Wish List (7 page)

“I’d like an arrangement of small white orchids and those . . . no, no, that’s not what I want. Roses, pink or yellow. White’s okay. No red.”

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re all out of roses. We do have orchids. I could make you a lovely arrangement.”

“Okay.” It
was
okay; he’d followed his own advice and there were no roses. Orchids didn’t mean he was living in the past, orchids meant he had a choice. Huge pompoms, big as grapefruits, or delicate, hybrid orchids. He rather thought the huge blooms were for grandmothers and aunts. He handed over seventy-five dollars after he winced from the shock, gave the address, and filled out the little card. He apologized for his surly attitude, suggested dinner, and promised to be more considerate of her employees.

That done, Lex climbed into his truck. The letter from Asa Able was on the seat. He ripped it open and read the short note, feeling his eyes mist over.

Lex blew his nose lustily. Damn, he was really going to miss Asa. He was upset now, nostalgic, and when he was like this he knew he shouldn’t be around people.

He drove like a robot over familiar terrain until he was at the bridge, at which point he headed over to Tijuana, parked his truck, and got out and walked to the base of the mountains. He stopped at the little house he’d lived in with his family, felt his heart thud in his chest. It looked the same—there seemed to be just as many children, just as many chickens, dogs, and cats. It looked neat and clean, just the way his mother had kept the house. So long ago. So many memories. What the hell was he doing here? And why now? He hadn’t been up the mountain in twenty years. Maybe he should go back. He didn’t belong here. This was another time, another place. He turned to follow his own advice and return to his truck, but something seemed to pull at him, something strange that he couldn’t explain. He turned again and headed up the grassy slope that led to the padre’s retreat that he was sure was now empty.

He remembered another time when his legs had been skinny and his feet had been bare, a time when he’d made this climb with a girl in a soft white dress.

As Lex made his way up, he thought about all the women he’d been with over the years. He couldn’t remember their names now. There should have been one that stood out more than the others, but there wasn’t. Only Aggie, his first love. His only love.

Valentine’s Day.

He continued his climb. Maybe when he reached the fern bower he’d take a nap and dream about a brown-eyed, brown-haired girl who promised to love, honor, and obey until death drove them apart. Then he could climb back down the mountain and get on with his life. He’d be able to put this maudlin day behind him and face the reality of his world.

“Now that was an experience! I thought my heart was going to leap right out of my chest! Did you really feel like you could take on anything? That truck was massive. Massive isn’t even the right word. Humongous. Gigantic. It was absolutely awesome,” Ariel said. “I loved it! I have to call Kenneth and tell him he was right. I came down on him so hard. Oh, my, what’s this? Dolly, look at these flowers. I bet they’re from Max. He’s the only person I know who will spring for more than twenty bucks on flowers. Miniature orchids! Ooohhh, let’s see what the card says. Max is so romantic and this is Valentine’s Day. You’re not going to believe this, Dolly,” Ariel said, handing the card over.

As Dolly reached for the card she noticed Ariel’s hand go to her face. “Stop that!”

“Habit.”

“Get a new one. Chew your nails, suck your thumb, twirl your hair the way you did when you were little. Don’t touch your face. He’s a romantic. Baby orchids. That cost him. This is nice, Ariel. He apologized and invited you to dinner. You’re going, aren’t you? This might turn into something. The girls said he’s handsome as sin. Say something, Ariel.”

“Look at me, Dolly. He’s just being polite. Obviously he needs Able Body Trucking. It’s a package deal. I’m sure he’s a very nice man, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be interested in me. No one is going to be interested in me. I’ve accepted that and I can live with it. I’ll call him and thank him for the flowers. Don’t worry, I’ll be nice. See if Bernice has his home phone number. I’ll do it right now and you can listen.”

Ariel mouthed the words, “He’s not home—his answering machine is picking up.”

This is Lex Sanders. Please leave a message. If this is an emergency, call 425-9698. Thanks for calling.

“Mr. Sanders, this is Ariel Hart. Thank you for the lovely flowers. They’ve been my favorite since childhood. It was very nice of you to send them. I would love to have dinner with you soon, but not right now. My schedule is so full I’m like an accident waiting to happen. Again, thank you for the beautiful flowers.”

“That was nice, Ariel, until you got to that accident part. Oh, well, he’ll call again and invite you. If he does, say yes. The world won’t come to an end. He might turn out to be a good friend like Ken and Max. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Ariel, it’s that you can never have enough friends. Next time, okay?”

“Sure. Next time.”

“I suggest Burger King on our way to-firearms class and let’s do Chinese after martial arts.”

“Sounds good to me. Whatever makes life easier,” Ariel said. “You know what, Dolly? Life is good. I feel great! We did the right thing coming here. I can’t tell you how excited I am. It’s not something I can put into words—it’s a feeling that something wonderful is going to happen. I feel at peace here—I can’t explain that feeling, either. Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you something?”

“I promise.”

“I feel . . . feel like there’s some invisible hand guiding me here. That hand . . . is comforting, making me feel safe, a presence. I never felt anything like this before. I’m afraid I might get spooked and ruin everything. I like to understand things. This move . . . this business . . . Ken finding it at just the right time . . . that hand . . . forget it, I’m just imagining things. Think about it—why would God send me here?”

“I guess you’re the only one who can answer that question. He did send you—the rest is up to you. Maybe you’re supposed to do something meaningful while you’re here. You know, make a difference, maybe right old wrongs, that kind of thing. I seem to remember a conversation we had once where we both agreed that everything in life is preordained.” This last was said so slyly, Ariel jerked around to stare at her friend’s guileless expression.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. More than once Ariel had an eerie feeling that someone, somewhere, was thinking about her. More than once she looked over her shoulder, but there was no one around who seemed to be paying attention to her.

“I’m exhausted. I really enjoyed that Chinese dinner.”

“No mess to clean,” Dolly said tiredly. “I’m for bed. I’m surprised we lasted this long. Actually, I could have fallen asleep at nine o’clock.”

“Are you kidding? I was ready at seven-thirty. See you in the morning.” She hugged her best friend in the whole world, the way she did every night. “Thanks for coming here with me. I’ve been thinking, Dolly, if we get this business to the point where we can run it successfully, I’m going to make you a partner. We’ll hire a housekeeper. You shouldn’t be doing all this anymore.”

“It’s all I know, Ariel. Not for nothing you won’t. If that time comes, I’ll buy in with whatever savings I have. I won’t allow you just to give it to me.”

“We’ll talk about it when the time comes. ’Night, Dolly.”

“Sleep tight, Ariel.”

As Ariel prepared for bed, her thoughts drifted back to the past, to a happier time. She’d give anything to be young again and in love. She had so many longings and desires that had never been fulfilled. You should have tried harder to find Felix, she scolded herself. It’s entirely possible that that lawyer took your money and lied to you. Maybe you really were married. Maybe that attorney was wrong when he said Felix tricked you. He was a priest—he wore a white collar. Priests don’t lie. Then why wasn’t the marriage recorded? Why couldn’t Mr. Anthony find any records? “I don’t know,” Ariel whispered to her reflection in the mirror. She continued to massage cocoa butter up and around the scars on her face. Disgusted with her reflection, she tossed the medicated stick into the sink.

She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, the wish list in her lap. She flipped the pages to her last entry. She wrote haltingly.
I wish I knew what was happening to me. I wish I knew what it was that brought me here. I know it wasn’t just the business. I wish . . . I wish I could find Felix. I wish . . . so many things. I wish I knew if he was happy . . . I wish I knew if he was married with children . . . I wish I was beautiful again. I wish he would think about me. Maybe that’s why I feel the way I do . . . Maybe all my wishing is making Felix think about me. Maybe he’s close by. I wish . . . Oh, God, I wish . . . for happiness. For myself and for Felix. I wish
. . .

With tears dripping down her cheeks, Ariel shoved the wish list under her pillow. “Tomorrow I’ll set the wheels in motion. I’ll try to find Felix. I want to know if he’s happy. I won’t invade his life or try to rekindle anything. Perhaps I can make his life better—I certainly have the money to do that. If he’s doing all right, maybe I can help his family out in some way. Anonymously, of course. Thirty-five years isn’t so long. I’m here. I was meant to come here. Everything happens for a reason, I truly believe that.

A moment later she was asleep.

Twenty-five miles away, in Bonsall, Lex Sanders was pulling off his boots. He debated half a minute about whether or not to shower. He decided to go for it even though he was exhausted. He padded naked to the bathroom, taking a second to press the message unit on his private answering machine. He smiled at a garbled message from one of his nieces and then one from his sister that was just as bad. When he heard Ariel Hart’s voice he stopped and listened. His eyebrows shot upward in surprise. He pressed the Save button and rewound the tape. He didn’t know why.

Lex danced beneath the cold, needle-sharp spray. When he was sure he was about to turn blue he switched to Hot, then did another jig before leaping from the shower. He pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and settled down in bed. Ten minutes earlier he’d been tired to the bone. Now he was wide awake, elated and yet confused; how could a sweet-sounding voice confuse and elate him at the same time?

A soft knock sounded on the door. “Señor Sanders, I have the sandwich and milk for you. An enchilada just the way you like it. Corona beer in case you don’t wish the milk. Good night, Señor.”

“Good night, Tiki.”

He was wide awake with no one to call and nothing to do but watch television. And no
TV Guide
. He flipped the channels the way he did every night. Reruns, late-night talk shows, infomercials. Surely there was a movie somewhere. More commercials. And then he saw her. A young Ariel Hart—but not that young. Maybe late thirties. All golden and warm with a sunny smile to match. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Cornflower blue. Now, where did that come from? Because the male actor had just said her eyes reminded him of a field of cornflowers? What the hell were cornflowers, anyway? How corny can you get? He snorted his displeasure before he swigged from the beer bottle.

Lex settled deeper into the pillows. Here was his chance to get to know Ariel Hart, super sleuth. A female private dick. He snorted again. She looked believable, even appeared believable. She packed a gun, a sizeable looking gun. She was pointing it, threatening to shoot. He leaned forward for a better look when he noticed the angle of the gun. The man’s lower extremities. Lex groaned. Pure Hollywood. At its worst.