A Change in Altitude (17 page)

Downstairs, they filed outside to wait in what Barb referred to as “the front garden,” though it was actually a narrow strip of grass flanked by two small rose bushes and a handful of zinnias. Bees buzzed around the flowers and Lucille slipped on sunglasses to fight the glare off the home's white siding.

“What did you think?” Junior asked.

“He said he liked the town. That was good.”

Junior shoved both hands in his pants pockets and frowned up at the house. “Has he said yet what kind of movie he wants to make?”

“He's only been here ten minutes,” Lucille said. “Give him time.”

Which may have been a poor choice of words, she thought thirty minutes later when they were still waiting for Amesbury to join them. The front door opened and they all perked up like schoolchildren at the final bell, but it was only Barb.

“What's taking him so long?” Paul demanded. “He's not taking a nap, is he?”

Barb's smile had vanished, and her poise was frayed at the edges. “He asked for ice, then he wanted a different pillow, then he didn't like the toilet paper.” She gave a delicate shudder. “I now know far too much about the man's hemorrhoids, but I was finally able to satisfy him.”

“Thank you, Barb. The town appreciates everything you're doing,” Reggie said.

“They'd better.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Jimmy's with him now, talking golf and trying to ease him toward the door. He said he's eager to soak up the ‘atmosphere.' ”

“He'll have plenty of opportunity to do that,” Lucille said. “After lunch at the Last Dollar he gets the VIP tour of the town.”

“And he's agreed to an interview for the paper,” Maggie said. “I'm hoping I can get him to talk more about his movie.”

“What's the big secret about the movie anyway?” Junior asked.

“He said it was such a fabulous idea he's afraid someone will steal it from him if he talks about it too much,” Lucille said. “But he's promised to tell us all about it before he leaves town.”

“I hope it's a western,” Reggie said. “I love a good western; they don't make enough of those.”

“I hope whatever it is, it takes a long time to film and requires a big crew and a lot of actors who'll need to stay in town and spend money,” Lucille said.

The front door opened and Jimmy emerged, followed by the director, who'd added a battered cowboy hat and a leather satchel to his outfit. “I'm at your disposal, Madam Mayor,” he said.

“We thought lunch first, then a short tour of the town,” she said, leading the way to the SUV she'd borrowed from Olivia and D. J. for the day.

“Lunch sounds marvelous. And I'm really hoping to get to meet more of the locals while I'm in town. I want to get a real flavor for Eureka's personality.”

“I'm sure that won't be a problem,” she said. “People here are very curious about you.”

“I don't imagine celebrities make it this far back in the hinterlands, do they?”

Lucille didn't know if a director she'd never heard of counted as a celebrity, but she wisely kept her mouth shut while Amesbury and Reg made small talk about the flight from Hollywood to Denver to Montrose. She pulled into the reserved parking spot in front of the Last Dollar ahead of a crowd of townspeople hoping to catch a glimpse of the man himself. He emerged from the SUV smiling and waving like the grand marshal at a parade and people responded with applause, which seemed to please him.

Inside the Last Dollar, Danielle and Janelle, wearing matching Betty Boop T-shirts, ushered the welcoming party and their guest to a long table in the center of the room. “How perfectly quaint,” Amesbury said, looking around the room. “You've gone all out with the rustic theme.”

Danielle's smile grew strained. “It's not really a theme,” she said. “It's just things people have given us to display.”

Amesbury's grin widened as he surveyed a trio of singing trout mounted on the wall behind his head. “I know designers in Hollywood who would kill for this kind of kitsch.” He handed back the menu Danielle gave him. “Just serve me whatever you have that's local, organic, fresh, and a specialty of the house.”

“Vegetarian or carnivore?” Danielle asked.

“I'm not afraid of meat. What have you got?”

“The elk steak is fresh, and you can't get much more local and organic. Junior took it off his lease up near Garnet Mountain. It comes with home fries and the soup of the day or vegetable. We've got broccoli from our garden.”

“It sounds divine.” He looked her up and down wolfishly. “I can see I'm going to be eating here a lot while I'm in town.”

“We have the best food in the county.” Janelle set a glass of water in front of him. “Save room for dessert. Danielle's a wizard in the kitchen.”

“I'll just bet she is.” He looked around Janelle to watch Danielle as she walked back toward the kitchen.

“Uh-oh,” Maggie whispered to Lucille. “He's going to be disappointed if he goes after Danielle.”

“Let's hope Janelle doesn't dump a pot of hot coffee in his lap first.” Lucille leaned toward the director. “We're all very curious to know more about the movie you're planning,” she said.

“It's not a movie,” he said.

“Oh?” Across the table, Reggie raised his eyebrows.

“It's a TV series.”

“So you have to film a pilot and sell the network on the idea?” Barb asked.

“That's how some people do it, but in my case the network's crazy about the idea, and they're familiar with my work, so they've already given me the green light. I just have to find the right location to film—and the right cast, of course.”

“Who do you have in mind for the cast?” Katya asked.

“I prefer to use unknowns in a project like this.” He smiled up at Danielle as she set a bowl of vegetable soup in front of him. “Did you make this yourself, darling?” he asked.

“Janelle makes the soup.”

“I get it. And you're in charge of the hot buns.”

Maggie, who sat on Lucille's right, made a choking sound and reached for her iced tea.

Danielle ignored him and moved down the table to serve the others. “So I gather your proposed television series is set in a small town in the mountains?” Barb asked the director.

“It doesn't have to be in the mountains, but I'm looking for a small village with a slower pace of life, removed from life's modern conveniences.”

“If you mean things like movie theaters and fast-food chains, Eureka doesn't have those,” Lucille said.

“I noticed my 4G smartphone connection doesn't work at the bed-and-breakfast,” he said. “I can't tell you how happy that made me. And I didn't see a single Starbucks downtown.”

“Some people consider that to be one of Eureka's advantages,” Junior said.

“Oh, it's ideal for my purposes.”

Janelle arrived with his steak and he took a moment to contemplate the large slab of meat. “That's certainly impressive,” he said. “I'm sure a vegetarian would choke.”

“We serve vegetarian food also,” Janelle said. “And vegan, if you like.”

“Well, we won't tell anyone about that. Why ruin the tension?” With this strange statement, he cut into the meat.

Lucille picked at her chopped salad. She ought to be thrilled at the idea of a television show setting up home in Eureka. If the show was a hit, they could look forward to years of filming, not to mention an influx of tourists who'd want to see the real town behind the series.

But Amesbury's glee at Eureka's “quaintness” annoyed her. He acted as if they were backward, or a bunch of hicks.

He was finishing up the last of his steak when a strident voice from the front of the room destroyed any appetite Lucille might have had left. “I don't need you to show me to a table, Danielle,” Cassie said. “I see exactly the person I need to talk to right over there.”

The librarian made a beeline for Amesbury at the head of the table. Lucille noted Cassie had pulled out all the stops today: She wore her grandmother's pearls and matching drop earrings with a wide-collared white blouse, gray pencil skirt, and sensible pumps, and she'd added pink lipstick and two spots of pink blush to her normally pale face. Call it librarian chic, as only Cassie knew how to do it. “Welcome to Eureka, Mr. Amesbury,” she said.

Still chewing, Amesbury regarded Cassie. He swallowed. “Thank you, ma'am. And you are?”

“Cassie Wynock. Town librarian and president of the Eureka County Historical Society.”

Amesbury wiped his hand on his napkin and offered it. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Wynock.”

Cassie shook his hand, then just stood there, staring at him. The others looked on, too stunned—or perhaps too afraid—to say anything.

“Is there something else I can do for you?” Amesbury asked.

“Yes, I want to audition for a part in your movie.”

“It's not a movie. It's a television show.”

“Even better. A continuing drama allows much more opportunity to truly develop a character.”

“Uh, yes.” His mouth twitched. “Have you acted before Ms., uh, what was your name again?”

“Wynock.
Miss
Cassie Wynock. And yes. I was the lead in our town's Founders' Day Pageant, which I not only starred in, but wrote and directed. You can ask anyone and they'll tell you the program was a popular triumph.”

“Well, I'll definitely take that into consideration when I sit down to cast the production. Thank you for stopping by.”

“Here's your dessert, Mr. Amesbury.” Danielle inserted herself between Cassie and the director. “Linzer torte.”

“It looks almost as delicious as you.” He beamed at her.

Cassie frowned at the slab of sugar-dusted pastry. “She stole the recipe from my grandmother,” she said. “I don't know how she did it, but I swear it's the same.”

“Well, I'm sure it will be delicious.”

Reggie stood. “Cassie, perhaps Mr. Amesbury can stop by the library later to continue this conversation.”

“That would be lovely.” She gave him a thin smile, pink lips pressed tightly together. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

She had been gone a full minute before Amesbury looked up from the crumbs of his torte and noticed the rest of the table was staring at him. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I apologize for Cassie interrupting like that,” Lucille said. “She can be a little eccentric at times.”

“Is she really the town librarian?”

“Oh yes.”

“She looks like she could be a real tartar.”

“Yes, she can be,” Lucille agreed.

“Then she'll be perfect. I'll have to find a way to work her into the show.”

“You think Cassie would be right for your show?” Lucille felt a little light-headed. “But you don't even know if she can act.”

“It doesn't matter. She thinks she can, and people like that are some of the best participants. I want real characters who will rub up against the other cast members. The more unique, the better.”

“Yes, Cassie is unique,” Reggie said.

“So you think you might choose Eureka as the location for filming?” Maggie asked.

“Nothing's certain yet. I'll need to see more of the town, and there are a lot of logistics to work out. We'll need somewhere for the cast to stay.”

“I'm sure I could accommodate some of them at the B and B,” Barb said.

“Oh, no, we'll need something much more rustic. An old barn, maybe. Heated by a wood stove, with an outdoor privy. Is there anything like that around here?”

“Well, I don't know . . .” Lucille stopped trying to hide her confusion.

“I knew it—this is a historical show.” Reggie slapped his knee. “You want period authenticity.”

“Oh, no, it's a contemporary piece. I just want to be sure I convey the primitive nature of the surroundings to the audience.”

“Mr. Amesbury, Eureka has indoor plumbing and has for over a century.” Lucille couldn't quite keep the snippiness out of her tone.

“Well, yes, but our viewers don't have to know that.”

“What kind of show—exactly—is this going to be?” she asked.

He smacked his lips over the last of the torte, then dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the napkin. “The idea is to take a group of twenty-somethings from the city—attractive, hip up-and-comers—and dump them off in the middle of nowheresville America, and show them struggling to cope without their iPads and skinny mocha lattes and hipster hangouts. It'll make for some fantastic drama and comedy. The network's crazy about the idea.”

“You want to shoot a reality TV show in Eureka?” She had trouble getting the words out.

“Killer, isn't it? We'll make the kids chop wood and eat elk steak and interact with people like Miss Wynock—audiences will eat it up.”

“And we'll come off looking like a bunch of dumb hicks.” Junior threw down his napkin and stood up. “I won't be a part of it.”

“On the contrary,” Amesbury said. “You could all come off looking like heroes—the salt of the earth simple people who make this country great.”

The only answer was the sound of Maggie's pen as she furiously scribbled in her reporter's notebook. “What do we do now, Lucille?” Reggie asked.

She swallowed. Once again, she was responsible for putting the town in a predicament. “If everyone is finished eating, we'll show Mr. Amesbury some more of the town,” she said. “After all, that's what he came to see.” Even if he viewed everything through a filter that alarmed her, he might find something positive to showcase. Or maybe he'd choose some other town to play host to his spoiled hipsters.

“H
e wants to film a reality TV show about a bunch of hipsters who have to survive in a small town without coffee shops and sushi bars.” Maggie wedged another pillow behind her back and tried to decide if that helped or not. At this point in her pregnancy, no position was truly comfortable.

“Who would want to watch something like that?” Jameso climbed into bed beside her.

“Apparently a lot of people. He said ‘the network' was excited about the project.”

“Then let him do it. His money spends as well as the next guy's.” He arranged his own stack of pillows and picked up a suspense novel from the bedside table.

“He wants to stick these people from the city in a barn with a wood stove for heat and an outhouse, and let viewers think that's how we all live in the mountains.”

“It's almost how you lived when you first came here, up in Jake's cabin.”

“I had indoor plumbing!” She punched the pillow and wedged it more firmly against the small of her back. “And that's not the point. He wants to make Eureka the butt of a joke. He even wants to cast Cassie in the show.”

“Cassie Wynock?”

“Yes, she interrupted lunch to introduce herself and tell him she wanted a part in the show. You know how Cassie is—she can't help but come off as abrasive and, well, weird.”

“That's because she is. Abrasive and weird.”

“Yes, but Chris Amesbury wants to exploit her weirdness and play it up. He'll make her think she's going to be a star or something, but she'll end up looking foolish.”

“Cassie doesn't need his help to do that.” He opened his book.

She hated it when he was so calm and reasonable when she was annoyed. He was supposed to get incensed right along with her. “It's not right to use people that way,” she said.

“If people get pulled into a scheme like this by their own vanity and greed, why not let them go?” he asked. “I might even tune in to see Cassie confront a bunch of hipsters who want to use the library computers without first jumping through all her hoops. It would be hilarious.”

“Lucille is so upset. She wanted to do this to help the town.”

“If this guy brings in money, and tourists who want to come here and spend their money, it will help.”

“Not if it turns Eureka into a joke.”

He set aside the book and turned on his side toward her. “Since when do you care so much about what people think of Eureka?” he asked.

She smoothed the blankets over the mound of her belly. “This is my home now. Of course I care about it. Or I care about the people in it. No one likes to be made to look backward or ignorant or foolish—and that's what this director wants to do to all of us.”

“I'm supposed to take him on a Jeep tour tomorrow. Should I dump him off a cliff?”

The offer surprised a laugh from her. “That might be a little bit extreme.”

“If Jake were alive, he'd regale the guy with stories about people who had gotten on the wrong side of folks around here and disappeared down a mine shaft. He'd have him packing to leave before nightfall.”

“Amesbury would have made Jake the star of his show. He's just the kind of ‘character' he's looking for.”

“And Jake would have loved it,” Jameso said. “He'd have gone out of his way to make the director and the hipsters look foolish. And it's what we'll do if he tries to come in here and manipulate us.” He squeezed her knee. “This could still work out good—we'll get Amesbury's money and a little notoriety, but he won't get the best of us.”

He sounded so certain. So reassuring. Maybe he was worth keeping around after all. “I suppose you're right. I worry too much. Rick's happy anyway. He's putting the story about this possible reality show on the front page.”

“It will be hard to top the picture of Cassie up on a ladder on the front page of this week's issue.” He laughed. “I cut it out and pinned it on the wall behind the bar at the Dirty Sally.”

“Your niece was in that picture, too. I don't think Sharon was too happy about that.”

“Sharon worries too much, too. Alina's a good kid.”

“You've been spending more time with her lately, haven't you?”

“I have. I thought at first I wouldn't know what to say to a kid, but she's smart and fun to be around.” He rolled onto his back again, eyes focused on the ceiling. “She reminds me of hanging out with Sharon when we were younger.”

Did she imagine the wistfulness in his voice? A longing for old connections that had been severed? He'd probably say she was being too sentimental. “It's good that you can be there for Alina now,” she said. “She needs another adult besides her mom whom she can talk to.”

“Did you have someone like that when you were her age?”

“No, it was just my mom and me.” She'd had plenty of conversations with her imaginary father—a man as different from the reclusive, troubled Jake Murphy as he could be.

“Jake shouldn't have walked out the way he did.”

“No, he shouldn't have. But that's old news.” In this last year, as she'd learned more about Jake, she'd been able to forgive him for leaving her and her mother. She didn't fully understand his reasoning, and she'd never condone his behavior; she wasn't even sure she'd have liked the man much if she'd had the chance to know him. But he was her father, and she believed he'd tried to do right by her. Not hard enough, and he'd ended up missing the mark by a wide margin, but he had tried. “I don't know what kind of man Alina's father is, but I'm sure she misses him,” she said.

“She does. She misses her brother, too.”

The mention of Sharon's missing boy set up an ache in Maggie's chest. Was it because she was so soon to be a mother herself? “I hope they find Adan soon,” she said. “For his sake, but for Sharon's, too. This must be so hard on her.”

“Alina talks to me more than her mother does. Sharon just says she's fine when I ask her if there's anything I can do to help.”

“That's because there's nothing you can do. Some things even tough mountain men can't fix.”

“I'd fix Joe, if I could find him.”

“What do you think happened to him? Do the police have any idea?”

“I think Joe wanted to retreat even farther from society and he took Adan with him,” Jameso said. “They're hiding out in the Great North Woods somewhere, living off the land and stockpiling ammunition for the end times.”

“That's no way for a teenager to live. Can you imagine?”

“Adan probably thinks it's great—he doesn't have to go to school or clean his room or any of that stuff. But one day he'll get tired of being under Joe's thumb, and there'll be trouble.”

“Is that what happened to you, with your father?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer. Jameso so seldom talked about his family, only that his father had been an abuser and that Jameso had left home as soon as he could.

His expression darkened, closed off. “I finally got big enough that he couldn't hurt me anymore,” he said. “That's when I left. Sharon left later that year, too. Maybe without me around she felt like she had to marry Joe in order to be safe.”

Guilt was such a powerful, terrible thing. She heard the shame and regret behind Jameso's words, though he'd probably never admit to those feelings out loud. “She stayed with Joe a long time,” she said. “I think there must have been something there besides fear.”

“I hope so.” He crossed his arms over his chest, gaze fixed on the ceiling still. She could feel him closing her off and wanted to shake him.

She stroked his arm. “You're going to be a great dad, you know.”

He didn't answer for a long moment. When he did finally speak, his voice was soft. “I hope so. I want to be. It feels like I have a lot working against me—history, a lot of bad examples.”

“You're your own person. That's what made me fall in love with you.”

She felt some of the tension drain out of him. “I thought it was the motorcycle leathers.” He sat up and pulled her close.

She settled against him. “Mmm. That, too.”

“I love you, Maggie. You know that, right?”

“I do know it.” There had been a time when she'd doubted the truth behind those words, but no more. “It'll be all right, Jameso. We'll be all right, and so will Sharon and Alina.” And Adan too, she hoped.

 

Sharon eyed the man on the other side of the circulation desk. Chris Amesbury wore an Indiana Jones–style fedora and a denim work shirt with the sleeves rolled up, over skinny jeans and hiking books that were so new they squeaked. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand what you're looking for,” she said.

“I'm compiling a list of the most interesting people in Eureka,” he said. “People with unusual hobbies or habits that might interest television viewers. Obviously, this is a difficult task for someone who doesn't live here. But as a librarian, you know all your patrons and their reading tastes, so I thought you might point me in the direction of some Eurekians who might be good candidates for my list.”

She suspected
interesting people
was code for eccentrics and nuts. Didn't he think it might be just a bit insulting for him to pick out the oddest people in town as representatives of “typical Eurekians”? He had a lot of nerve, asking her to help him in his quest. “Information about the books people check out is confidential,” she said.

“Of course.” He leaned across the counter and looked into her eyes, in a way he probably thought was charming. “I'm not asking you to divulge state secrets, just give me a little help. For instance, who, in your professional opinion, is the most eccentric person in town?”

In her short time in Eureka, she'd become acquainted with more than a few people who might qualify as “most eccentric.” The mountains attracted people who marched to a different drummer. “I don't have a professional opinion on that subject,” she said.

The buzzer on the back door sounded and Cassie entered, returning from her lunch break. “The lilacs are going to be truly spectacular this year,” she called. “Another week and the bushes here at the library will be in their full glory.” She emerged from the back hallway and froze when she spotted their visitor. “Mr. Amesbury! Such a pleasure to see you.” She sent Sharon a look that clearly said,
You can leave now, I'll take care of him.
Sharon gladly took a few steps back toward her desk. Speaking of eccentrics, Cassie could be number one on Amesbury's list.

“Miss Wynock! Or may I call you Cassie? I was hoping I'd find you here.”

Twin spots of pink bloomed on Cassie's cheeks. “So nice of you to stop by. I hope you're enjoying your visit to Eureka so far.”

“I am. This morning I was taken on a guided tour of the surrounding mountains by one of the locals, who regaled me with tales of an area legend named Jake Murphy. Quite the character. I wish I could have met him.”

The wattage on Cassie's smile dimmed at the mention of Jake Murphy. Sharon had heard her share of stories about Maggie's father—about how he built Janelle and Danielle a fireproof chicken house after bigots destroyed their first one; how he climbed Mount Garnet every Fourth of July to hang the flag at the pioneer cabin there; how he'd won the trophy at the Hard Rock Days competition three years running, and about how he'd abandoned Maggie and her mother three days after Maggie was born, then left her everything he owned in his will. None of the stories Sharon had heard involved Cassie, but clearly the librarian had little love for Jake or his memory.

“I'm sure you're not really interested in someone who isn't even around anymore,” Cassie said. “Can I help you with something else? Do you need to use one of our computers, or would you like to do some research about the town?”

“Research, yes! That's exactly why I'm here.” He explained his mission to ferret out information about the town's most eccentric “characters.” Sharon sat frozen, fingers poised over her keyboard, waiting for Cassie to launch into a speech about privacy rights and rules and the impropriety of divulging information about the library's patrons.

“I'd love to help you,” she said, and Sharon almost fell out of her chair. Who had replaced the real, acerbic, rule-enforcing Cassie with this compliant, even pleasant version?

“I knew I could count on you.” Amesbury opened a small notebook and clicked his pen, poised for any information she could provide.

“Bob Prescott ought to be on your list,” Cassie said. “He isn't rowing with all his oars in the water.”

“In what way, exactly, is Mr. Prescott distinctive?”

“He reads all those survivalist books. He's got a stash of food and ammo big enough to wait out the end times—or so he says.”

Thanks to Joe, Sharon knew plenty of people like Bob. Some of them were odder than others, but none of them was outright nuts—just a little more cautious, or a little more suspicious, than everyone in the mainstream.

“All right, I've got Prescott.” Amesbury looked up from his notebook. “Who else?”

“Let me see.” Cassie touched the tip of one finger to the corner of her mouth in a coquettish pose. “There are so many to choose from.”

The front door to the library opened and a breeze swept through the building, ruffling the papers on Sharon's desk. “Hello, Miss W, Mrs. Franklin.” Lucas Theriot shambled in, followed by Alina, both bent under the burden of backpacks.

“Hi, Mom. Hello, Miss Wynock,” Alina waved and deposited her pack on the center table between the shelves.

Lucas joined her and took a camera from his pack and handed it across to Alina. “Thanks for letting me borrow it,” he said. “I didn't have any luck.”

“Any luck with what?” Sharon asked. Alina gave her a pained look, but she ignored it. A mother had a right to be nosy.