
Shaking his head, Ryan looked over at the grave and he could still see Howard dead, slumped over the rocks not far from where he was buried.
In his view, there was something new.
Walking slowly up to the grave, there was a tall stone marker.
“HOWARD THORNBON … IN MEMORY.”
A tombstone had been erected at the head of the grave. A smile of gratitude involuntarily rose on his face and Ryan helped it into a joyful expression.
Breathing heavy, Ryan felt all the tension dissipate and he placed a hand on the tombstone. “Thank you, Howard,” Ryan said. “They’re very happy.”
Humming. Rustling. Skittering.
Satisfied he had respected his old friend, Ryan headed back to town. Walking along the road, Ryan saw a reflective green road sign.
“HOWARD WAY”
Smiling, Ryan visited Nelson who just sat in his chair with a serene look on his tired face. A man basking in his first moment of peace in a very long time.
There was no answer at Grace and Mrs. Hargate’s door, so Ryan decided to visit in the morning. It had been a tiring day for all of them.
As he walked up the road, Ryan realized he was whistling. Each step was a wonder. In the loft, Ryan was about to get undressed, but he realized people could potentially see him, so he went to the bathroom.
Walls had been moved to make it larger. The tub was small, but it cooled Ryan off so it didn’t matter. It was better than what he had before. At some point in his prior life, Ryan had better, but this was the best he had ever felt in a tub of any kind.
Rubbing down with a towel, Ryan realized he hadn’t brought his duffel bag from the trailer. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Ryan explored the open room. 
There was a dresser by the bed. So many things he had never imagined had happened, his brain had room for one more unexpected marvel.
Opening the top drawer of the stainless steel, contemporary dresser, Ryan was not surprised by the contents.
White T-shirts and boxers.
Socks in the second drawer.
Jeans in the last drawer.
Grabbing a pair of boxers, Ryan went to the privacy of the bathroom and was not surprised when they fit. 
Hanging his towel to dry, Ryan flipped off the light switch and went back into the main room, turned the lock on the front door handle, turned off the track lighting and went to bed.
The contents of the package would fill his tomorrow.

CHAPTER 6

Sitting in the ladies’ living room, a glass of tea at his side, Ryan summed up the contents of the envelope while the ladies and Nelson perused the pages in their hands.
“This person wants you to be a handyman?” Nelson asked.
“More like a manager,” Ryan shrugged. “Take care of the garage, General Store, make sure any and all maintenance issues and improvements are resolved. I have a contact at some property management office.”
“Does it say who the new owner is?” Grace asked. 
“No,” Ryan said, taking a drink of his tea. It was slightly sweetened, just as he remembered he liked it.
“Sounds suspicious to me,” Nelson said, “but we can have a lawyer look at it before we sign it.”
“What’s suspicious?” Grace lamented. “If we sign it, we can stay here for the rest of our lives, right, Ryan?”
“I think having a lawyer take a look at it won’t hurt,” Ryan suggested. “I’ll take you into town tomorrow and we’ll have it signed and notarized before the festival if everything is legal.”
“The festival,” Grace cheered shaking the paper in her hand. “I can’t wait for the festival.” Cringing, Ryan did not look forward to the event.
“I can,” Mrs. Hargate muttered. “Sounds like it’s going to be more noise and more people.” Ryan concurred silently in his mind.
“We should go now,” Nelson said. “Just to make sure this is all legal.”
He would never say it, but Ryan knew Nelson was just as concerned as he was about the stability of their new surroundings.
“Ladies?” Nelson asked.
“Let’s go!” Grace proclaimed.
Making a phone call, Ryan set an appointment in Hamptonville and slowly they made their way to the minivan in the parking lot.
At the senior center in Hamptonville, a lawyer sipped coffee at a portable table waiting for someone, anyone to request her pro bono services.
Perusing the document, the lawyer congratulated them for their good fortune, then walked with them across the street to the bank to get the document notarized.
Grace was exuberant, Mrs. Hargate silently grateful, but it was Nelson whom Ryan watched with fascination.
Always stoic and guarded, Nelson seemed to be in grateful disbelief when the worst-case scenarios he anticipated never materialized.
This heir was their savior. If anything went wrong, Ryan knew he was young enough to go into the world and make a living. There was no backup plan for Nelson and the ladies.
They were at the mercy of the younger generation, resentful of their youth and reluctantly grateful for their assistance.
Nelson would never admit he needed assistance, but he was grateful when it was offered.
At that moment the document was notarized, Ryan saw the tension lift from Nelson’s face and he swallowed the lump that rose in his own throat.
It was a joyous and heartbreaking moment. Something in Ryan was skeptical, a remnant of his former life shaped by his days working for a corporation.
Only Grace babbled on about the wonderful miracle and the sign of the golden cross. Everyone wanted to be as innocent and full of faith as Grace, but experience was more powerful. Good things didn’t happen. At least they didn’t last for very long.
When he pulled into the parking lot in Golden Peaks, Ryan informed the others of his plans for the weekend.
“I have to go into the city this weekend,” Ryan said. 
“This weekend?” Grace lamented. “What about the festival?”
Lying was easy. It was living with it that was hard.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” Ryan said. “You can still go. You can have fun without me.”
In the rearview window, Ryan saw the disappointment on Grace’s face and he looked away.
“Let the boy have his weekend, Grace,” Nelson scolded. “He needs some time with people his own age,” Nelson said as he opened the door to end the conversation.
With everyone back in their apartments, Ryan decided to take a walk. It was late afternoon and he was alone on the sidewalk. 
Stapled to a post, a flier announcing the event waved in the breeze. Ryan knew that Golden Peaks would be overrun with strangers in two days and he was not prepared for that kind of change. It was too drastic. 
Even his new room, as nice as it was, seemed foreign. It was like he was waking, the reality of his dream mixing with what was actually real. His life in Golden Peaks was morphing back into his life in the city. 
Ryan had no destination. The plan was to get away from Golden Peaks for a few days so that he could adjust to the changes. It was also a chance to get away from town before he accepted his new duties managing the daily maintenance of the town.
Packing the duffel bag he had retrieved from Mrs. Hargate’s trailer, Ryan put it on the island and decided to take a nap in his recliner.
Tapping. 
Noticing that he couldn’t stop tapping his foot, Ryan realized he wouldn’t get any sleep in the loft. Grabbing his duffel bag, wallet and keys, Ryan left.
Halfway down the stairs, Ryan realized he should lock his door, went back to lock the bolt, then headed for the minivan.
Looking both ways to cross the road, a habit he had just picked up again, Ryan started for the minivan when something caught his attention.
Turning to the south, up the slope to Howard’s hotel, Ryan saw a light on the first floor. There was a red car parked in front. Unless Sheri got a new car, there was a stranger in the new old hotel.
Turning quickly, Ryan jogged over to the minivan, got in and drove away with purpose. 
Whoever had taken ownership of the town wanted their privacy. It would only be a matter of time before Ryan met the person who decided the fate and future of Howard’s town.

CHAPTER 7

By Sunday morning, Ryan was ready to get back to Golden Peaks. There was a limit to how much time he could spend lounging at the pool of the motel he happened upon while driving aimlessly.
It was much cooler in the mountains, and hiking wasn’t a chore if the heat didn’t hold you back.
Stopping into the convenience store in Hamptonville on his way back, Ryan picked up a bag of mixed nuts and a sports drink for his trip home.
“Do you have a taxi service?” he heard a woman’s voice ask trying to resolve an issue professionally. “A bus service? Limo?” 
Turning slightly to listen to the conversation, Ryan heard the woman list off several other modes of transportation.
“If I can just get to Golden Peaks, I can get a ride from there,” the woman said and Ryan decided it was time to leave.
“Ma'am,” Ryan heard Bill say from behind the counter, “it’s Sunday ...” then Ryan cringed.
“Ryan!” Bill called over to him. For a moment, he froze, as if Bill might ask him another question other than what he knew Bill was going to request. “You’re going back to Golden Peaks, right?”
Alone, Ryan thought. Alone.
“Yes,” Ryan said as he turned with his snack. 
“Her car broke down, can you give her a lift,” Bill said. It was not a question.
Walking toward the counter, Ryan had a thousand reasons why he could not help the woman. 
It was the wide brim of the hat she held in her hand that caught Ryan’s attention.
It was the same young woman with the fliers he had met about a month earlier. Actually, they hadn’t met, more like crossed paths. There was also a small wallet type purse hanging from her wrist.
Turning toward him, the woman waited patiently for his answer. 
 This was a very elusive woman. She looked young and natural in her casual, loose-fitting dress, her sandy blonde hair in an informal bun.
This was a woman who looked for solutions. There was no hesitation in her eyes, no element of defeat, no exasperation at her situation.
His first impression was that there was a mischievous quality to her casual demeanor.
Although her loose-fitting dress was casual, her sneakers sensible, Ryan realized she was not mischievous. There was more intelligence in her eyes and face as she watched his every move.
This woman was always five steps ahead of anything he was thinking.
“I wasn’t prepared,” Ryan said and the woman did not waiver as she waited for the “but,” which Ryan of course already had on his tongue, “but if you don’t mind an old minivan, I am going to Golden Peaks.”
In her eyes, Ryan did not see relief or any other emotion. With a slight nod, the woman extended her free hand.
“My name is Van,” she said. Tucking his cold refreshment into his sweaty arm, Ryan rubbed his palm dry on his jeans with a swipe and then clasped the woman’s hand for the formal greeting.
A tight grip met his for a quick, professional squeeze. 
“I’m Ryan,” he said, trying not to let her see the surprise in his eyes when her grip wasn’t a limp shake.
“It’s on me, Ryan,” Bill said, nodding toward his snack. “Good luck, miss,” Bill said. Nodding, the woman looked to Ryan to lead the way.
Turning, Ryan led the way to the minivan. There was no time to make it presentable. It was old. It smelled like four sweaty people were its main passengers. No amount of car deodorizer could erase that reality.
Opening the unlocked passenger door, Ryan stepped back and walked to the driver’s side without looking back at the woman. 
Throwing empty water bottles to the backseat, Ryan placed his drink and package of nuts in the sticky cup holder. There was some part of him that was embarrassed. 
When the woman got in, she pulled the door closed and fastened her seat belt. 
“Ready?” Ryan asked. It was an obvious question and the woman just nodded.
There was silence as they drove toward Golden Peaks. A line of cars paraded by on the other side. There had never been traffic when he left from Hamptonville before.
His head turned slightly as each car passed. 
“A lot of traffic for a Sunday?” the woman asked. Considering the question, Ryan answered.
“A lot of traffic for any day,” Ryan joked. The woman did not respond. It was an inside joke.
They were silent again. This was not an awkward silence, at least not for the woman. If she was comfortable not talking, then Ryan was grateful he did not have to make conversation.
As they got closer, Ryan saw the chaos he was trying to avoid. Below the clearing where Howard’s tombstone gleamed in the sunlight, in the vacant lot before town, a large white tent had been set up and cars were parked haphazardly in the dust.
Slowing, Ryan did not want to get too close, but he knew he would have to get close enough to drop the woman off to meet her ride.
“What did you think of it?” the woman asked. Unprepared for the question, Ryan had to think about a response.
“I was out of town,” he said as he pulled up close enough to drop her off. Happy participants walked by laughing and talking, music drifted from the tent, and Ryan wanted to be alone.
“Thank you,” the woman said and then opened the door and left. Watching her leave, Ryan turned his attention to driving forward and as the woman slipped into the tent, Ryan looked down at her seat. There lay her purse.
“Miss,” he called out as he grabbed the purse. “Damn it,” Ryan muttered. A beep from behind caught his attention and Ryan waved impatiently.
Moving forward, Ryan slowly crawled through town, found the parking lot full, turned down the dirt road and parked in front of the trailers. 
Grabbing the purse and his duffel bag, Ryan muttered all the way back to the loft. The last thing he wanted to do was go in to the heart of the event. Maybe he could mail the wallet back to the woman.
Looking at the purse waiting for his decision, Ryan knew he had to get it back to the woman before she left. 
Dropping his duffel bag by the door, Ryan left the loft and headed to the tent.
Emerging onto the sidewalk, Ryan almost bumped into a group of inebriated revelers. Pardoning himself, Ryan felt like a wild animal thrust into a stampede.
On edge and disoriented, Ryan’s plan was to find the woman, hand her the purse and leave.
Bracing his mind and body for the onslaught of humanity he would have to wade through to accomplish his mission, every muscle in his body tightened until his hands were fists. 
Taking a deep breath, Ryan entered the tent and pushed his way through the crowd. The music was too loud. There were too many faces.
Hats. Ryan looked for hats. People were wearing caps, but he did not see the wide-brimmed hat belonging to the woman.
On a raised platform, people were dancing to a live band. Refreshments were on a table by a second opening in the tent.
Then something entered the tent that almost made him vomit. Surrounded by her entourage, in clothes much too refined for the casual occasion, Sheri stood ready for a confrontation.
Heart racing, head pounding, fists clenched, Ryan was starting to panic.
Then he saw the woman on the platform having a conversation with a man and a woman a few years older than herself while people danced around them.
With a glance, the woman acknowledged Ryan. Holding up the purse, Ryan was heading toward victory. His next mission was to get out before Sheri tracked him down.
Pushing through the crowd, Ryan hopped up the steps and reached out with the purse in an effort to get back down the steps.
Across the platform, Ryan saw Sheri reach the top as well and scour the crowd. Head low, Ryan did not move closer. 
“Ryan,” Van said, introducing him to her friends. “This is the man who gave me a ride from Hamptonville,” she explained.
Just take the purse, Ryan tried to say with his eyes.
“Come meet Stanley and Stella,” the woman said, ignoring his eyes. Ryan recognized the woman who had given the tour.
When Stanley and Stella cordially nodded toward him, Ryan knew he had to respond to Stanley’s extended hand. Taking a deep breath, Ryan stood straight and shook Stanley’s firm grip.
“Hi again,” Stella waved.
“You left your purse in the car,” Ryan said, holding the purse out toward Van. Electrical bolts stabbed Ryan’s gut when Sheri locked onto him, glared and charged.
“Ryan, I need to speak to you now,” Sheri commanded when she approached. Turning slightly toward Sheri, Van raised an eyebrow.
“Pardon me,” Van said, “but we are having a conversation here.”
Something exploded inside of Sheri and her face turned red as her eyes now directed their fury at the woman. Then, seemingly calm, Sheri smiled and turned.
Calculating. Ryan could see Sheri deciding her next move. Whereas Van didn’t reveal what she was thinking, Ryan could almost hear Sheri calculating her next move, like an old computer running updates.
There would be a scene. That was guaranteed and Van didn’t have the experience to plan for what Sheri was about to unleash.
“I have to go,” Ryan said quickly. If he got down the steps he could get lost in the crowd and be back at the minivan and on the road in minutes.
“Ryan lives in town,” Van continued as if they were having a casual conversation. Sheri and her friends were dancing, dancing way too close. It was like watching an accident he could not stop.
Before he could respond, one of Sheri’s male friends spun his female companion who bumped into Sheri, who just happened to bump into Van. Ryan saw it in slow motion.
Unable to keep her balance, Van stepped back, fell off the platform and landed on a row of paper cups filled with a red-colored drink that splattered all over the guests and the white tent. It looked like a massacre, a sweet massacre.
This caught everyone’s attention, including the band’s and the music subsided as each member realized something had happened and they wanted to see for themselves.
Delight screamed from Sheri’s eyes as she covered her mouth in mock horror. Although her shimmering suit was now ruined with red splats, it was worth the price to take down the person who had disrespected her.
A part of Ryan felt responsible. 
Before anyone could respond, Van rolled off the table, cups falling to the ground, and tried to wipe the sticky red liquid from her dress. 
“I am so sorry,” Sheri tried to say seriously, but Ryan could hear the sarcasm in her voice. “I am so clumsy. Are you hurt?”
A man picked up the red stained hat and purse, and handed them to Van.
“Are you alright,” the man said as people started to recover from the horror. 
Nodding, Van shook the excess liquid from her hat and purse and looked up at Sheri.
A twinkle of mischief in her eyes reminded Ryan that this woman was able to rebound quickly.
“I understand,” Van said pleasantly. “You lost your balance. It’s just something that comes with aging.”
All eyes turned to Sheri.
There was nothing she could say. Her plan to humiliate the woman had been deflected and now she stood humiliated. 
“Everybody have fun,” Van urged as a few concerned participants helped her out. Music started up and Sheri was still standing as if she were about to respond.
Before Sheri’s embarrassment wore off, Ryan quickly hopped off the platform and followed Van.
Standing under a stream of hose water spray, Van looked serene as the water washed off the sticky sugar leaving her with a large pink stain on her dress. 
“Good enough,” Van announced and the people helping her stopped spraying and turned off the water.
Soaked, Van shook herself and sprayed water over everyone around. There was laughter at the scene. Wiping water from her eyes, Van thanked everyone and turned to leave with her friends. Jogging up to her, Ryan apologized.
“Why would you apologize?” Van asked while squeezing excess water from her dress.
“You’ll be dry in minutes,” Stella offered. 
“That’s the truth,” Van affirmed. Slowing, Ryan realized that anyone who could silence Sheri didn’t need to be comforted.
Looking around, Ryan sought an escape. Heading behind the buildings, Ryan entered the side of the apartment to check in on Nelson and the ladies.
There were people lounging and touring the lobby. The ladies’ door was closed, so Ryan went to Nelson’s room and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Nelson threatened. Taking a step back, Ryan answered. There was some noise, something tipped over, and Nelson cracked open the door.
“It’s you, Ryan,” Nelson noted, “come in quickly,” the old man motioned and Ryan slipped through before Nelson slammed the door shut and locked the bolt.
A lamp had been knocked over and Ryan picked it up.
“Move it to the corner,” Nelson commanded. He was especially irritated.
Taking the floor lamp to the corner, Ryan set it up as Nelson hobbled to the recliner. 
“Damn festival,” Nelson muttered. “Trying to get in, like I’m some sort of exhibit.”
With a great groan, Nelson settled into his recliner and the motor whirred until he was content. “Have a seat,” Nelson commanded. “If you want something to drink, there’s tea in the kitchen.”
Nodding, Ryan went to get a glass of tea, then sat in the other recliner.
They sat in silence for a while before Nelson asked him what was on his mind.
“I can hear you thinking,” Nelson said. “Talk.”
“Sheri is back in town,” Ryan said.
“Really,” Nelson said, pondering this new development.
“She pushed a woman off a platform and onto a table full of some red drink,” Ryan said.
“Really,” Nelson said again.
“Do you know what the woman said?” Ryan asked still in shock about the events.
“I can’t even guess what she said,” Nelson answered.
“She said it was alright, because people had trouble with balance as they were aging,” Ryan said, turning toward Nelson. There was a moment of silence, then they both smiled, big wide smiles.
Chuckling, Nelson patted his cane at the thought of someone challenging Sheri.
“Aging,” Nelson said. “That’s good. I bet Sheri was enraged.”
“She just stood there,” Ryan said, the vision of Sheri just standing there with no response forever on his brain.
“I bet she did,” Nelson said. “She isn’t used to being talked back to.”
Taking a deep breath, Ryan expelled the tension of the event. Somewhere in Golden Peaks, a very angry Sheri was looking for revenge. It was a good thing he had locked his door.
“I’m going to stay on your couch tonight,” Ryan told Nelson.
“Sounds like a plan,” Nelson concurred. Then they just sat there in silence while the day wore itself out.
It wasn’t his plan to go outside, but the sound of cars racing back and forth was impossible to ignore. Walking carefully out to the sidewalk, Ryan looked up and down the road.
Except for a few people lingering, the town was quiet. A loud boom forced him back into the lobby as two cars raced by heading out of town. Looking down the road, Ryan saw workers taking down the tent and vendor trucks heading home.
There was a screech, and the cars raced back and up toward the old hotel. 
Stepping onto the road, Ryan followed their trail and saw that someone was having a party at the old hotel.
Squinting in the twilight, Ryan saw the convertible that belonged to Sheri. The cars raced back toward him, and Ryan got out of the road. He was just about to check in on the ladies when he saw Van walking toward him. 
Wearing jeans and a white blouse, Van waved and smiled. Not sure what to say, Ryan stepped back.
“How are you?” she asked cordially. 
“Fine,” Ryan said. He squashed the part of his mind that wanted to apologize again.
With her sandy blonde hair washed and just swaying from her shoulders, Van didn’t look like the same woman who had rendered Sheri speechless.
Although he was sure Van was younger than he was, Ryan was not sure how much younger. At times she seemed casual, informal, then she could be professional and efficient, and now casually efficient, but always effortless.
“I’m heading up to see what all the fun is about,” Van informed him.
Only his mind screamed “NO.” Blinking away that thought, Ryan wanted to dissuade her from that impulse.
“Do you realize that if Sheri sees you, she won’t hold back this time,” Ryan pointed out. 
“I’m not afraid of that woman,” Van said. “See you later, Ryan.” Shaking her head, Van walked by and Ryan just stared after her.
Groaning, Ryan walked in the other direction. Trucks and workers blocked his path so Ryan walked behind the building and took the side entrance back to the apartment. Knocking on the ladies’ door, Ryan heard Mrs. Hargate rush to answer.
“Ryan!” she cried, “Grace, they took Grace up to Howard’s. She thought she was going to a party. But Sheri is up there,” Mrs. Hargate moaned.
Hanging his head low, Ryan knew he had no choice. Grace was most likely in no harm, but if Sheri saw Van, there might be a confrontation and he didn’t want Grace in the middle of it.
“I’ll be back,” Ryan reassured her and then he ran back to the sidewalk and up the slope. Every window was lit in the old hotel.
Music boomed from the old hotel and cars parked haphazardly in front of the renovated building. People hung out on the front porch and Ryan saw Van pause before starting up the steps.
“Van!” he called out as he ran up to her. Turning, Van glared at Ryan as he approached.
“I can take care of myself, Ryan,” she asserted. Ryan knew she could, but he was thinking about Grace.
“There’s a little old woman in a wheelchair in there,” Ryan snapped. “Give me a few minutes to wheel her out of there, then you can do whatever you want.”
Lowering her eyes, Van nodded.
“Thank you,” Ryan said and he ran up the steps, jumped over people and pushed his way into the crowded lobby. Carefully trying to avoid Sheri, Ryan hunted for Grace.
“Woman in a wheelchair,” Ryan sputtered to each person until someone pointed to the ballroom. Nodding, Ryan pushed his way to the ballroom on the west side of the old hotel noting how different it was, new and bright.
At the far end of the room, Grace sat in her chair clapping to the music as young people danced to her delight.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan strode across the ballroom, ignored Grace when she greeted him, took control of the handles, then started to push her out of the room.
As he got to the door, Ryan knew he would have to find another exit. In the lobby, he saw people cheering and chanting Sheri’s name.
Backing into the lobby, Sheri looked victorious as the other partygoers taunted Van who entered a few steps later.
Circling around, the two women were ready for a confrontation. Ryan wanted to find another exit. He knew there used to be double doors to the right of the ballroom, but he could not move. 
“Ryan!” Grace whispered through her hands. This broke his trance and Ryan pushed Grace to the right and out the double doors.
Swiftly picking Grace up out of her wheelchair, Ryan balanced her against the railing, got her chair down the stairs, then put her back in her chair and quickly pushed her over the rocky, uneven ground to the safety of the paved driveway.
With everybody’s attention on the imminent fight, Ryan saw a familiar face and called out.
“Bill!”
Turning away from the old hotel, Bill left his girlfriend and jogged over to Ryan.
“Didn’t know Sheri was throwing this thing,” Bill apologized.
“Take Grace home and call the sheriff,” Ryan blurted then ran back to the old hotel and in through the double doors. 
Once inside, he stopped.
“What respect?” Sheri screeched. Ryan quietly walked forward anticipating creaks in the floor, but his footsteps were silent. From behind a tall plant in the parlor, Ryan watched the women still circling and taunting one another.
“I own this place,” Sheri screeched again. “This was my father’s home. My father’s town.”
“That’s not what I understand,” Van responded. Ryan wondered if Van understood that she was outnumbered. With one word, Sheri could seriously harm Van before the sheriff arrived.
The circling stopped. 
“Who told you that...” Sheri hissed. This time, Ryan could see that Van was just about to play her last card. Looking around at all the people, Van took control of the situation. 
“I will give you and your friends five minutes to clear out of here,” Van said. “This is not your home. You do not own this town. You are trespassing.”
It was clear that no one ever confronted Sheri because she did not know how to respond. At any moment she could have her supporters beat Van senseless.
There was an elegance in Van’s presence that deflected the insecurity fueling Sheri’s rage.
“If you go now, I won’t call the police to have you removed,” Van informed them. Now, everyone was confused. The crowd started to thin and Sheri was enraged she was losing her audience, her support system.
This time Sheri was prepared. Lunging for Van, Sheri shrieked, her claws extended to rip out Van’s eyes.
At the moment Ryan decided to step forward and stop the attack, Van took some martial arts stand and kicked her foot straight out. There was a loud “oof” as Sheri got the foot right in her chest and was knocked backwards into a column. 
Mouth wide open, Sheri slid to the floor. Still standing in combat mode, Van looked around at Sheri’s supporters and waited for a retaliatory attack. When no one moved, she stood up straight and smoothed her blouse. In the distance, Ryan heard a siren.
“My name is Van,” she informed Sheri. “You might know me better as the kin of Ms. Honey Hallowell. Leave my town. You are not welcome until you are willing to be civil to me and everyone else here. I do not tolerate disrespect.”
It was as if his chest had met Van’s foot. Stepping back, Ryan looked hard and long at this woman.
Although she was in control of the situation, as she uttered that declaration, Ryan saw something change in Van.
There was no time to decipher this woman. The sirens approached and two men pulled Sheri away to the back doors.
All her friends followed until it was just Van standing in the lobby and Ryan hiding in the back behind a plant.
Sensing he was there, Van addressed him directly.
“I fear nothing, Ryan,” she stated. “I will honor the will.”
Startled, Ryan backed away until he hit the wall. 
“What’s the problem here?” he heard the sheriff say as cars screeched from the driveway and out of town.
“We had a little problem, party crashers,” Van said. Walking quickly and quietly through the double doors, Ryan headed back to his loft. In minutes, the town was quiet again, just the light flashing red and blue on top of the sheriff’s car punctuating the darkness.
In the dark, in his loft, Ryan watched as the sheriff left and one by one the lights went out in the old hotel until only one light was on. The one in Howard’s old room.
As part of his contract with the new owner, Ryan was to report to a management company once a week. Working for an unseen entity had seemed so impersonal to Ryan. Everything had changed. This was very personal.
Unable to move, Ryan knew he had to tell the others. 
Fear. Van sensed his fear.
Ryan heard loud, heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“Ryan, it’s Bill,” he heard through the door as the man knocked several times.
Shaking his head, Ryan sighed and let his friend in.
“They’re pretty shaken over there,” he informed Ryan.
“Thanks for that,” Ryan said. “The sheriff came just in time.”
“What happened up there?” Bill asked. 
“Walk with me,” Ryan said and they headed out to the sidewalk.
Telling the story to Bill, Ryan felt relieved. He did omit the last part. That was something only meant for him.
After they parted, Ryan jogged over to the apartment and found Mrs. Hargate fretting in the lobby.
“We were so worried,” Mrs. Hargate said as she followed Ryan to her room. The door was open and Grace and Nelson were inside waiting. When they were all seated, Ryan retold his story.
“What’s she like?” Mrs. Hargate asked gruffly when they had time to comprehend the impact of Ryan’s news.
That he could not answer.
“She stood up to Sheri,” Grace offered cheerfully. “We don’t have to worry about her again.”
There was no response from Mrs. Hargate or Nelson. 
“It’s late,” Nelson declared as he supported himself on his cane to get up from the couch.
“I’ll walk you to your room,” Ryan said and Nelson nodded. When they got to his door, Nelson held onto the handle.
“Do you think she’s going to hold up to her promise?” Nelson asked. Ryan knew the answer to that.
“Definitely,” Ryan assured his friend. “None of you have anything to worry about.”
Grunting, Nelson bid him goodnight and Ryan headed back to his loft.
There was no sleep for Ryan. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was painfully aware of how much his situation had changed.
With Sheri, Ryan knew what to expect. All his reactions had been trained to respond to her moods.
In the morning, Ryan would be going to work indirectly for Van. The woman who stood up against Sheri was going to be his supervisor. At first glance, Ryan thought he knew something about Van’s personality.
Watching the change in her face as she took on Sheri, Ryan knew Van could be just as unpredictable, capable of great emotions and great swings in mood when pushed too far. 
Anger. A spark of anger was ignited when Van saw him as a coward. Every time he saw her accusatory eyes looking right at him, the spark grew a little stronger. Soon it was fueling an anger in Ryan he had suppressed for a very long time.
As agreed, he would manage the town. He would take care of Nelson and the ladies. He would respect his new boss. 
A new thought entered his mind, “This was Howard’s plan?” 
Sleep came to Ryan when he remembered the last thing Van said to him.
“I will honor the will.”
As he closed his eyes, Ryan ignored his last thought.
Was there more to Howard’s will than any of them knew?

***

The Tale continues

Desert Town Angels
PART TWO
“The Kin of Ms. Honey Hallowell”

The will of Howard Thornbon has been read and the kin of Ms. Honey Hallowell, a woman named Van, has taken over the town of Golden Peaks. Time is ticking. Howard has stipulated Van must remain in the town thirty days before taking full ownership, otherwise the property reverts to his daughter, who will do everything in her power to take back her birthright. Thirty days to decide the fate of Golden Peaks. Thirty days to learn why Howard left Golden Peaks to the kin of Ms. Honey Hallowell.

***

I hope you’re enjoying the adventure!
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Other Titles by R. A. Lee!

Love Again, Love for Them: A Novel
“I am married to you now, Jake, no strings attached… I was holding on to my first marriage so tightly. As long as we had that agreement, I could still feel I wasn’t betraying my first vows, the vows I meant.”

Brooke Sandstrom has just been laid off and her house is in foreclosure. With no husband to support her, Brooke must make a decision for the financial security of her young son, who has special education needs, and her ailing mother living in a care facility.
When her friend offers her the option of remarrying for security, Brooke jumps at the opportunity when she cannot find another job and the care facility is threatening to kick her mother out. 
Jake Parker needs a wife. Tired of being nagged by his mother to settle down, Jake decides to give her what she wants so that he can continue to see his beautiful girlfriend in the city, who is married to a Count.
Proposing to Brooke, Jake comes up with an arrangement that will solve both of their problems. He will have a wife for appearance sake and a companion for his mother, and Brooke will have security without having to perform the most basic marital duties.
It’s an arrangement that works well for both of them until Jake is forced to make a decision. But his indecision may cost him not only his family on paper, but also a chance for meaningful love. (Adult Contemporary Romance, Drama)

SMASHWORDS REVIEW
Review by: Eve Atedogs on Dec. 04, 2011
This review is going to be so unlike me so hang on for the ride...If you are looking for a fun upbeat romance story you are sniffing around the wrong tree. WAIT, that doesn't mean that this isn't worth reading this is by far the best book I ever read. The author has such insight when it comes to emotions, thoughts and feelings for those who have suffered lose. I was so touched at moments (by the way I never cried more during a book) I literally stayed up til 6am to finish this book I just couldn't put it down without possibly losing the trance I was in while consuming it. Were there parts I hated....you betcha lots of them but that didn't mean the book was poorly written what it meant was that the skill in writing to bring such emotion out of me was superior that my friends takes great writing ability. The story was such a strong, personal journey and at times I hated the so called hero and detested the mistress. I saw myself in the wife's position handling situations so differently she was strong, very very strong it made me proud to be female. I am going to keep this book for a very long time and read it in the future when I need a good cry or forget what great writing is all about. Should the author read this review I am on bended knee asking that you continue please to write. You do great things with your mind when you put it on paper. For those of you considering reading it...support this author and you won't be sorry. I am overwhelmed by it all. Thank you for the opportunity to share this experience happy reading, enjoy.


The Beauty at the Bus Stop: A Novel
Slinking toward them in the heavy, congested traffic was a city bus, and Evan was filled with a sense of urgency.

What could he say to make her not get on that bus?

Laid off from his bank job, Mountain Wood, Colorado, native Evan Hillaway takes a risk and accepts an offer from his cousin to work for a friend in Los Angeles. Within days of arriving, Evan sees a woman at a bus stop and instantly falls in love.
Ashley Cooper is also a small-town girl who has been laid off and looking for a way to meet her financial needs. The only difference is that her “small town” is the Westside of Los Angeles.
Through a series of fortunate events, Evan meets the woman but soon learns she’s looking for someone with more financial security than Evan can provide.
With love on the line, Evan risks everything just to prove to her that they belong together. Now it’s up to Ashley to decide if love is enough to take their relationship to the end of the line. (Adult contemporary romance)


The Fountain of Truth: A Novel
“Build us a town in which we can live, build us a church in which we can marry, build us a house in which we can raise a family and I will come back to marry you.”

Tim Jaskin has no time for sentimental notions even when it comes to his own family. The old town his family reputedly established generations earlier is on the brink of being demolished by eminent domain. Although he doesn’t side with the city, his grandmother implores him to help the family preserve the fountain in Fountain Way for future generations.
The only evidence Tim has is a tale his family has told for generations about how his great-great-great-great-grandparents met at a fountain, the origin of Trader Fountain. A historian only interested in facts, Tim needs more than just sentimentality to obtain historical status for Fountain Way.
Cherish Tiswell is heading cross-country to be with her fiancé. Unable to maintain the family business through a dire economic cycle, Cherish has given up her family home when her late parents’ medical bills make it impossible for her to keep up with the mortgage. Her only ties to family now rest in her future marriage to her fiancé.
Lost on a country road looking for the Interstate onramp, Cherish stumbles on the fountain and finds herself in the middle of a family feud to protect a heritage threatened by a complacent heir.
Cherish teaches Tim a valuable lesson in the value of family, and it’s up to Tim to decide if his legacy is compelling enough to preserve even without the proof he needs to believe the family tale is true. (Adult contemporary romance)

“My Vegas Valentine: A Novella”
There is a code between sisters: Thou shall not be intimate with a guy your sister dumps, not without her permission. Faith lives in the shadow of her more glamorous twin, but on a trip to Vegas she bumps into a man she takes for her sister's ex-lover and debates breaking that code when she inadvertently spends Valentine's Day with him after dumping her cheating boyfriend. 
Arriving on a commercial flight, Faith's adventure takes her on a local's tour of Vegas and a stay in a private Villa before she boards a private jet home to get away from her Vegas experience and back to her normal small town life.
When co-workers learn of her exploits from her ex-boyfriend, a co-worker who trashes her reputation, they refer to the stranger as Faith's "Vegas Valentine."
Realizing that she's been settling, Faith begins an adventure that takes her from the comfort of her carefully planned life and into the arms of a stranger who may break her small town heart, but for whom her heart beats. "My Vegas Valentine"

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