Prologue
He poured carbonated red grape juice into a long-stemmed glass and set the bottle back in the refrigerator. With the glass in one hand and the letter in another, he sauntered into his office. The handwriting on the letter was neat and feminine. Taking a sip of the wine colored liquid, he sat the glass in a coaster on the smooth mahogany desk and dropped the letter beside it. The room was too warm. Every time the weather got cold outside, other residents in the complex cranked their heaters up and then he had to adjust his own thermostat. He removed his jacket, folding it carefully and placing it over the back of the visitor’s chair. Loosening his tie, he dropped into the leather office chair and picked up the envelope. “Alexander Mathew Barnett,” he read aloud. His laugh was little more than an expulsion of air. Only in the last year had his sister started writing, and it was always stiff and formal. At least she was willing to communicate now. No doubt the opening of dialog was due to her roommate. Carmen must be quite a woman to inspire such admiration from Katie. He’d like to meet her sometime. He pulled out a drawer and selected a wooden handled letter opener with gold inlay. Slicing the end of the envelope open with one smooth movement, he placed the letter opener back where it belonged and shoved the drawer shut. Pressing on the sides of the envelope to open the end, he blew into it, exposing the letter inside. As he plucked the letter out, a picture fell on the table, face down.
“Carmen at the fair,” was written on the back of it.
He flipped it over as he opened the letter. One glance led to a double-take and then he abandoned the letter. He sat up straight and picked up the picture, whistling in admiration. Blond curls framed one of the prettiest faces he had ever seen. The smile with those full lips was sad, sweet and somehow innocent. She was squatting beside a goat, one knee lower than the other.
He leaned back in his chair, the letter forgotten as he studied the girl in the picture. She looked to be about twenty-two or three. In his mind’s eye, he had pictured her much older – probably because of the way Katie spoke of her. A girl that young didn’t usually have much common sense.
The swell of well developed breasts peeked from a tank top that might have looked suggestive on someone else. This lady wore it with the finesse of a duchess. In modest shorts, her legs were smooth – shapely, without the sharp angles of a muscular build. Slim ankles and lean upper thighs gave her the look of a model. And yet, according to Katie, she ran a budding goat dairy on a run-down farm in Northwest Arkansas.
He tossed the picture on the desk and leaned forward to pick up the letter. Yes, he definitely wanted to meet her.
According to Katie’s letter, kidding season was almost on them and they were getting the barn ready. She said they were working their tails off. He grunted. If he knew Katie, Carmen was probably doing most of the work outside. Katie wasn’t lazy, but she didn’t like getting dirt under her fingernails. She’d make some man a nice housewife one day.
Once again she was inviting him to visit, but this time she said Carmen had offered to let him use a room upstairs. They were a long way from the nearest hotel and Katie wanted to see him as much as possible. That didn’t sound like Katie. When she left his apartment, all she took was a suitcase full of clothes. She even left his picture on her nightstand – a final insult that still stung. At the time she had told him if she never saw him again, it would be too soon. Granted, she was in the middle of a tantrum, but two years had passed without a word from her except notification when their aunt died. She had been cool toward him at the funeral, but that may have been due to the fact that she was grieving. Then a few months later she had sent the first letter, saying that she had a roommate and was working on a farm. That was a shocker. Well, she would turn 21 in a few months and her inheritance would be available. She could buy her own place then.
He carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Retrieving the glass of grape sparkly, he picked up the picture and leaned back in the chair. There he sat for a while, sipping the juice while he studied the picture again. Something about her stirred his insides in a way that he thought might never happen again. Once before he had felt that way about a woman and she had literally left him waiting at the altar while she ran off with another man. Katie said it was because he was so controlling. Maybe she was right. Maybe he would never find a compatible mate. So far he’d managed to chase two women off before he reached thirty.
He tossed the picture back on the table and drained the glass. He wasn’t going to go through that pain again. No woman was worth that. He stood and took the glass to the kitchen. Rinsing it, he placed it in the dishwasher and shut the door. A quick glance around the kitchen revealed sparkling clean countertops. Sterile was the word that came to mind. That described his life right now. Between college and work, there wasn’t much time left for anything else.
He turned, starting for the living room, and then stopped. Retracing his steps to the office, he retrieved the picture. Striding back to the kitchen, he deliberately removed the caduceus magnet and centered the picture on the refrigerator door – eye level. Smiling, he anchored it with the magnet. A man could always dream.
The doorbell demanded his attention and he answered the door to find a tall young man standing in the hallway.
“So, where are you going on your vacation?” The younger man said with a big grin.
“Come in, Gerald,” Alex responded dryly as he stepped aside to allow the lanky salesman into the room. “Forced vacation . . . isn’t that an oxy-moron?”
Gerald walked into the room and favored Alex with a wry smile. “You’re the only person I’ve ever known who has had to be forced to take a vacation.” He strolled into the kitchen and glanced around. “Not a speck of food in sight.”
Alex chuckled. “There’s some sandwich stuff in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”
Gerald stopped with one hand on the refrigerator door, his attention fixed on the photo.
“What’s this?” he said, leaning down to examine it. “Wow!” He moved the magnet and plucked the picture from the door.
“My sister’s room mate,” Alex said, removing it from his hand and replacing it on the refrigerator. “What you’re after is inside the refrigerator.”
Gerald grinned at him. “Private stock, huh?”
“No, I’ve never met her.”
Gerald opened the refrigerator door. “Why not? Didn’t you say your sister has been asking you to visit?” He piled ham, sandwich spread, lettuce, a tomato and bread in his arms and allowed the door to shut on its own. “What are you waiting for?”
“She has a boyfriend.”
Gerald piled the food on the table and looked up at Alex. “Your sister or her roommate?”
Alex pulled out a chair. “Both. Shove some of that food over here.”
Gerald got a couple of plates from the cabinet and two knives. “Who’d think mighty-might would let a little thing like a boyfriend stop him.” He shoved a plate and knife toward Alex and then sat down.
The nickname had been given him by three other salesmen at the office. It wasn’t that he was so small. They were simply very tall – all well over six feet. Still, his tenacity was what had inspired the name, not his size.
Alex built a sandwich without responding.
Gerald stood and grabbed the picture from the refrigerator again. Sitting back down, he examined it.
“Maybe I’ll go visit your sister. I might get lucky.”
Alex reached over and snatched the picture from his hand, tucking it into his shirt pocket.
“Don’t talk about her that way.”
Gerald put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. “I wasn’t talking about your sister.”
Alex gave him a level look. “I didn’t think you were.”
Gerald grinned. “Well, well. You might not know it yet, buddy, but you’re hooked.”
Alex gathered his sandwich and lifted it. “My life is complicated enough,” he said, and took a bite out of the sandwich.
They ate in silence for a while and finally Gerald spoke, his tone conversational.
“So when are you leaving?”
Without looking up, Alex responded. “In a week or so, I guess. It sounds like they could use some help.”
Nothing more was said about the subject.
After Gerald left, Alex showered and changed into jeans, a western shirt and square-toed boots. Tucking the picture in his shirt pocket, he left the apartment and drove straight to the stable. There he saddled Ed and rode out to the exercise field. He did some of his best thinking in the saddle.