Les Morrison stepped out of the shower, towel dried, and pulled on a pair of beat-up sweatpants and his first Tulane sweatshirt, which was full of holes. He stared at himself in the mirror and burst out laughing. He'd shaved his beard yesterday and he now looked like himself. He slicked his curly hair back but knew the moment it dried it would be all over the place.Maybe I'll get a buzz cut over the weekend. If I can find the time. He thought to himself.Max, who dogged him everywhere he went, barked sharply. "Yeah, yeah I know, Max, we're running behind schedule, but Pop threw me for a loop when he said he wouldn't be here for dinner. Did you see him, Max? He looked like a dandy, all duded up and wearing aftershave! I think he's stepping out on me is what I think." He said. Les tousled his hair, he was stupid talking to a dog but unlike other dogs, Max was smart, "Okay, let's see what Mrs. Davis left us for dinner."Everything, including Max's dinner, would be in the warming oven.
Las Vegas, Nevada.October, 2005.Two Months Before Christmas. It was a beautiful four-story building with clean lines, glittering plate glass and a golden rod colored door. A tribute to the architect who designed the building. An elongated piece of driftwood attached to the right of the door was painted the same shade of goldenrod. The plaque said it was the Karen Morrison Building. The overall opinion of visitors and clients was that the building was remarkable, which was the architect and owner’s objective.The young sun was just creeping over the horizon when Les Morrison tucked his briefcase between his knees, searching his jean pocket for the key that would unlock his pride and joy, the Karen Morrison Building which was named after his mother. Opening the door, Les turned off the alarm and flicked the light switch on. Taking a moment, he looked around the lobby of the building he’d designed when he was still in college studying architecture. He was a lucky man for he’d been ab
Les decided he didn’t feel like making coffee. He was too nervous around this couple from his hometown. He knew in his gut they were going to tell him something he didn’t want to hear. He pressed a button on the console. “Hillary, will you bring some coffee into my office? I have two guests. Also bring some mini-baked donuts." Les whirled around, hoping to delay the moment they were going to tell him why they were really here. “So, what do you think of Nevada?” Les asked. The couple both looked at each other, “Oh, we're old and don’t fit in here, that’s for sure,” Joyce said with a smile on her face. “We’re simple people, Lester. You know all those fancy cars, they cost more than our farm and bring in more money for over ten years. The stores with all those expensive clothes where they hide the price tags made my eyes water. Our son-in-law took us to Ro-day-o Drive. That was the name of it, wasn’t it, Alfred? Hollywood people,” she sniffed. Having enough already, "Will you just p
A week later and three thousand miles away in Boston, Massachusetts. Thirty-two-old career woman Hazel Myers was on an emotional high as she packed her already overfilled briefcase.She looked around her cluttered office and sighed. One of these days she really had to give some thought to organizing things. She knew it wasn’t going to happen because she loved living in clutter, and loved that she could instantly lay her hands on anything she needed. Hazel Myers owned a public relations firm in the heart of Dorchester. It employed three full-time staff members; two part-time moms whose schedules she worked around, a receptionist-slash-secretary, and a battle-scarred, bushy-haired orange tabby cat named Roxie she had found half-starved in the basement of the building she rented. If anyone reigned supreme at the Myers Agency, it was Roxie who greeted clients by purring and strutting her stuff. He had quickly become the favorite of the residents. Roxie knew how to turn on the computer,
Some hours later with four stops along the way, Hazel pulled into her mother’s driveway on Little Pumpkin Lane. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. She was home. The house where she’d grown up. A house of secrets. The house where she’d been lonely, sad, angry. So many memories.Now why had she expected her mother to be standing in the doorway waiting to greet her. Because that’s what mothers usually did when an offspring returned home for a visit."A stupid expectation." Hazel decided.She climbed out of the car, leaving Roxie in the car while she unloaded her bags and boxes of things she’d brought with her.After Four trips into her house, Hazel carried Roxie into the house and settled her and her litter box in the laundry room. She called her mother’s name, knowing there would be no answer. Her mother was a busy lady who did good deeds twenty-four/seven.All she did was sleep at the house. It was like that while she was growing up, too. Laura Myers for the most part h
Exhausted from his long trip, Max was excited to get out and run. Les pulled up to the entrance of Morrison Farms and looked at the battered sign swinging on one hinge from the craved post. A lump rose in his throat but there was nothing a few nails, new hinges, and some paint couldn't do and it would be good as new.Les ascend a steep hill lined with ancient fragrant evergreens, their massive trunks covered in dark green moss. At the top of the hill, Les parked his BMW Z4 and got out of the car to look down at the valley full of every kind of evergreen imaginable. He saw the Douglas first, the blue spruce field, and to the left of that, the long-needle Scotch pine.He shaded his eyes from the sun to see the fields of Balsam fir, Concolor Fir, Fraser firs and Norway Spruce. To the left as far as the eye could see were the fields of white pines and the white firs. The Austrian pines looked glorious, and three fields of Virginia pines seemed to go on to infinity. When he was done admir
Hazel jerked awake when Roxie stirred in her lap, not too long, she heard the front door slammed shut. Her mother was home.Groggy from the short nap, Hazel combed her hair with her fingers, tightened the velvet bow at the back of her head, she readied herself for what she knew would probably be an unpleasant encounter with her mother.She waited at the top of the steps to see if her mother would call her name, acknowledge her presence in some way, such a silly thought.Evidently, Roxie was of the same opinion as she hissed and snarled, cycling Hazel’s ankle. She bent down to pick up the unhappy cat and descended the steps calling her mother’s name twice before she entered the kitchen. Laura Myers waved airily as she babbled into the cell phone clutched between her ear and her cheek. She was opening a container of yogurt and sprinkling something that looked like gravel over the top. A bottle of mineral water was clutched under one arm as she jugg
Steve Morrison sat on the top of the newly repaired steps that leads to the front porch. There was a time when the porch held pumpkins with lit candles, cornstalks, and a few scarecrows. So long ago. Now the porch was empty, just the way he was empty.It was full dark now, a breeze swept over the tops of the trees to make them sway. an hour past supper. The only thing he'd eaten today was a frozen Tv dinner at lunchtime that tasted like cardboard because the pot of stew he'd made wasn't done cooking. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. He sighed.Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a line of headlights heading out of the fields. The drivers of the vehicles wouldn't see him sitting on the steps because of the big blue spruce at the corner of the house blocked the view of the porch. Les's workers, that's how he thought of them, wouldn't be grazing about anyway. They'd be in a hurry to get home to their families and a warm supper. Les would be the last one to come down the