Maggie Connelly, Part 3

Maggie was lost in thought on the ride home. Pulling up to Maggie’s apartment, Stella asked “Any plans for this evening?”

“I’m going to kick back and relax and then Charlotte is coming over later.”

“Well, have fun and remember you never know when the phone might ring requesting a second interview.”

Maggie laughed, “Love you Mom but hey, don’t get your hopes up too high. Give Daddy my love and I’ll talk to you later.”

Maggie slipped from the car, subconsciously grabbing her shoes and briefcase while fumbling for her keys at the same time. Stella smiled at the familiar image of Maggie walking into the house absent minded with her shoes in one hand trying to locate her keys with the other. Stella waited until her front door opened and Maggie shut the door firmly behind her. Her daughter safely home, Stella’s thought turned toward dinner.

Maggie was greeted by her dog, Spike. Spike was a Cocker Spaniel, blonde, and when he wasn’t lazing about the apartment, he loved nothing more than smelling every possible blade of grass, hedge, and cactus known to mankind while outside.

“Let me change clothes real fast and then I’ll take you out,” Maggie said in response to Spike’s jumping around the front door like a madman. Maggie quickly shed the suit, tossing it nonchalantly on the bed, and slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shit. Grabbing Spike’s leash, she slid on sandals and proceed to head outside for a quick walk of Spike knowing that the everyday activity would relax both of them and count as a workout.

Later that evening, Charlotte let herself into the apartment, “Hi Maggie what smells so amazing?”

“French Dip sandwiches, roast has been on all day. If I know you Charlotte, you haven’t had a decent meal since before you left for New York a couple of weeks ago.”

“You know me too well, but I’m famished so can we eat?”

And Charlotte, the red-headed supermodel, proceeded to put away an incredible amount of food for someone so slender. After her third sandwich, Charlotte forced herself away from the table “Maggie I love you but I swear your cooking could single handedly end my career.”

Maggie laughed, “Not a chance, you never gain weight and I know how much you love modeling.”

“True enough, so how’d the interview go?”

“True to form, nothing new to report. I’m still really unsure about the interview with Carson Stone. I keep thinking I will cancel it or reschedule.”

“Don’t be a ninny. Seriously, just get over it. You will make a wonderful addition to any firm and Carson Stone, or any other lawyer for that matter, would be foolish for failing to hire you. Now, let’s fire up the console and smash some bad guys so you can take your frustrations out on digital enemies and not yourself.”

“Oh, it is so on. Pop whatever you want to play on and I’ll grab us a couple of beers.”

And thus began the epic night of gaming and giggling as two grown woman in their thirties played a video game and relaxed while demolishing other players in multiplayer Assassin’s Creed.

“Thanks Maggie, I needed that. I will pick you up early Friday morning and I’m buying dinner Friday night when we get back.” Charlotte smiled, her face was relaxed and she looked about 16 years old. Her long, red hair tied back in a ponytail with her face devoid of make-up. It was easy to see how despite the odds, Charlotte was still in extremely high demand in the competitive world of modeling.

“Thanks Charlotte, I appreciate it. I promise I will be ready when you get here Friday. Now, drive home safely.” Maggie and Spike followed Charlotte to her car, where the two best friends hugged goodnight. One drove off into the inky blackness of night and the other wandered off into the dimly lit paths of the apartment complex with Spike.

 

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Maggie Connelly, Part 2

Maggie and Stella slid into a booth, neither bothering to look at a menu. Unsurprisingly, they each ordered their favorites Rhubarb pie and a coke for Stella and Apple Pie and a coffee for Maggie. There was a comfortable silence, the kinds that only comes between mothers and daughters who have grown into friends.

Maggie sat there and began to wonder if there just wasn’t something wrong with her, after all she had gone on all of these interviews and had yet to receive a second interview. It wasn’t that she wasn’t well qualified or interviewed poorly she knew, but she suspected that firms only wanted to hire individuals that could, and would, easily slip into the mold expected of them. Maggie knew that failure to wear the black suit uniform of her profession was a detriment but she wasn’t willing to compromise personal ethics and standards for the sake of a job.

Stella sat there quietly sipping her coke and watch the emotions flicker across her daughters face. She knew that Maggie was worried about not landing a job yet but knew that the right job just hadn’t presented itself yet. Stella was also immensely proud of Maggie for being wise enough to understand that compromising personal convictions to land a job would ultimately lead to more problems that the immediate gratification of having a job and a paycheck could ever compensate for.

The waitress slid their order in front of them and Stella broke the silence, “Hey Maggie, stop fretting. The next interview may be the one and if it’s not, then something else will come along. Sometimes the path lest taken is the best choice in life.”

“I know Mom but sometimes the path trodden by the masses leads to financial stability.”

“Cactus, there are many paths to financial stability some more obvious than others, but there is only one path that leads to true personal satisfaction and respect. Why deviate when ultimately you know the well-trodden path will be a short detour before you cannot look yourself in the mirror in the morning?”

“I know Mom, believe me I know. But it is frustrating that others only see the outside appearance and judge based solely on that and fail to even take the time to figure out that my intelligence, wit, and cunning are not determined by the color of my suit, the height of my heels, or the circumference of my waistline.”

Maggie’s voice was that mix of frustration, anger, and regret that Stella knew well. Maggie was in the process of getting so pissed off, that her self-confidence would be back long before they got back into the car. Stella smiled to herself and just listened to Maggie as she unwittingly gave herself the pep-talk she needed.

“I mean, seriously, does a black suit somehow make you more intelligent? Nope, last time I checked it just made it look like you had no personality and were afraid to dress yourself without parental help.” Maggie smiled slyly, and any passerby would have instantly gotten the utter lack of respect Maggie held for the black suit brigade. “I have a sense of style and I know that the color of my clothing doesn’t diminish my intelligence so screw them and screw their jobs. Some other schmuck can get hired and be burned up by the suits. I am so going to nail that interview with Carson Stone and dammit I will be the first woman that man ever hires.” There was a fierce determination in Maggie’s voice and a spark of determination in her eyes.

“Cactus,” Stella smiled at Maggie “Henry and I are so proud of you and know that you will find the right job when it comes along. Now would you like to go home and put today behind you?”

“Mom, I would like nothing more than to go home and thanks, for feeding me pie and letting me work this out before I brought the toxicity home with me.”

“Hey, what are mother’s for?” Stella smiled as they left the diner and got into the car.

 

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Maggie Connelly: Wednesday

Maggie stood up and extended her hand across the conference table, she shook hands with the interviewing group of lawyers. She strolled from the room with confidence, head held high. The outer office was a somber, quiet place filled with low voices talking in the background, Maggie noticed that like all other legal offices she had interviewed with, this one was monochromatic in color and dismal. Pushing open the front door of the office, Maggie quickly exited the office and felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The elevator dinged and Maggie quickly got in and let her body relax in the empty elevator car.

Maggie was a complete contradiction from the group of lawyers she had just interviewed with again, and her previously scheduled interviews with other firms had been a similar experience. Today Maggie was in her favorite forest green suit and rose silk shirt with her amazingly comfortable rose pink kitten heels. No somber black suit with a stark white blouse and sky-high black heels for Maggie. Being a lawyer didn’t mean she was willing to give up her personality and soul for a job.

Elevator came to rest on the ground floor and Maggie alighted and pushed open the lobby door and exited into downtown Phoenix. It was early March and the oppressive summer heat hadn’t yet arrived. Maggie shivered slightly, wishing that there was just a little more warmth in the early spring sun. Maggie’s hand subconsciously reached down and felt for her two good luck charms, the two characters that had been with her on all important interviews, tests, and life events for as long as she could remember. Sure enough, the stuffed tiny mouse and turtle were in her briefcase and the pent-up tension seemed to melt away.

Stella glanced up from her needlework and saw her daughter exiting the building. Stella watched as Maggie’s hand patted the outside of her briefcase and the smile that flitted across her face was one of relief and exhaustion. Stella started the car and pulled up in front of the office building, Maggie slid into the car and Stella drove home.

“Hi Mom, thanks for taking me today.”

“No problem hon, just out of curiosity how are you going to get down here every day if you get the job?”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t be getting the job. I was a great fit but a horrible fit at the same time. They would be foolish not to hire me but I would be floored if I got a request for a follow-up interview.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fit the mold. I may have the skills and intelligence they need but they want an attorney that fits the mold. You know black suit, white shirt, high heels in black, and somber face.”

Stella merged onto the highway and glanced over at Maggie’s face, it was a mask of rejection, determination, and frustration. “So, when is the next scheduled interview?”

“Oh you mean the last one? The one I got through e-mail and with the attorney that has never hired a woman in his legal career? That interview?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and defeat.

“Maggie, that attitude isn’t anything like you and being bitter certainly won’t help.”

Maggie glanced over at Stella, “Sorry Mom, just frustrated and I have to be realistic that I may have to figure out something else to do professionally because I’m not willing to compromise my personality and ethics to fit some pre-determined mode of what a female attorney is supposed to be. I won’t be caught dead wearing the black and white uniform with high heels. What would be the point? I would be miserable and it would reflect back on my clients and that I would result in disaster. I won’t go down that path just for the sake of a job.”

Stella heard the range of emotions in her only daughter’s impassioned speech. “So, take all that frustration and determination and earn the respect of Carson Stone on Friday.”

“Don’t worry I will be over today by the time Charlotte picks me up Friday morning. She’s coming over later. I really appreciate the unwavering support and love from you and Dad. I am lucky and I know it. My professional life will sort itself out eventually, time and patience is all that is required. I just need to stop trying to pour myself into a mold that I know won’t work for me.”

Stella smiled, “I’ve always told Henry that you had an old soul and were wise beyond your years. Don’t be so hard on yourself, the right job will come along. Hey, how about we stop and get a slice of pie before going home?”

“Deal!”

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Theresa Stone, Conclusion

Theresa slid open the door to her suite and was greeted by the sight of her husband lounging on the sofa. Ben was tall, blonde, and had the body of a swimmer. Ben was a professional soccer player and his season had concluded a month ago. His body was still recuperating from months of hard fought games and injuries that never got the chance to heal completely. He glanced up when the door opened but immediately returned his attention what sports channel had captivated his attention.

Theresa couldn’t help herself, “What no greeting when your lovely wife comes home?”

Ben snorted, “As soon as I have a lovely wife that comes home I’m sure I’ll greet her with love and enthusiasm.” He retorted sarcastically and emotionlessly.

Theresa snorted in response and true to form was about to turn on her heel and flee into her bedroom but instead she decided to take Beth’s advice to heart. She shudder but headed for Ben, kissed the top of his blonde head and then headed for her room. It was a small display of affection that was far from heartfelt but it would serve to throw Ben off kilter.

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to order dinner. Can I order you something?”

Ben stood, the television momentarily forgotten, and looked at Theresa. “Ok, what gives? The last thing you want to do is eat dinner with me so what do you want?”

“I want nothing. I’m tired of fighting to be honest. It takes too much time and energy. Can we please just declare a truce for the next couple of months?”

Ben stared, literally for the first time he was speechless and his mouth hung open. The woman standing in front of him looked and sounded like his wife but her behavior was so uncharacteristic that she was unrecognizable. “Theresa, I’m so not in the mood for mind games. But I’m starving so I’m going to assume you are being nice for whatever reason and accept your offer of a truce and dinner.”

“Coming right up, just let me get changed and then I’ll order up dinner. Don’t worry about anything.” Theresa flitted from the room, seemingly unconcerned about anything and truly enjoying his company. As she entered her lavish room she thought “Imagine that, the old crone Beth was right. It really is possible to fool the pea brain in a man’s head with a few kind gestures and the offer of food. I’m so glad I decided to implement her plan upstairs.”

Ben sat there, oblivious the plotting that had occurred or would be occurring for months to come.

 

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Theresa Stone, Part Four

Two hours later, Beth unfurled her lithe form from her chair and picked up the house phone. She placed an order for a light supper for two with a bottle of champagne to be delivered with the meal. Theresa meanwhile, was sitting on the sofa still looking floored. Theresa was not looking anywhere near as fresh or put together as Beth. She had the wrinkly, frumpy, had too much to drink too quickly look that served only to highlight her age. Beth was not what she expected her to be and she had been right earlier in the day when she said there was much she had to learn from her. Theresa was still reeling from the sheer amount of information Beth had shared in such a short time about her family and let’s be blunt, reeling from how deeply she now trusted Beth.

Beth looked like she had not a care in the world and she sat back down and waited for Theresa to respond to her earlier proposal. Beth evaluated the younger woman, she looked shell shocked but she also had that predatory gleam dancing in her eyes. Theresa understood the ultimate prize and was willing to play her part. Beth had taken a gamble on trusting Theresa but something in her personality made Beth see a kindred soul when Theresa so rudely introduced herself that afternoon.

There was a knock on the door and Beth answered, shamelessly flirting with the bellhop as dinner was served and champagne uncorked. The smell of food seemed to rouse Theresa from her thoughts and she ambled over to the table.

“Smells delicious, thanks for ordering I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“My pleasure. I trust this afternoon has been enlightening.”

“Beth, I am honestly at a loss for words. I think I’ve learned more in the last two hours than I have in the last twenty years. But I’m curious, why? Why take the risk? Why involve me? Why share your lifetime of knowledge with me a stranger who just happened to bump into you today?”

“Smart questions Theresa, smart answer because my dossier on you indicates that you are intelligent and would be open to the things discussed here today.”

Theresa pushed back from the table and clutching her champagne flute, walked over to the windows. Admiring the stunning view of the glittering city spread out below her, she thought carefully about how to phrase her next question.

“No, I get that Beth. I mean why now? You’ve had plenty of time, so what made today different?”

“Another simple answer Theresa, you stank of loneliness and desperation.” Beth watched as Theresa’s defenses came up. Her shoulders tensed, she stood a little straighter, and without seeing, Beth know she had a death grip on the stem of the champagne flute. “It isn’t an insult Theresa. But let’s be honest, before today you weren’t ready. You thought yourself above everyone and impervious to hurt. Something snapped inside you when you saw the way Jack responded to me and you yearned to know my secrets.”

Theresa spun around, her face once again screwed into a mask of barely contained fury. “I am impervious to hurt, I do the hurting not vice versa.” Her tone was bitter, cold, and dejected.

“Maybe when you were younger, but admit it Theresa you no longer have the blatant power over men you once had. It’s time to play smarter and win more in the process.”

Theresa’s shoulders slumped and the fight seeped out of her like a balloon losing air. “Are you sure your plan will work? I need money Beth, I’m not going to sugar coat things. Ben has it and I want it. I made some foolish investments and lost the comfortably large nest egg I had hidden away in the last four years. If Ben walked out on me right now, I’d have to go crawling home to Daddy and that would not end well.”

“As charming as your father is, I can’t see him welcoming you home with open arms to live off of him either.” Beth agreed easily, knowing full well that Theresa would be back home soon enough playing off her father’s sympathies.

 

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Theresa Stone, Part Three

Breezing by the sparkling crystal shards littering the carpet, Theresa headed to the house phone and issued demands to the concierge. Her answers obtained, Theresa grabbed her handbag and wobbled unsteadily on her heals as she headed for the suites front doors. She struggled to open the door in her inebriated state, and stumbled as the latch released and the door sprang open. Theresa used the wall to support her unsteady gait as she headed to the elevator bank and rode the elevator to the appropriate floor where Beth’s suite was located.

“Lucky witch,” Theresa muttered under her breathe as she pounded on the suite’s door.

Beth heard the commotion and decided to let Theresa stew outside for a couple of minutes, after all she wasn’t at the washed up trophy wife’s beck and call. Beth had changed into something comfortable and had been relaxing comfortably on one of the suite’s ultra plush chairs while sipping a mimosa. Deciding she had left Theresa stewing long enough, Beth rose gracefully from the chair. Her flexibility and grace belying her age.

“About time you answered the door,” Theresa stumbled as she slithered into the room. “I need a drink.”

“Seems like you’ve already had more than enough, how about a cup of coffee instead?” Beth had moved to the house phone and placed an order for coffee and afternoon tea to be brought up.

Theresa in the meantime had collapsed into the nearest chair. She was a mess to the casual observer. Her diamonds in disarray, her clothing all askew, and the stench of gin emanating from her. Beth shook her head, pitying the creature before her and wondering if her plan was bold enough and if Theresa were capable of carrying out the plan given her current condition.

Room service arrived and Beth served Theresa a strong cup of coffee and placed a sandwich in front of her, “Eat and drink and then we will talk.”

Theresa pouted but complied. Beth observed Theresa over the delicate china cup as she sipped her tea. Theresa reminded her of a spoiled poodle, all dressed up and feisty but incapable of doing any true harm. “She should be a breeze to manipulate.” Beth’s thoughts drifted toward her scheme and how it might be changed to suit her needs.

Shortly, Theresa seemed to sober up some and pulled herself up into a more graceful position. She eyed the elderly woman seated in front of her, curious about the creature that had managed to sink her claws into dumb Jack despite the gulf of years between them. There was nothing remarkable about Beth, Theresa quickly surmised. She had stylishly cut short gray hair, green eyes, wrinkles, although not many, and wore simple jewelry. Nothing about her screamed sex kitten capable of landing a man fifty years her junior. Theresa of course, failed to observe the easy manner Beth moved, her limbs obviously limber and without any hint of arthritis or rheumatism.

“So, I assume you have graced my elegant suite for a reason Theresa.”

“You said you could help me. I am curious as to how you think you can help me? Or how you even think I need help in the first place.” Theresa’s tone was harsh and abrupt and her gaze unwavering.

“Well, for starters I know that you can no longer hold your husband’s attentions and that while you sit here alone on evenings, he is out have a grand time with sweet young co-eds.”

Theresa snorted, “Like I care where he dips his wick! All I care about is his money.” Her face distorted into a gaze of disgust and derision.

“Be that as it may, he is making a fool of you in polite society and I know you care about that a great deal. Last I heard, he was running his mouth at a party proclaiming that he couldn’t wait to divorce you and move on in peace. I believe I heard him call you the sparkling vulture recently.”

Theresa’s gaze hardened and she made a move to leave. “Oh sit down and stop being an idiot. We both know you don’t love your husband and you are only interested in bilking as much money as you can out of his accounts before he leaves you high and dry.”

 

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Theresa Stone, Part Two

“That’s laughable, Ben Johnson would be a nothing without me” Theresa’s nervous laughter belied the ferocity of her statement.

Beth stayed silent watching Theresa’s face as all of her doubts and insecurities danced across her expression.

Theresa glared at Beth, “As if you could offer someone like me advice.”  Theresa’s tone was derisive and scornful.

Beth stood up, glancing down at the American Express card still on the table, and then back at Beth.  Reaching down and picking up the card, Beth softly said “You might want to rethink your lofty attitude, after all I’m approaching seventy and still have young bucks like Jack dropping cash on me for anything I desire.  Should you decide you need assistance, I am staying at the Biltmore, Presidential Suite obviously.”

Theresa sat there, left behind like some school girl too troublesome to bother with any further.  It was a feeling she did not like and was certainly not accustomed to feeling.  A waiter happened by and slide the bill in front of Theresa.

“Great just great, now I have to pay the old gold digger’s tab too?”

Resentfully Theresa paid the tab and gathered her parcels.  She stormed off, throwing her valet receipt at the unsuspecting valet, and tapped her foot impatiently for the Jaguar convertible.  The sleek powder blue beauty  pulled up and Theresa speed away as soon as her parcels were stowed by the valet in the trunk.  She drove aimlessly for a while and then involuntarily it seemed the convertible was headed for the Biltmore.

Theresa once again handed the convertible over to a valet.  Once again she failed to notice the valet, other than ordering the valet to have her parcels sent up to her suite.  She sneered angrily to herself knowing that she had lesser accommodations in the hotel than the gold digger Beth.

Stomping her way to her room, her mood on display for all who came near her.  She grumbled and grouched under her breath, her face was a mask of fury, and her shoulders were coiled tight with tension.  She slammed her suite door closed behind her and immediately made her way to the bar.  Pouring herself a large gin and tonic and she slumped in the nearest chair.

A timid knock on the door roused her from her silent fuming, “Come in, dammit” was the response.

The door pushed open and the bell hop politely asked where he should deposit the parcels collected from the Jaguar.

“Oh any where, for heaven’s sake just throw the blasted things where ever you want.”

The bellhop did so and silent closed the room door closed behind him, thankful to have escaped with no further interaction or demands from Mrs. Johnson.  Little did Theresa know, not that she would care if she knew, but the hotel staff despised any and all interaction with her.  She was a common discussion point in staff meetings, and management had come very close to requesting that the Johnson’s terminate their extended stay and never return.  It was only Ben Johnson’s standing in the community that kept Theresa ensconced at the Biltmore these days.

Wobbling as she stood, she made her way over to the bar and poured herself another drink.  She collapsed back into the chair and sipped her drink somewhat slower this time.

“Oh does this Beth person think she is?  How dare she infer that Ben is on the verge of dumping me!”  Her voice slurred slightly, as she talked to herself.

But then a horrible thought hit her, “What if that seventy year old dried up hag knows something I don’t?  Crap, I am going to have to go up there aren’t I? “

Theresa’s voice broke into a sob as she realized she couldn’t risk not talking to Beth.  The older woman had to know something  Theresa didn’t after all, she was in possession of a black American Express card and Theresa was not.  These thoughts infuriated her so intensely, that she hurled the now empty glass across the suite and smiled as the glass shards rained down like sparkling diamonds.

 

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Theresa Stone, Part One

Theresa sat in the outdoor café in Scottsdale, sipping her coffee and enjoying the breeze in the sunny day as the shoppers rushed by. She was in no hurry to be anywhere, instead more interested in killing time to avoid her tedious husband and returning home to Smithson. Flipping idly through a fashion magazine, her hand stopped in mid-turn. There before her, in a secluded corner, a couple caught her eye.

Theresa peered intently at the couple, sure enough it was her younger brother Jack with a much older woman sitting across from him. Jack was eighteen years younger than Theresa and the siblings weren’t close. He was clearly eating up the attention the older woman was bestowing on him. Theresa shivered in disgust and turned away. The last thing she wanted to witness was some old biddy throwing herself at the waste of humanity that was Jack.

Theresa blocked the two from her mind and resumed flipping through her magazine. However, despite her best intentions her eyes keep wandering back to Jack and his companion. Jack appeared to be bored but interested. Theresa thought to herself, “If only I could find a willing, gullible boy toy with which to amuse myself. Someone as simple and idiotic as Jack would be ideal.”

She shook her head, as if trying to clear the though. The canary yellow diamond gracing her left ring finger catching the light as she shook her head, as if to remind her she was married to the fabulously wealthy ball player Ben Johnson. She smirked, the ring might sparkle in the sunlight but the sparkle and shine had definitely evaporated from her marriage long ago. Theresa knew that now she had to bilk as much cash from their joint accounts before Ben filed for divorce. Theresa knew it was only a matter of time before Ben left her and she knew that without his money, her lifestyle would come to an abrupt end.

“Look Beth, I need to book. I have classes to attend in Tempe and so have fun. Go shopping or whatever on me.” Jack tossed a black American Express at Beth and headed out.

Theresa heard the exchange and watched Jack carelessly toss the credit card at the woman. She slipped the magazine into her tote and walked over to the seat Jack had just abandoned. She slipped into the seat, saying “Hi I’m Theresa Stone, how do you know my little brother?”

The woman called Beth glanced across the table at the woman and smiled. Something in her eyes was familiar to Beth. She sized up the woman before answering. Theresa was about five-foot-six, lilac eyes, crow’s feet beginning to form, and a deep tan that could only be attained with chemical help. Beth immediately noted the number of diamonds gracing Theresa’s person, literally the expression dripping in diamonds came to mind immediately. Glancing at her surroundings Beth laughed out loud, the diamonds were so out of place even in ritzy, snotty Scottsdale, Arizona.

“Well, Theresa how I know your brother is my business don’t you think?” Beth’s voice was dripping in sarcasm.

Theresa’s eyes flicked downward and rested on the credit card Beth had made no attempt to retrieve from the table. “Well, Beth it appears from the outside you are a gold digger taking advantage of a young man too dumb to know the difference.”

“Wait, are you jealous or do you want to know my secrets?” Beth’s husky laugh grated on Theresa’s ears.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because from the look of you, you are trying too hard to flaunt your wealth and you are beginning to show your age. My guess is that you are on the verge of being dumped by the current fool that you suckered into placing that canary on your finger. It’s what an eight carat stone? Nicely done, by the way.”

 

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Carson Stone, Conclusion

Carson closed the door behind him and Dove curled up in her normal spot at the foot of the bed. Carson laid his briefcase next to the small desk in his room. He never worked up here but the desk was a fond remainder of happier times. The day had been a long one with more confrontation than pleasure unfortunately. He was tired of the bickering and endless whining.

Carson was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. The deep slumber of a man confident in his decisions but weary of the battles resulting from those same decisions. His rhythmic snoring soon filled the room.

The first rays of dawn were peaking over the San Francisco Peaks to the east when Carson awoke the next morning. The birds were starting their morning chatter outside his window as he lay there. The dawn broke over the horizon a brilliant splash of pink and orange as it filtered through the towering Ponderosa Pines.

Glancing at the clock on his bedside, Carson shook his head. “Dove, old girl, I remember a time when I could sleep well past ten in the morning. Now I’m blessed if I sleep past seven.” Dove glared at him with one eye opened, clearly communicating her displeasure at having been awoken so early.

The house was still and there was little noise from outside other than the birds greeting the day. Carson got up and decided to head into the office early. He had a relatively light day ahead of him but that was no reason to dawdle. Besides it was Friday, and that meant no staff in the office unless they had pressing business to attend. Carson long ago had implemented the no work on Friday rule when he opened his law office. Too many hours were spent working the rest of the week and young lawyers eager to scramble the ladder of success often forgot to have any semblance of a personal life.

Morning routine completed, Carson headed downstairs to scour up some breakfast for himself. He wasn’t surprised to find Rita already there stumbling around making coffee. “Morning sleepyhead,” came his amused greeting.

Rita glared at him in response. She was not a morning person. “Go away big brother, go away.” Her voice was gruff with sleep, her hair a wild disarray, and her fuzzy lime green slippers the most cheerful thing about her at this point in the day. The coffee finished brewing and she grabbed her cup and held it close, inhaling the dark, bitter brew’s scent deeply. The smell of the coffee perked her up and she smiled as she took that first sip of the day.

Turning to him she asked, “Now what can I make you?”

He laughed, “Nothing. I’m more than capable of fending for myself. Now go back upstairs and wake up. I’ll see you later.”

Rita waved at him as she shuffled from the room, more asleep than awake still. Carson popped a coffee pod into the machine and threw together a breakfast burrito for himself. He had learned long ago that he needed to eat a hearty breakfast because most days he was so busy he forgot about lunch entirely. Strong cup of coffee in one hand and his breakfast in the other, Carson made his way to the back door. He shrugged into a warm jacket and found his way to his seat at the outside table.

It was cold but there was nothing he liked more than breakfast outside when weather permitted. The wind was brisk and cold from the snowcapped Peaks but the air was clean and smelled of pine. The surrounding woods were waking up, the level of chatter from wildlife increasing steadily as Carson ate. Breakfast completed, Carson sat there enjoying the outdoors and silently promising himself that once the practice was disband he would spend more time outdoors simply doing nothing more strenuous than bird watching from this very spot.

Glancing down at his watch he noticed that it was already seven-thirty and he pushed away from the table somewhat reluctantly. Dishes deposited in the sink, Carson headed for the office. Smithson was already awake with residents meeting at the diner and heading out for the day. Carson, like all residents, took a good sniff of the morning air as he drove past the diner. He wasn’t too proud to admit that on some days he stopped for a second breakfast because the smells from Winston’s kitchen were that intoxicating.

Pulling into the parking lot, Carson parked and then noticed he failed to grab his briefcase from the bedroom. He laughed out loud, “As if I needed any proof of my age.” He shook his head, knowing that the briefcase could wait until Monday. Unlocking the office and heading toward his office, he flicked lights on as he went. The office was quiet, the only sound that could be heard was the hum of the office equipment.

“Good,” he thought. “No one else is here and I can get some serious work done before that blasted interview at eleven.”

He sunk into his cold office chair, shivered involuntarily at the cold leather beneath his jeans, and buried his head in a file. He worked undisturbed for about an hour when he heard the office door open. Glancing down at his watch, he did not notice as the intruder entered his office.

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Carson Stone, Part Four

Carson looked at the twins, their mocking laughter ringing through the foyer and grating on his nerves.

“Both of you please shut up and go do something useful.” Carson growled as he entered his library and shut the door silently behind him.

Rita heard the commotion and decided to quietly fix a try and bring it to Carson. She knew he was tired of dealing with the constant bickering among the three oldest children and he was more than ready to kick them all from the house. Rita couldn’t blame him.

Knocking on his door, Rita pushed her way into the library and set the tray down on his desk. “It’s just something light Carson but you should eat.”

“Rita, are they ever going to grow up and get out of my house? I’m tired and I can’t imagine how you’ve tolerated them for all these years. I owe you a debt I can never repay.” His voice was tired, his shoulders slumped in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace.

“Carson, you don’t owe me anything. I decided to stay and raise them. I did the best I could but you are right, they are whining, petulant brats that need to be shoved from the nest. I’ve tried but they refuse to go and I’m tired of making failed attempts. I spend more time these days out on the ranch then I do here listening to their poisonous diatribes.”

Small of stature with a face weathered by years spent playing in the sun and on horseback, Rita was the quintessential image of an older woman living on a ranch. She curled up in the chair next to Carson’s and watched the flames flicker and dance while Carson picked at his dinner.

“Whiskey Rita?”

“I’d love one Carson.”

The siblings settled into a comfortable silence, each deep in their own thoughts. Dove had curled up between then on the rug in front of the fireplace. The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fireplace and Dove’s purring.

“I’ve made some decisions tonight Rita.” Carson spoke finally. His voice sounded both light and weary with the weight of those decisions. “Those petulant brats are going to be furious and I don’t expect the decisions to be greeted with cheers or love. In fact, I expect the exact opposite.”

“Carson, whatever you’ve decided you have my full support. Neither of us are getting any younger and it’s time they learned to fend for themselves. I’ve been thinking about taking a vacation, an extended vacation mind you. I love the ranch and have been happy here but I need a break.”

“Go Rita, book a vacation wherever you want for as a long as you want. You know that time and money isn’t an issue. You have been more help through the years that I can ever repay and I owe you a debt of thanks I cannot I can never express adequately.”

“Carson stop. It was my pleasure and it gave my life a purpose when I needed one. I do appreciate your support on vacation however. I will let you know.” Her voice was tired but the smile on her face was beautiful.

Carson stood and stoked the fire down for the evening. “I’m going to bed. It’s late. I suggest you do the same.” Carson’s voice was gruff as he ruffled his younger sister’s hair just like when they were younger. She had the same reaction, she reflexively swatted his hand away as she stood up to follow him.

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Posting Delay Apology

I apologize for not posting for the last several days.  I was struck low by the worst migraine of my life and the ability to sit in front of the computer and type was beyond my abilities.  Life has returned to normal now and as such there will be more installments posted in the coming days.  Carson’s short story will be wrapping up and a new one beginning. 

So stay tuned folks, I haven’t forgotten about posting I just haven’t been functional.

Carson Stone, Part Three

As Carson and Dove drove east through Smithson toward the ranch, he appreciated the darkness engulfing the tower pines surrounding the town. The darkness in Smithson was broken only by the light spilling from the odd open business and his headlights as he drove down Main Street. Carson was glad that the town had agreed that light pollution would only ruin their collective view of the heavens in a town council meeting several years back.

As Carson drove home, he reflected on how best to revisit the decision to disband the office with Rafe and Gabe. He knew that the decision was his alone to make but somehow he needed to make sure the two of them understood what an opportunity he was presenting them. In their mid-thirties, it wasn’t too late to strike out on their own to make their own fortunes, “But how do I make those two hard-headed, entitled brats suck it up and make something of themselves rather than riding on my coattails for eternity?” Carson asked himself and Dove.

Not expecting a response, Carson hopped out of the car and opened the first cattle gate. After it was closed he continued to drive to the house, tired but energized by his decision earlier and the new project he would be starting. Pulling up to the house, Carson noticed all of the lights on and couldn’t fathom why.

Pulling open the heavy pine door, Carson’s ears were immediately assaulted by the sounds of a heated argument. Dove heard the commotion and bolted for the sanctity of the library. Theresa’s voice crystal clear as she hurled insults and hate at someone.

Theresa was Carson’s oldest child and only daughter, and her second husband had fled two weeks ago. If he were honest, Carson didn’t blame Ben Johnson for fleeing and was amazed he remained married to her for as long as he had. Theresa’s marriage to Ben had not been for love but for money and if Carson had to guess, she had just learned that the pre-nuptial she signed prior to the marriage was unbreakable.

Theresa came stampeding down the stairs, oblivious to all but the person on the other end of the phone conversation.

“I don’t care what you think. Do you know who my father is? Do you know what he will do to your career if you fail to break that ridiculous trash agreement I signed when I married that ball player?” Her voice was shrill, haughty, arrogant, and condescending.

Theresa spied her father and abruptly ended her call. She came flying down the stairs heading toward Carson like a spoiled five-year old expecting Santa Claus to still be there on Christmas morning. Carson neatly side stepped her out stretched arms and Theresa’s venomous glare landed on him as she stumbled and turned to face him. “Why won’t you hug me daddy?” her voice whining and needling.

“Theresa Marie Stone Russo Johnson I’ve told you too many times to count now that I am not getting in the middle of your divorce proceedings. Stop flinging my name about like I’m going to ride in and save you. You are thirty-eight and dammit woman it is high time you started acting like it and took responsibility for your own actions.”

Carson’s words rolled off her like water on a duck, she always got her way and this time would be no different. “But,”

“Just stop right there,” Carson’s voice rung out steady and firm. “I told you repeatedly since Ben left you high and dry two weeks ago that I won’t be your knight in shining armor. Stop using my name in a foolish attempt to bully your divorce attorney. Truth be told, you are lucky I’m letting you stay here at all. Don’t push your luck or you will find yourself out of the house and all contact with me cut off.”

Theresa stared at her father, hate and contempt swimming behind lilac eyes. “Just try me old man, just try me.” Her venom voice filling the foyer with her unspoken promise.

As she said this, she glanced up and saw Rafe and Gabe laughing at her. “Same goes for the two of you sorry, pathetic creatures still suckling at Daddy’s teat all these years later. Grow a pair and man up.”

The twins, not known for liking one another and never doing anything together if it could be helped, laughed at her words in unison. “Oh do shut-up both of you!”

 

 

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Carson Stone, Part Two

Carson slowly swiveled his chair from the peaceful evening stretching before him back to the two very thick files awaiting him on his desk. One file contained the future he wanted to pursue and one file contained the future his sons were determined to manipulate him into protecting. In his heart, Carson knew it was possible to do both adequately but his head wouldn’t stop reminding him of all the very logical reasons why it was time disband the law practice.

Dove made the decision for him inadvertently by draping herself over the legal file. “Alright old girl, you win. I will make an appointment with the clients and tell them that they need to find a different legal eagle.” Carson’s voice was gruff with emotion and tinged with relief. At seventy, the everyday practice of law was exhausting and while still intellectually thrilling, it was more time and effort than Carson wished to devote.

Carson flipped open the other file and a casual observer would have observed the change in his posture and mood immediately. His sun weathered face relaxed into a smile, his hazel eyes quickly skimming the pages in the file, and the tension slowly seeping from his shoulders and spine. Whatever Carson was reading clearly energized him and Dove’s purring grew even louder.

After another hour of reading, Carson started locked the two files away in his desk. Carson was habitual about not taking work home to the ranch, even work that was more pleasure than labor. Over the years, Carson had realized that the ranch was his refuge from the stress and politics of a successful law practice and bringing work back to the ranch only polluted the oasis Rita had so successfully created on his behalf. Something prevented Carson from locking the two files in his desk however and he opened his battered leather briefcase and stowed the files.

After the files were secure in his briefcase, Carson quickly checked his calendar of appointments for tomorrow. An interview at an eleven o’clock with M.M. Connelly and a two o’clock meeting with Jo Olivera the town librarian and historian.

“An easy day,” Carson thought as he stood and looked around him. Darkness had enveloped the world outside his window, the office was quiet and still, and the only sound to be heard was the creaking of the pines and Dove’s purring. “Let’s go home old girl. It’s been a long day and there’s nothing I wouldn’t love more than a whiskey in front of the fire after dinner.” Exhaustion, exhilaration, and weariness tinged his voice as he moved through the office, flickering off the remaining few lights that still glowed.

The office wasn’t large as law offices go, but for a town the size and population of Smithson it was enormous and out of place. However, Smithson was the satellite and refuge for the much larger law offices maintained in Phoenix and Tucson. Very little day to day law was practiced from Smithson but all associates in the firm knew that every important decision in the life of the firm had been made from the Smithson law office. Carson Stone was the sole partner in the firm, something he made sure every potential attorney seeking to join his firm understood would not be changing as time marched forward. Gabe and Rafe managed the day to day business of the practice of law, but Carson’s word was still final on all major decisions.

Pulling the large intricately carved pine door firmly closed behind him, Carson turned his key in the lock and slipped it into his jacket. Carson and Dove climbed into the car, the engine rumbling to life disturbing the peace surrounding the office.

 

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Carson Stone, Part One

Carson stared out his office window at the late afternoon sun filtering through the towering Ponderosa Pines. The noise of the office was settling down as a typical busy Thursday came to an end but he could still feel the tension from his earlier meetings with his sons Gabe and Rafe. His shoulders felt tight with the tension and the words spoken in anger.

Rafe had made a point of stomping out of his father’s office fifteen minutes earlier. His parting words still ringing in Carson’s ears. “Your foolishness old man will not be tolerated much longer, I don’t care how rich you are. I will see you declared incompetent before I allow you to disband this law firm you’ve spent the last forty plus years establishing.”

Gabe had nodded his head, vigorously agreeing with his twin but for once, not vocalizing his opinion. His stocky frame bursting out of his suit seams. Gabe had remained uncharacteristically silent during the meeting but Carson had not failed to notice the quizzical and plotting look behind Gabe’s eyes throughout the heated conversation.

Carson sat in his chair staring at the filtered light as late afternoon slowly slipped into early evening reflecting on his life and career choices. He was an imposing figure in the legal community, a living legend was how he was often referred to in local newspaper and magazine articles. But more than once he had heard the whispers about a living fossil who didn’t know when to retire. Those hushed whispers made Carson smile fondly remembering a time when he too had thought the same about the old guard lawyers in the community.

Dove wandered into the office and wound herself between Carson’s long, out stretched legs before jumping onto his lap. Dove was Carson’s cat and a not so unusual visitor to the law office here in Smithson. This morning the cat had decided that today was her day to spend in the office and Carson had found her asleep at his car door when he left for the office that morning. Dove was an old, pewter gray cat that had one day attached herself to Carson when he was in town. That was over ten years ago and in that time, the two had slowly become inseparable.

Most days Dove stayed at the ranch, content to spend her days napping in front of the fireplace in Carson’s library. He’d often return home to find Dove purring in her sleep and find himself smiling for no reason other than her reliable presence. The ranch house was just outside of the sleepy town of Smithson, about a ten to fifteen minute drive depending on weather.

The ranch had been restored by his younger sister Rita over thirty years ago. The house was large enough to provide the entire extended family with privacy without being ostentatious. The ranch was a working ranch, although nothing like it once was. Carson left the everyday running of the ranch to Rita, and if he were honest with himself, he had let Rita raise his four children. She had done an excellent job given the challenges of living in a remote region of Northern Arizona with a father who was absent for long periods of time.

Carson shook his head, forcing himself back into the present as he petted Dove’s silky back. “Old girl, what am I going to do about those hell raising twins?” In response, Dove head butted his hand back into petting her. “Oh how I wish it were that simple, a head butt and the boys would come to their senses.” There was a wistful quality to Carson’s voice as it echoed off the walls of the now deserted office. The only response was the sound of Dove’s purring.

 

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Welcome to Benefitting Smithson Short Stories

As I work on completing my first novel, I decided that I would begin to introduce characters in the novel in short stories on this site.  I’m aiming to post a portion of every story once a day during the week.  Admittedly, I might miss a day or two between postings depending on how much time I spend writing the actual novel each day.

First character to receive his own short story will be Carson Stone.  Carson is quite the character in the local and state legal community.  Best known for his bolo ties and his misogyny, Carson is contemplating retirement.  There is only one thing stopping Carson from retiring, his twin sons determination to dismantle and destroy the Benefitting Smithson trust.

*All characters, places, and events are the sole creation of the author and are not intended to be reflections of events, places, or persons living or dead.

 

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