Walking Molly's World

The first one hundred pages of my new book. I tried to publish this as a book and it didn't work, so I'm doing it as a long short story.

Walking Molly's World

The Flight of Molly

Molly was a very pretty sixth grader who wasn't that concerned with her looks, or with the looks of anyone else for that matter. And this caused her some problems. Casually dressed in jeans, sneakers and t-shirts she often outshone others who put a great deal of effort into their appearance. And this spawned jealousy.

And she had another unfair advantage, a slight Scandinavian accent which adults found “cute”, and which the other grade schoolers found interesting. And to make matters even worse, she was popular with the barely pubescent boys. In fact, she preferred their company and they liked her. They found her to be a bit odd, but they were far enough along in their development to enjoy having a pretty girl accept them and interact with them. And for the most part they accepted her.

Even Jerry liked her. Jerry the class hoodlum, whose specialty was hiding his mouth behind his hands and uttering, in a very weird voice, a barely intelligible obscenity. The precise obscenity varied from performance to performance. Molly could ape the voice and often they muttered obscenities in tandem when the class was in motion and things were noisy. Jerry noticed that he rarely got into trouble when Molly worked with him and often the teachers laughed before telling them to knock it off.

Molly's jeans were becoming ragged in the back where the heels of her tennis shoes stepped on them and wore away the bottom hem.

“Look!”, Molly said, showing her father the chewed out portion of the back leg of her jeans. “All my pants are like this. We need to go to Ranch Supply and get some more.”

“You have plenty of clothing”, said her father. Molly really didn't have a mother. She was far away and Molly rarely saw her.

“I don't. Everything I have is ragged like these jeans.”

“Let's go look in your room. I bet there are some nice things there.” And with this her father walked down the hall to her bedroom.

“Look at this”, said her father. “Here are four new outfits. You would look wonderful in all of them. And you haven't even touched them.”

“I don't like dresses.”

“OK”, said her father, opening the dresser. “Here are nice slacks. How many pairs. One, two, three, four, five. And nice blouses on the other side of the closet. And look, three nice pairs of shoes that you never wear.”

“I told you, I don't like them. Can we get some jeans? I need some decent jeans.”

And that Saturday Molly and her father went clothes shopping. They went to Nordstrom's in the Paseo Nuevo mall on State Street, a fine place to buy young lady's clothing in the opinion of Molly's father. And if they were successful there, there were other, even more exclusive shops in the mall nearby.

“Hello”, her father said to the sales lady. “This is Molly and she needs some new clothing.”

“Hi Molly”, said the sales lady. “What are you looking for?”

“Jeans.”

“We can get jeans at Ranch Supply”, said her father. “Let's see what else they have.”

“We do have a very good selection of denim”, said the sales lady.

“No, she needs something more feminine. We have lots of jeans. And lots of ski clothing. And lots of skateboard clothing. We need to find something nice for school. And I'm not much of a help and her mom's not around.”

The next hour was taken up with the sales lady presenting one item after another to Molly, who looked on with an expression of exquisite boredom. Finally, allowed to roam the department freely, to see if there was anything she liked, anything at all, she found a couple of pairs of cargo shorts, a pair of track pants, a pair of running shoes and pair of leather flip flops. Defeated, her father purchased the items and headed out to Goleta and Ranch Supply.

There, three pairs of jeans were purchased, and this was easy. Molly always bought the same type and same size. She then moved to the T-shirt section, the guy's T-shirt section.

“I like these Carhart shirts with that heavy cotton. They feel so good. And they have a pocket.”

So several Carhart T-shirts, in various colors, boys size small, were purchased along with the jeans. The shirts were still a bit large on Molly, but she liked them that way.

“I like baggy clothes”, she told her father.

Laying the loot in Molly's room, Molly said, “Thanks dad, I was getting embarrassed with the ragged pants and the girls at school were starting to say things.”

“Well, I'm glad you have clothes you like.” And with this, her father returned to his study where he spent a lot of time on his computer looking at pictures of molecules.

That Sunday morning it was sunny and cool. The mountains behind town were green and distinct in the clear morning light. Molly left the house with her skateboard, a long board good for coming down the hills above the Mission, and headed towards the pier. She loved being out on the pier in the morning. But coming up the bike path near the bird refuge, she heard a strange buzzing noise across the street. It came from Palm Park, the big, open park next to the beach.

She pushed off and headed towards the noise. Coming around some heavy foliage at the edge of the open space she was greeted by wondrous sight. A tiny airplane was circling a guy who held a black box with an antenna that seemed to be some type of controller. The airplane looped and rolled, flew close to the ground and then flew straight up. It did figure eights and finally came in and landed on the bike path. Just like a real airplane. Molly was struck dumb and moved closer.

There were three men involved with the operation and all three ignored her. There were six airplanes on the ground and boxes of equipment sitting nearby. Open wooden boxes with a handle on top, like the tool boxes she had seen workmen carry in old pictures.

The first man retrieved his airplane from bike path an put it next to the other six on the ground. A second man picked up another airplane and sat it on the path. After giving Molly a grin he looked down at the control box in his hands. The engine started and the plane moved down the path and took off. It banked and then flew in Molly's direction. It circled over her head and then moved out over the beach and ocean where it performed aerobatics. Molly couldn't suppress a startled laugh as the plane circled her.

The men flew their planes for a couple of hours and then began packing up their stuff to leave. Molly screwed up her courage and approached them.

“Where do you get those airplanes?”

“They're on the internet”, said what appeared to be the oldest guy.

“Where?”

“Try Harvest Hobbies, they have a good selection.”

“Are they expensive?”

“You can get a trainer for about a hundred dollars. That includes the controller - this thing.” He hefted the black box with the antenna. “But you'll need to buy a battery charger. And you'll probably want several batteries.”

“How do you learn to fly them?” Molly asked.

“Like I said, get a trainer. They're stable. Maybe a single channel with just rudder control.” Here the guy flexed the rudder on the plane he was holding. “You can get the hang of it with that.”

Arriving home, Molly rushed into her father's study where he was again looking at molecules and reading scientific papers on his computer.

“Dad! There were guys down at the beach flying little airplanes. They really flew!”

“Model airplanes?”

“Yeah, they say they sell them on Harvest Hobbies. Google that and let's see them.”

Her father was ready for a break and he located the Harvest Hobby website, which gave the option of cars, boats, helicopters or airplanes.

“What do you want to see? Cars? Boats?”

“Airplanes!” Molly interrupted, thinking the question silly.

Her father opened the page and they were greeted with a large collection of thumbnails showing many different types of aircraft. Single engines, double engines, war planes, sport planes and planes that obviously never existed in real life, but were special purpose models.

“Look at them!” Molly said breathlessly.

Molly's father clicked on the thumbnail for some type of Grumman WWII fighter-bomber. The page opened showing a close up of the plane. It was a highly detailed model and close ups were provided of the rotary engine, the landing gear and the armament. Scrolling down, Molly's father discovered a video. The video began by showing the plane sitting on the asphalt in an empty playground. It's engine started and it rolled out and took off, performing loops and dives around the operator.

“That's exactly what they did”, said Molly. “It was just like that.”

Her father opened up another page for a bi-plane and again played the video. The plane basically did the same thing as the first plane and Molly's father found this boring, but Molly was thrilled.

“That's the kind I want”, she said. “That old fashioned kind with the two wings.”

“Why?” Her father asked, mildly curious.

“Just because they're cool”, said Molly. “Dad let's get one! We can fly it down at the beach. It will be so much fun. We can fly it down the street here and everyone can see it.”

Her dad was mildly amused and chuckled, “It says it costs $129.00, that's a lot”.

“Dadddd! I have some money. I can help. Dad! It will be so fun!”

“Well, I'll think about it. You go get cleaned up because we're going to to the department head's house for a BBQ this afternoon.”

“OK”, Molly moved to her bathroom to get ready, visions of the bi-plane dancing in her head. Her father had to yell at her to hurry as she had opened the Harvest Hobby website in her room and was watching more videos of the model aircraft. A particularly fascinating one was of a huge WWII twin engine bomber. The landing gear could be retracted and the bomb bay doors opened in flight. And the wings could be detached so that it fit in the car. Molly would have selected it for her and her father but for the price, $585. She recalled that her father had balked at the $129 bi-plane.

Coming down the hall in her new jeans, new T-shirt and leather flip flops her dad intercepted her and pointed back towards her room.

“This is a semi-formal affair and everyone is dressing for it. You go back and put on one of those nice outfits that I bought for you. You look like you're going camping.”

Molly was angry, but said nothing. She realized she needed her points to get the airplane. So instead of deliberately sabotaging the outfit, i.e., doing something to make it look stupid, she tried to make it work.

“That is much better. You look very nice. Now, let's go get in the car.”

The BBQ was mostly adults and children either much older or much younger than Molly. Her one peer was Peter, the son of the department head. Molly and Peter sat apart eating while the adults occupied the tables that had been set up for the event.

“The planes are only about this big.” Molly indicated about eighteen inches with her hands. “But they really fly. And guys can control them with remote controls.”

“They take off and land and everything?” Asked Peter.

“Yeah, and they're really fast. And they can do loops and stuff.”

“They have engines?”

“Yeah, they run on batteries. The guys change out the batteries when they run down. They charge up a whole bunch the night before.”

“Where do they get them?” Asked Peter.

“On the internet. Let's go up to your room and I'll show you.”

Molly accessed the Harvest Hobbies website on Peter's desktop. Together they spent forty-five minutes watching videos of the various model aircraft swooping and diving. Some flew from the asphalt playground and some inside a gymnasium. It was thrilling to both kids. “

There were footsteps on the stairs to the room and Peter's father called: “Peter? Molly? Are you here?”

“Dad! Come here! Look!”

As Peter's father entered the room Peter stood and pointed to the computer screen. He shouted, “Look!”.

“Oh yeah, a model airplane. I had one of those when I was your age. It flew on the end of a control line. A string.”

“A string?” Asked Peter.

“Yeah, a string. It wasn't as much fun, but those radio controlled jobbers were just too expensive for us.”

“A lot are only about a hundred dollars”, said Molly, accessing the main page with the thumbnails. “But some are a lot more.”

“Really!” Peter's dad was surprised. “Then they've really come down in price. That's what they cost when I was about your age. A hundred years ago.”

He studies the thumbnails. “Open that one up. That's the kind I had, a P-51 Mustang.”

A gray warplane appeared on the screen. Molly started the video. The Mustang sat on the asphalt playground and it's engine started. It rolled out and took off.

Peter's dad chuckled, “Well look at that!”

The plane began to loop, roll and circle the pilot on the ground.

“That's a lot better than mine was”, said Peter's dad. “Mine just flew in circles. You could get bored with it.”

“Dad! Can we get one?”

“No, you'd just leave it out in the rain. It'd get ruined.”

“Dad! I would not!”

“You'd put it on a chair and forget about it. Then sit on it.”

“DAD!”

“Molly, get that first screen back. The one with all the different kinds.”

“I want one like yours! That Mustang.”

“Nope, not the Mustang. That's the second one you buy. When you know what you're doing. It's easy to crash. But maybe we could get a trainer.” Peter's dad studied the screen. “Hmm. It looks do-able. We'll have to take our time and figure out which one is best. And which one we can afford. We can do that tomorrow.”

“Yeah dad!” yelled Peter.

“Hey, I got to get back, people are going to wonder where I got off to.”

“Tomorrow!” Yelled Peter as his father left the room.

“Let's look at the trainers”, said Peter. Molly agreed.

The next day, Molly approached her father in his study.

“Can you put up the Harvest Hobby page again?”

In response, her father called up the website and went to the “Airplanes” section.

“Peter and his dad are getting that trainer. Open it up.”

A web page appeared showing a high wing plane that was pretty obviously not copied from real life.

“It's easy to fly and it has a button you can push where it settles down and flies straight if you get in trouble.”

“Uh-huh”, said Molly's father.

“Dad, can we get one too? It's only ninety dollars, and I have sixty dollars saved. We could fly it with Peter and his dad.”

“Is that really a good thing for a little girl? We can get you something really nice for about that much money.”

“Dad!” Molly's father could hear the anger in Molly's voice.

“OK, let me think about it. We'll see.”

With a huge sigh Molly stomped out of the room and back down the hallway.

The trainer was delivered to Peter and his dad on Thursday and they did the final assembly and tested it out on Friday. They planned to fly it in Palm Park that Saturday morning. Molly cooked a nice breakfast for her father and then drug him from his study and forced him to drive to the beach. Peter and his father were already there unpacking the model. Peter's dad turned it on and sat it on the grass.

“OK Peter, test it out.”

Peter switched on the controller and moved the ailerons and rudder.

“Good!” Said Peter's dad.

Peter's dad picked up the small plane and pointed it down the park, along the beach.

“Now lets take it straight out. Show me a left turn.”

Peter worked the box and the ailerons and rudder again moved.

“Good!” Said Peter's dad. “Now a right.”

The exercise was repeated.

“Now, you're about 300 yard out and you want to turn around and come back.”

Again Peter worked the box while his dad carried the plane through a 180 degree turn.

“OK, now things are reversed. Left turn! Right turn! Good!”

“OK, Peter, now the most important part. What do you do if you get all screwed up?”

“I make the plane level out.”

“How?”

“With this button.”

“Right. OK, I think we're ready.”

Peter's dad stood beside him with the model.

“OK, start the engine!” The propeller turned and the small plane began to buzz. Peter's dad gave it a gentle toss and it went straight out across the park.

“Keep the speed down. Now wiggle the wings.”

Peter toggled a control and the plane rocked back and forth. Both Peter and Molly giggled with excitement.

“OK, time for the big turn, bring it around.”

Peter worked the controls and the plane made a wide semi-circle and headed back.

“Wiggle the wings again. Get the feel for it.” Peter's dad sounded excited.

The wings wiggled. Peter was grinning ear to ear. As the plane approached Peter again put it through a turn and it headed back out across the park and the beach. Three such loops were made in all.

“Better bring it in now or the battery is going to die way over there.”

The planed headed for the group and about a hundred feet out Peter cut the engine. The plane glided down and skidded on the grass.

“Yes!” Screamed Molly running with Peter to where the planed had landed.

More batteries were installed and Peter performed increasingly complex flight patterns as the morning wore on.

In the car on the way home Molly burst out, “Dad! We have to get one. It will be so fun!”

“We'll see”, answered her father.

“Why not?” Answered Molly. Again there was anger in her voice.

“I said we'll see. We need to think some things over.”

Molly began to sulk, unable to fathom what the problem could be. She was still visibly moody at dinner that evening. Her father called her into his study after dinner.

“Molly, sit down. That airplane was fun, but is that something you really want for a hobby?”

“Yes”, said Molly, a bit belligerently.”

“Molly, you're going to be in Junior High next year, and you'll soon be in high school. It might be better if you worked at something that you could share with the other girls. I guarantee that none of them are going to be interested in your model airplane. In fact, they will find you a bit odd.”

“I don't care”, said Molly.

“But you will”, said her father. “I've been thinking about this. What are you going to talk with the other girls about? They're not going to look up to you for your airplane or your skateboards. How would you like an electric piano? You could take lessons and learn to compose music on it.”

“No.”

“You could play music with the other kids. Play at parties and such.”

“No, I don't want it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know what I want.”

“How about taking dance lessons? There is a wonderful academy here in town. And ...”

“Nooooo!”

“Molly, to be honest, I just don't think that becoming obsessed with model airplanes will be good for you.”

“I don't care if it's good for me!”

“Well I do. You're too much of a tomboy as it is.”

Molly choked back a sob, ran down the hallway to her room. She slammed the door as hard as she could.

“It's something fun that we could do together!” She screamed from behind the door. “Like Peter and his dad!”

Her father leaned on his desk with an unpleasant feeling inside. His stomach hurt, but that wasn't all. Something inside his soul hurt as well. He wondered if he had made another serious mistake with his daughter. He felt that he had. But he feared running on gut reactions and he feared for her entering the world of women that awaited her. Entering with her jeans, T-shirts, skateboards and model airplanes. He wished he knew what to do.

Molly cried herself to sleep that night. Molly's father could hear her sobbing and this touched him deeply, as did the cry that the airplane was something fun that they could do together. Perhaps he had only partially understood his daughter's motives,, and perhaps his work had caused him to neglect his daughter.

The next day, while Molly was a school, her father did serious damage to the monthly budget by purchasing two high quality road bikes. One for himself, and one to replace Molly's old twenty-four inch child's bicycle.

Molly was still angry when she returned from school that afternoon, but could not maintain it after seeing the new road bikes.

“There's miles and miles of bike paths around here”, said her father. “I figured we could ride them in the evening when we get home. Something fun we can do together.

Professor Simpson's Lesson

Molly's father was a biochemist, and for as long as she could remember it was simply assumed that she too would follow this path, e.g., Tenured Professor Molly Mathews or Dr. Molly Mathews the physician. And there must have been a genetic component to it, for while she passionately hated most things her father had forced her into, e.g., tennis, dance lessons and track and field, she actually liked the subjects of chemistry and biochemistry. And she was good in them. She also liked playing the violin. Her father's only other success.

She was actually in a five year hybrid program, Bio-Electrical Engineering, a program that would give her undergraduate degrees in both biochemistry and electrical engineering. A background her father felt would give her an edge in her admission to either graduate study or med school.

She attended University of California Santa Barbara, or UCSB and it was commonly called. The required Lit and History classes were easy A's. As were most of the electives in the first two years. She had lived in France and had spoke French until the ninth grade. So she cheated and took French as her required language. Another easy A and one that freed up time for her other subjects.

She found freshman physics to basically be memorizing formulas and practicing with them. Maybe practicing some extra problems found on the internet. So it was no problem.

The challenges in the first year were the chemistry and math courses. Chemistry wasn't that hard, mostly a repeat of what she had studied in her honors high school chem class. But it was taught in a huge lecture hall filled with perhaps a thousand would be pre-meds, so the grading curve was tough. You needed an A and you simply could not make a mistake on an exam. Her father had correctly warned me that it would be very easy to slip into B+ territory in this huge class full of motivated students.

The freshman calculus courses were not that tough, but here she ran into a problem many encounter in even the best state universities, the incompetent and slightly disturbed professor. Her Calculus I professor had just been hired and was teaching his first semester. Each day he devoted about one third of the class to gassing on about how poorly Molly's class was performing and how things had been so much better at the Air Force Academy. His alma mater. His tests were a nightmare, covering things that were not covered in class and that were not in the book. Difficult things he expected the class to figure out in the one hour panic of an exam.

As a first semester freshman, Molly didn't understand the drop process. If she had, she would have been gone from the calculus class immediately after the first nutty exam. And after the first exam was returned, the students needed the professor's permission to drop, and with this guy they were trapped. And the day after the absolutely drop date passed, the date at which no class could not be dropped for any reason, the Air Force guy informed the class that no “A's” would be given to this poorly performing class. And perhaps no B's.

The engineers didn't really care, they could suffer a B in first semester calculus and still get a decent job. Even a C wouldn't kill them. But to the science majors and pre-meds this was a disaster. They weren't looking for jobs after graduation, and for the most part, there weren't any for them. They were looking towards admission to very competitive graduate programs where a B in physics or calculus could deny them entry.

The class spoke to their guidance counselors about this development and Molly spoke to her father, who also spoke to the guidance counselors and to some of the other university staff. The existing grades were all over the map, with no curve possible. In the end the students were all given an academic pass for the course and told that a note would be placed in our files explaining the situation. As far as anyone has been able to tell, no note was ever placed in the file. The Air Force guy was not re-hired for the next semester. Molly re-took the course and got an A from a nice, well adjusted professor who looked like one of the guys on the Luden's Cough Drop box.

Organic Chemistry occupied her second year, of which she remembered very little. Just a mad rush to master the necessary knowledge and skills. Knowledge wasn't enough, you needed skill. Skill to rapidly determine if two complex molecules were isomers or not. Or to complete the probable course of the mechanism of a reaction. And the grading curve became much tougher.

In tandem, Molly had her engineering courses and labs. Which were not that bad. Electrical Engineering was very logical, a few core concepts that were expanded upon with each passing year.

And then came the first biochemistry courses and labs. And here you would be second rank if you had not had a genuine interest in cell biology all along, and studied well beyond the bounds of your cell biology classes.

It was at this point that she began independent study work with Professor Simpson. He specialized prokaryote reproduction and disrupting the prokaryotic polymerase. The hope being that this would lead to new antibiotics. Molly's background interested him as he foresaw the need for some new and elaborate instrumentation in the lab and he suspected Molly could provide some of it in her grad program. Molly and Professor Simpson became very close.

In Molly's fifth year, in early November, Professor Simpson entered the lab about 7:30 AM and found Molly already at work in her cube. The five foot by four foot recessed space, with a small desk area, a book shelf and a computer, that was referred to as a graduate office. She had a lab area as well. A lab bench with the standard sink and gas tap and glassed in shelves for her bottles and utensils. Her five pipettes, tongs, bags of test tubes, etc.

“You look worn out”, said Professor Simpson. “Is something bothering you?”

“No”, she answered. “I was feeling burned out last night when I finished up. So I drank some whiskey. It kind of washes the sawdust out of your head. But I don't think I sleep well with alcohol.”

“No, it's not just this morning. You've been looking burned out a lot lately. I mean your work is fine, but sometimes you look so tired.”

“Yeah, sometimes I just feel fried. Like I used to feel after a really tough exam.”

“Describe fried.”

“Like something is all used up in my head and there's nothing else to give. Just a sort of numbness. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have worked through the summer.”

Professor Simpson kind of chuckled. “I know that feeling. Know it well. It kind of comes with the territory. You just get used to it I guess.”

Leaving the lab at about 6:00 PM Molly decided to take the night off. She hadn't taken a night off in months.

She crossed Broadway and waited for the commuter bus at the stop across from the lab. It was dark and the lights in the bus stop highlighted the griminess. Cigarette butts lay in every corner and the plexiglass windows were scratched up from repeated graffiti removal. An empty pint bottle of cheap vodka sat near one of the canopy supports.

The bus ride took half an hour to get from the University to her father's house, and was quite boring in the dark. Nothing to see but oncoming headlights. She spoke with Emily, the budding young alcoholic who helped run the math library on campus. Emily produced a pint bottle Kentucky Deluxe from her purse, the cheap whiskey much favored by students in Isla Vista. She took a long pull and offered the plastic bottle to Molly, more out of politeness than anything else. But Molly accepted it and took a long drink.

“Oh man, I needed that”, said Molly.

“Trouble?”

“Nah, just really burned out. I'm going to take the night off. I haven't had a night off in months.”

“Do you want to go to the Wheel?” Asked Emily.

“No, I'm too tired for that. I think I'll just get some KD and go home.”

The Wheel was a brightly lit, noisy, linoleum covered downtown bar much frequented by the local hell raisers, who, for some reason, shunned to cozier drinking establishments lining State Street. the main street in Santa Barbara. And Emily's escapades at the Wheel were the stuff of legend. Half the bar patrons in Santa Barbara hated her, and the other half seemed to have on again and off again affairs with her. Both male and female. Molly felt she lacked to energy and fortitude for a night on the town with Emily.

The bus finally arrived and Molly walked to the liquor store next to the Park and Ride and purchased a 750 milliliter bottle of Kentucky Deluxe. Sandra was working the counter, a lovely young woman of about twenty-five with short dread locks. About six inches long. A very unusual look. She was wearing flip flops and dirt was coming up through her toes to the tops of her feet. This was somehow sexy, and Molly guessed the Sandra and her boyfriend were still living in the mountains. Camping in the chaparral, which they did every warm season to save on rent.

“You still camping out?” Asked Molly.

“Yeah, until next week. We move into a house in Lompoc then. It's getting really cold at night.”

“Lompoc? You still going to work here?”

“Yeah. The rent's so low there that we figure it's worth the commute. We'll just come in for the day. Mike is working at the pizza parlor and we can match up our schedules.”

Molly walked back to the Park and Ride and climbed into her car. Across the lot was the crazy woman's Astro van. It had broken down in the lot early last year and, after several months of it sitting there, Molly's neighbor, who also drove an Astro Van, had offered to buy it for parts. This had set the crazy woman off into tizzy where she repeatedly shouted that the Astro Van was her car and nobody was taking it. After many months, the bus company had it towed away. The crazy woman then raised so much hell that the bus company brought it back. And there it sat.

There was the usual brief flash of fear that the car wouldn't start as she turned the key. But it always started. She backed out and headed down Coast Village Road to her fathers house.

Entering the downstairs of the house, she built a fire in the wood stove and poured a glass of KD. No ice or water. She wanted to sip something strong.

She then opened the door to the wood stove so that it would burn more slowly and throw some dancing light into the room. The stove threw out enough heat that she could open her front window and listen to the trains coming up out of Summerland. She loved this far away train sound. She swiveled her desk chair, put her feet on a stool near the stove and took a sip of KD. She looked into the fire and began to meditate.

Could she stay on with Professor Simpson? And if not, could she get into a decent program somewhere else? She fancied she could. There were a few bobbles in her record. The calculus fiasco and a couple of mediocre lab grades. She generally hated labs. But all in all, her record was good. As were her recommendations.

But she realized she lacked passion. She had passion to succeed in her undergrad studies, and this carried her through the days and nights of numbing work. Rising at 6:00 AM and collapsing after midnight, with a walk in the afternoon because her brain had simply ceased to function. But she couldn't really see life after graduation. She didn't know what she wanted to be when she grew up.

And she didn't really have a project in mind for her graduate program, and she knew it was time to develop one. She could talk a good line, and this had carried her so far, but she knew people who chomped at the bit to begin their research, and dreamed of exactly where it would go, and she knew this wasn't her. Or wasn't her at the moment. And perhaps this was why she was so often tired these days. Where before the work had been a glorious battle for a shining goal, it was now just work. Work that sucked up every minute of every hour of the day.

She drank by the fire until just after 11:00 PM and then turned in. Work started at 6:00 AM.

It was getting near the end of the fall semester and Molly had no finals in her last year, which felt very odd. No soul crushing wild eyed scramble to get ready for the exams. No phobias of catching a cold that would reduce your performance. Just a couple of papers that had to be completed. Papers that she had been working on all semester. She had time to knock off at 5:00 and lounge around the lab with Professor Simpson and another grad student. Carol Mankiller, a woman with an unusual name who was already becoming a star in the field. It was near Christmas and the three were drinking wine in the lab.

“I wish there was such a thing as a real IQ test”, said Molly. “I used to think I was smart, but now I wonder if I just have a high tolerance for drudgery.”

“How so”, asked Professor Simpson.

“Am I smart or do I just work really hard? Work really hard while the really smart people are out having a good time.”

“I've found that a lot of what people call smart is just that, hard work”, Said Carol. “And you did very well on your GRE exams, that's a measure of something.”

“It's a measure of how much knowledge has been pumped into you and how good you are at taking tests.”

“Even the math and reasoning part?” Asked Carol.

“Yeah, absolutely”, replied Molly. “I flunked the first few practice exams I took, but then I kept taking them until I started thinking like the test. That's the best I can explain it. It measured how well I could get ready for the GRE.”

“Well”, said Professor Simpson, “It sounds like you're coming to the first stage of enlightenment. The realization that it's all a bunch of hogwash and you've been a fool.”

“What's the next stage?” Asked Molly.

“The realization that you still are a fool”, replied Professor Simpson.

“I'll buy that”, said Molly.

Over Christmas, her father was thrilled that Molly was on a downhill path to her graduate program. There would be no more one hour panic exams to decide her fate. A situation where a moment of confusion could trash her future. Just a few papers and a presentation on her independent study project, which her father was sure she could handle.

The two went to Vail for a seven day ski holiday. Molly needed to get away. She had planned to spend the break prepping for her final semester, reading the texts and such, but just couldn't face it. The conditions were perfect on the mountain and Molly was close to being first chair every day. She was a good skier, having gone to Wrightwood almost every week of the season. And cruising the back bowels of Vail an idea came to her. Something that excited her.

Her last semester was a coast which gave her time to think about her idea and research it. What would it take to become a ski patrol at Vail? There was time to take the Outdoor Emergency Care course and the EMT training, which were offered at UCSB. And the local library offered the CPR course on a quarterly basis. She submitted the on-line application and was granted an interview in March. She passed the ski exam at that time. In April she received a call that she could start when the resort opened on November 15^th, provided she completed her certification courses.

But there was the sixty-four dollar question. Would taking a year off brand her as a slacker. Someone who was not serious about their career. A dangerous person to be passed over in favor of more dedicated candidates?

Professor Simpson really asked for it when he stuck his head in Molly's closet and asked if there was anything she wished to discuss. He was, of course, speaking of the project, but Molly took him up as if it were a general offer.

“Yeah, there is. Would it wreck my career if I took a year off after graduation and worked as a ski patrol at Vail?”

“What?”

“My applications are out and I've been accepted here and at UCLA. But would I blow it if I took a year off?”

“To be a ski patrol?”

“Yeah.”

“This is serious, why don't you come to my office in about ten minutes.” Professor Simpson could have discussed the matter perfectly well where he stood, but he needed to buy time to compose himself. This had completely waylaid him.

“Take a seat Molly”, said Professor Simpson indicating the seat across from his desk.

“So, am I being an idiot?”

Professor Simpson was quiet for a moment, with a thoughtful look on his face. A sort of wistful look.

“No”, he finally said. “I've always been attracted to old funky houses in ski towns. And I used to think this was really odd. Couldn't figure out why. And my ex-wife really hated it. I'd drive around old Breckenridge or Steam Boat and slow down and say, 'Hey, look at that old place. Isn't it cool?' And my ex would give me a nasty look and say, 'It's a dump'”.

“Funky old houses”, She repeated. It didn't make a lot of sense.

“I finally figured out that the old houses, and the right kind of winter light, brought back what I called The Dream. I've always been an over achiever, working myself to death, and that was especially true when I was a kid. What kept me going in those days was a vow that after the spring semester I would take a year off and go to one of the a ski towns. Maybe Steamboat or Mamouth. And my friends and I would rent an old, cheap house �" like the kind my ex thought were dumps. And I'd get a job as a bartender. And then I'd just ski everyday. And we'd live in that old house with a lot fun friends and have a great time. And we'd do that for a whole year.”

“You never did it?”

“No, as an undergrad, the restrictions of my grants and scholarships stopped me. And after I graduated, grad school was all I cared about. Then the first job. And when I got that, I stayed on to prove myself. You just didn't take a year's leave of absence to go ski. Guess I'll have to wait for retirement now.”

“Sounds like you still want to go ski”, Molly said. “And so do I. But will it hurt me?”

Professor Simpson was quiet for a long time. He shook his jaw back and forth, as he often did while thinking. He looked up at the tile ceiling.

He finally spoke. “This is going to sound really wimpy, but taking the year off could both help you and hurt you. There are some people, and you know a few, who really would see this as a frivolous break from your real work and would judge you for it. But I don't think you'd be happy working for those types anyway. At least not in the long run. And then there is a smaller group, one that would look at your excellent qualifications, and then view your break as an expression of your humanity. And I think this is where you want to be. With that bunch. So, in my opinion, you can see your break as a filter that separates the miserable a******s from the people you really want to join.”

“Yeah, I see your point. I think I'll go do it.”

“Well, I might see you up there”, Professor Simpson replied.

Molly's father eventually agreed the year off might be a good thing, or at least that it wasn't a complete disaster. He actually went so far as placing several calls to professor Simpson.

In early November Molly moved into the Vail Employee Housing and did her new employee orientation. She shared a bedroom with two other women her age. There were actually six women living in the two bedroom apartment. All the other women worked on the mountain as lifties or Yellow Jackets. Molly didn't mind the crowding as she was rarely home.

That winter Molly never questioned her decision. She never regretted it. She tried out for the local ski team and didn't qualify. But she learned what it took to qualify and this seemed to be within reach. And she had a whole winter to work on it. To work on it everyday. And in late April, shortly after the resort closed, and after she got her lay off notice, she horrified her father by announcing that she would stay for another year. That is, if she made the ski team. Otherwise she would be home at Christmas.

She got a summer job as a hotel desk clerk and was able to remain in Employee Housing. She got a whole new crop of roommates. You didn't pick your roommates in Employee Housing, you just came home and found them in your bedroom unpacking their stuff.

She was back on the mountain that November. She again tried out for the team, and this time she made it. Only the “D” team, a position that got her no real sponsors, but hell, she had a job on and mountain and a sympathetic boss, so so what? A lot of days she went to practice in her red ski patrol outfit.

Stopping by HR one morning she saw a bedroom for rent in Redcliff, a small town about ten miles South of Vail. A situation that sounded much better than the crowded employee housing. There was an address, but no phone number. An address with an invitation to stop by and check out the living situation. To see if it was to your liking.

Molly drove over Battle Mountain to Redcliff that afternoon. Depending on how you define a street, there are only four or five streets in Redcliff. So the house was easy to find. It was on the main street and was large and shabby. It looked like it had once been a store or a saloon. Several battered four wheel drives were parked out front and Molly could see a good deal of ski and snowboard equipment leaning against the wall under the front porch roof. She knocked and was greeted by a guy about her own age, wearing snow pants and an first layer shirt.

“Hey! You here about the room?”

“Yeah”, said Molly. “Is this a good time?”

“The owner went to Vail, but he'll be back in a while. Why don't you come in and I'll show you the place. Oh, by the way, I'm Steve.”

“Molly.”

Molly entered and was greeted by the smell of cooking spaghetti, beer and marijuana. Six people about her age were sitting around the large living room and she was introduced. They all worked at the resort in some capacity. The living room wasn't what you would call filthy, but it definitely had a lived in look.

Climbing the steps, the guy explained, “There are five bedrooms. Two girls, two guys and the owner. He's an old guy, retired. But he's OK. He just bought the place a few months ago.”

He pushed open a crude wooden door, planks nailed together like a gate, and painted white, to show Molly a white painted room with plank walls, a single window and an obviously old wooden floor. The window had a nice view of the town. The room looked like something out of the wild west, and it probably was.

“There is only one plug, and you'll need half of it for the space heater. There's no heat in the room. You can only run the heater and a lamp in the winter. Anything more blows the breaker. The girl that had it last ran a cord in from the hall here for her computer.”

“Better to run a cord and have a little privacy. I'm in employee housing now.”

The guy laughed, “I was there for a year. I know what you mean. If you're interested, you want to wait for the owner? We're about to eat and you can join us.”

So they returned to the living room and everyone had a plate of spaghetti. Molly had to admit they were a jolly bunch. There were three residents present, including Steve, and four visiting neighbors. It seemed that the whole neighborhood was populated with kids having fun being mountain bums. Most were hard core snowboarders. The types who spent full days on a half pipe every chance they got. They were interested in Molly's position on the Vail team and two were in competition themselves. A car was then heard coming up the driveway.

“There's the owner”, said Steve.

Molly could hear someone stamping snow off their boots on the porch, and then in stepped Professor Simpson.

“Oh my God!” Said Molly. “You're the owner?”

“I most certainly am”, Professor Simpson replied.

“Oh my God, you finally got your cheap little house in a ski town!”

“Actually, it wasn't that cheap”, said Professor Simpson. “Nothing is cheap around here. I didn't know that when I was a kid.”

“What are you doing now days?” Asked Molly.

“I took an early retirement. I ski a lot and hang out at the bars. And I have a big shabby house full of friends that I have a good time with. And you showed up just in time for my sixty-third birthday party. Is there any spaghetti left?”

Molly stayed the winter and got to ski in competition, generating memories she would hold for a lifetime. In late Spring she realized she couldn't take the university anymore. And it was too late to apply for anything anyway. Instead, to her father's horror, she applied for an engineering position at Santa Barbara Research Center, or SBRC, and was accepted as an electrical engineer and chemist.

She lived with her father for a few months, until he secured a new job in Colorado and put the house up for sale. Molly then moved to half of a small duplex in De La Vina and Ortega Street and met Pete, the guy next door. And behind the duplex was a doll house, about the size of a U-haul van, where Jane, an interesting and pretty young woman lived.

The Poet's Club

Pete was a good guy. The ultimate California surfer dude, although he didn't spend a lot of time on the beach. In fact, he didn't even surf. But he'd been born in Santa Barbara near the beach and had spent his life there. And this had given him the attitude. Pretty much everyone was OK and they could do what they wanted. As could could he. He had the easy laugh and he even had the blond hair, although at the age of twenty-seven it was already starting to thin on top.

Pete and Molly shared the crappy little duplex near Ortega and De la Vina Streets in the old part of Santa Barbara. Molly on the right and Pete on the left. There were trees growing in the yard that nobody could identify, having been brought back in the 19^th century by sea captains. In the fall they would drop fruit that nobody had ever seen before.

Jane, who lived in the small cabin in the back yard, almost a doll house, was different from Pete and Molly in that everything confused her. She had been a liberal arts major and now she worked temp clerical jobs around Santa Barbara. She was short and cute with long brown hair, and she wore baggy men's clothing so the guys wouldn't bother her. And she was constantly trying to figure out what she was going to do with her life.

For some odd reason, the baggy men's clothing bothered Pete and he would sometimes mention it to Molly. An odd thing for a person who was otherwise so dedicated to live and let live. A bug up his butt over Jane's baggy men's pants and t-shirts. Molly told Jane about it and Jane cackled and said she thought that was hilarious.

Jane was confused, but in those years, Pete and Molly were seldom confused. As aerospace engineers, they make good money for their age and they had already abstractly charted the course for their lives, i.e., they would somehow find a way to cease being aerospace engineers. They just hadn't figured out the details yet. Pete supposed he would someday make enough money to buy a large tract of land in Northern California where he would become a hermit. Molly would buy a homey little bar and coffee shop in the redwoods. In the meantime, they got up and went to work everyday and dealt with people they found colorless.

Pete explained why he never attended the company Christmas party, “If I wanted to hang out with those people, I'd be friends with them.”

Both Jane and Molly were single. And not just between boyfriends, but dedicated single. They didn't have boyfriends, they hadn't had one in a long time and they weren't looking for one. Jane liked to come over and sleep with Molly and they would rub each others backs. The fact that Jane did this, and wore men's clothing, and had a motorcycle for transportation made Molly suspect that she might be a lesbian, although Molly never mentioned this to Pete. And Molly never asked Jane about it as that was a question that seemed to be too intrusive.

Molly probably would have tried to hook up with Pete but for his girlfriend Nell. A woman in her mid forties that Pete had dated forever, and who desperately tried to keep a grip on Pete. The couple was perpetually on the verge of breaking up and almost every Monday Pete would tell Molly that it was all over between him and Nell.

Nell was a good person, warm, adventurous and fun. Sharing much of Pete's philosophy of life. And even with the age difference she would have made Pete a great lifetime companion. But she had a self destructive streak. When she became frustrated with Pete, which was almost every weekend, her first reaction was get stinking drunk and then spin off into a sobbing tantrum. While Pete sat stoically nearby trying to ignore her.

Nell would approach Pete with a kootchy kootchy koo type thing, Pete would brush her hand aside, the bottle of Jack Daniels would come out of her purse and Nell would have what Jane, Molly and Pete called a “flip”. They had a scale from one to ten for rating them. A five was constant screaming but not throwing anything and no other physical violence.

But Molly and Jane thought that Nell was OK and they had many nice afternoons getting drunk with her and listening to her talk about what an over grown punk Pete was.

Pete, Jane and Molly all had motorcycles. Pete's was the best. A custom hard tail frame with an eighty inch engine and a magneto. It had a headlight and a tail light and not much else. It had to be kick started it and it had dentist mirrors mounted on the handle bars (sometimes) to meet the California mirror requirements. A real simple machine. The kick starter had a bicycle pedal that folded out and Pete would stand facing the rear of the bike to punch it down. He explained that he stood this way in case the bike backfired and violently kicked the pedal back up.

Molly had a semi-chopped Sportster, which had once been decked out with fenders and instruments. But Molly laid it down at low speed in some gravel and it had skidded across the road and hit a curb. It then bounced into the air and landed upside down. The front fender, the tank, the headlight, the front turn signals, the handle bars and instruments were crushed. Molly could only afford to replace the tank, handle bars and the headlight, so her bike was now sort of a simple machine too. Molly realized that her front fender had been for more than show the first time she ran through a mud puddle without it.

Jane had a CM 450 Honda with fenders, speedometer, oil light, turn signals and all that stuff .

On weekends they would ride the bikes into the mountains behind Santa Barbara and camp. There were hundreds of places to go. They would all get drunk, smoke a little weed and then Jane and Molly would retire to their sleeping bags while Nell began screaming at Pete.

Molly didn't have a bed or any other furniture in those days. After she graduated, and got her first job, and first real apartment, way up in a hot and crappy part of Canoga Park, she bought a lot of that kind of stuff. She then changed jobs and moved to Newport Beach, and found out how miserable it was to pack up all that s**t to move it. And when she got the job in Santa Barbara, she sold everything to her neighbor for almost nothing, vowing that from that point forward, everything she owned would fit in her car.

Molly did, however, have a queen sized futon, which, incidentally, could be rolled up and fit into the back seat of her car. Molly had this on the floor on one side of her tiny living room. The mattress on the floor appealed to her bohemian soul. On the other side of the small room, also on the floor, were her stereo and TV. The room was otherwise empty except for a large potted palm that was there when she moved in. Molly could sit on the futon with her back to the wall and listen to music or watch TV.

One Friday afternoon Pete, Jane, Nell and Molly were all sitting on Molly's Futon drinking wine and listening to Van Morrison. They were all silent through the song “Moondance” because they loved it.

When the song ended ended, Pete said, “Why don't we take the bikes and cruise up to Big Sur and hang out at the River Inn?”

“Is the Poet's Club meeting?” Asked Jane.

“Never know”, Pete answered. “Sometimes they meet and sometimes they don't. But it doesn't matter. We can have a few in the bar and then sleep on the beach. Have some breakfast on the deck and then come back down in the morning.”

“Why don't we just call the River Inn and ask them what's going on?” Molly asked.

“'Cause that spoils everything”, Pete replied, with his style of inescapable logic.

They agreed to go and went their separate ways to get sleeping bags, extra clothing and to dress for the trip. The cold weather had pretty much ended, but one never knew how much insulation you would need at night on a bike.

They headed out from the center of Santa Barbara and the first gas stop for Molly's Sportster's tiny gas tank was the North end of town. Molly was like a kid on a road trip who has to stop and piss every twenty minutes, but in her case it was stop to buy gas. And the problem was compounded by the fact that she no longer had a gas gauge. Pete, with his Fat Bobs, and Jane, with her gas sipping Honda, didn't have this problem.

The sun was setting as they hit Gaviota. There was little auto traffic and they roared into the night. They followed 101 further inland and again bought gas in Lompoc, or Lompuke as Nell referred to her home town, and then headed back out into the dark. They caught the coast road at At San Luis Obisbo and it was a new world. There was a full moon over the ocean and heated the sky to a cobalt blue with a few wispy white clouds. They could see the surf in the bright moonlight. As they passed the openings to the canyons through the inland mountains, the air would suddenly become cold, and then warm up again as they passed by. Molly pictured the rivers of cold air coming down the canyons and flowing out to sea.

They pulled into the River Inn about ten that evening. They parked and Pete rolled his eyes with impatience as Jane, Nell and Molly brushed their hair in preparation for entering the bar. Molly suspected that he was only rolling his eyes at Nell. He probably would have been OK with just her and Jane brushing their hair.

Molly's father had once drank with Henry Miller in this bar and he liked to tell the story. He had stopped in because the weather was bad and it was difficult to drive on the winding Highway 1. There was only one other patron in the bar and her father thought he looked like Henry Miller. Out of the blue Molly's father had said “Plexus” and the person at the other end of the bar looked up and smiled. Her father introduced himself and reports that he and Mr. Miller had a wonderful conversation. Her father was of the opinion that Henry Miller is famous because he is such a superb conversationalist, and that his writing is secondary, and that the writing doesn't do justice to Mr. Miller in person.

There was a local crowd in the bar and Jane said to Molly, “You gotta be tough or lucky to live in Big Sur. It's hard to get in here.”

“Yeah, but it sure would be a great life. I hope to have something like this when I finally go North.”

At the bar a hand lettered sign indicating that a local brew known as “Stale Ale” was on tap. They ordered it.

“So where are you guys from?” Asked the bartender.

“S.B.”, Pete replied. “Just getting out of town for the night.”

“You picked a good night for it”, said the bartender. “The Poet's Club meets at 11:00 and word is that Lawrence Ferlinghetti is coming, but I can't promise that. He shows up when he shows up.”

“The Poet's Club is on.” Molly shouted, and Molly slapped the bar, knowing that this would be a good trip.

Molly turned to the bartender: “Out by the fire pit?”

“Yep, usual place”, said the bartender.

They moved out to claim a spot. The River Inn had a great fire pit in those days. A big wire cage that some artistically inclined person had welded together to look like a huge flame. This sat in the center of a small Greek theater made up of river rocks. They claimed their spot in the front row. The fire pit was already lit and a guy was chucking more logs into it. The night wasn't cold, but the heat still felt good.

They drank Stale Ale and talked. A somewhat inebriated group across from them began singing like Indians and they joined in. Beating empty plastic beer cups on the rocks for the tom tom sound. The area began to fill up as 11:00 o'clock approached. About a quarter past 11:00 some guy stepped up and announced the poetry reading. He read the list of names of the people who had signed up to read, and, like the bartender, noted that Lawrence Ferlinghetti might show. But he couldn't promise that.

With this, the first “Poet” stepped up in front of the fire. He stood staring at the audience, weaving slightly from side to side and generating a pregnant silence. He looked pretty drunk. He then launched into a hilarious speech about what a dick his boss was and how pretty much everyone else he had to work with were also a dicks. It was typical Big Sur poetry, more of a raving comedy act than a literary fest. And each “Poet” would try to get bigger laughs out of the crowd than the one before. The word “Poet's” in “Poet's Club” was an acronym for Piss On Everything Tomorrow's Saturday.

Word began to circulate that Lawrence Ferlinghetti had arrived, but he would come on last so as not to steal the thunder of others on the list. The group made quite a few trips back to the bar for more Stale Ale and met the couple sitting behind them. Stacy and Ben. Stacy was quite striking, thin with long white hair and fine features. Ben was your standard hippie with moderately long curly hair and beard. He looked like he was wearing a black motorcycle helmet.

The two were living in a van and knew a spot to park were the sheriffs never looked for such things. They said they had been in the area for about two years. Molly and Pete exchanged contact information and invited them to visit them down in Barb City. Molly, Pete and Jane then offered to share a dube with them and were reminded that there was no puffin' tough in the fire area. The River Inn didn't want the cops descending because a bunch of hippies were smoking pot in public.

By now Nell had drank quite a few Stale Ales and she was pretty much three sheets to the wind. She was taking jabs at Pete by interacting with Jane and Molly in a very animated manner, and then switching her attention to Stacy, while studiously ignoring Pete. Whilst saying such things as, “It's so much nicer to talk to women. Don't you think?”

Ominously, Stacy, who now appeared to be at least two sheets to the wind, seemed to resonate with Nell. Answering Nell with comments like, “Yeah, men can be such pricks. Can't they?”.

Jane and Molly tried to just lay low.

And then Lawrence Ferlinghetti stepped up to the fire. He and some of Henry Miller's crew were the original Poets at the area, and it was from him that the others here tonight derived their styles. A sort of a Babe Ruth of the Big Sur poetry set. One who had morphed the art to it's new and present state. He started slow, commenting on the trip down and San Francisco traffic, but swiftly moved into a full throated monologue that touched on all aspects of modern life. Politics, religion, social conventions, schools, current events and the media. He made fun of them all and he was loud and hilarious. The crowd rolled with laughter. Molly had tears coming down her cheeks.

He was on for over a half an hour, drawing inspiration and strength from the howls from the crowd. Finally spent, he sat down. And the crowd roared it's approval. The group had a final round of Stale Ale and prepared to move out.

The group only had to go a few hundred yards North on the highway, to a fire road turn off that led down to the beach. More of a hard packed trail than a road.

People had been living in the woods around here for years and eating by stealing food out of hiker's back packs. And because of this, the cops would hassle anyone for crashing out in the open, away from a campground. So the three bikes cut their lights as they entered the fire road. The full moon was up and they had no trouble following the trail down to the beach without the headlights.

Over the noise of the idling bikes Molly heard Nell wail, “Peeeeeete!!”. Jane and Molly just looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

They finally reached the beach and traveled about a hundred yards North to be clear of the road. There was hard packed dirt close to the cliffs that made for easy going.

It was a magical place. A beach out of a story book with acres of soft sand and rock stacks extending out into the water. The full moon was the final touch.

As Molly was undoing her sleeping bag and the ground cloth that Jane an Molly would sleep on, Molly heard Nell shout, “I like being alone! A lot!”.

“Whatever that means”, Molly muttered.

“Looks like we're in for a six”, Jane muttered back.

Jane and Molly were about a hundred feet South of Pete and Nell and glad for the separation. It was ominously quiet as they spread the ground cover and started getting undressed. They were just climbing into their sleeping bags when they heard the eruption. A constant barrage of screaming. A classic flip. At least a five from the sound of it.

The last image Molly had that night, as she drifted off to sleep, was that of Nell sitting up in her sleeping bag and screaming at the ocean while Pete sat in a lotus position on a nearby rock trying to ignore her.

Jane and Molly awoke the next morning and made they're way to Pete and Nell's camp. Nell looked like a corpse and was pretty unresponsive.

“She had a bottle of Jack in her purse”, Pete explained. “That's what finished her off.”

Pete and Molly pulled they're bikes up on either side of Nell and pulled Molly's ground cloth over them to make a sort of tent. Otherwise they feared that Nell might fry in the sun.

Everyone then got undressed and took a long swim to get cleaned up. They then sat on some nearby rocks and fired up a fatty. After about an hour Molly and Jane's hair was dry and they got dressed and poked Nell until she came around.

“Sorry, you guys”, she said somewhat groggily. “Sorry about last night.” She was very hoarse.

“Let's go eat”, said Jane.

“Yeah, Molly replied.”

“River Inn?” Said Pete.

“No”, Molly replied after a moment. “Nepenthe. Let's treat ourselves.”

And with that they roared off the beach, up the fire trail and then South on the coast road towards Nepenthe, about five miles to the South. They had no choice but to leave the bikes un-watched in the parking lot. They then climbed the stairs to the restaurant. They were lucky and got seated along the railing with a view for miles up and down the coast. A view to die for.

The waitress came and Pete asked a million questions about every item on the menu. Molly knew that Pete already knew what he wanted and that he was just doing this to drive Nell crazy. He always did this, and Nell hated it with a passion. But Pete was very personable and funny and the waitress, greatly entertained, played along. Finally, Pete screwed up his face as if lost in the possibilities and asked the waitress if she could come back.

As the waitress left, Nell responded with another, “Peeeete!”.

She was silenced with a dirty look from the other three .

Eventually, Pete tired of torturing Nell and they all splurged by ordering the best. The special. Jane started to object but Molly quieted her saying that she would get their half of the check. After the brunch they had coffee for an hour just taking in the view and the sun.

“A lot of times I wonder if life is really worth living”, Jane said. “But times like this made me believe it is.”

Molly pointed out the cabin above the deck where Henry Miller had lived prior to to the Fassetts purchasing the property and starting the restaurant. Molly noted that there was a time when you could not count yourself as a true bohemian unless you had spent some time in that cabin. With at least one of the generations of the Fassett family. Man Ray, Anais Nin, Henry Miller, Benny Bufano, Jack Kerouac, Eric Barker and Harry Dick Ross had all spent time in that salon.

They descended to the parking lot and Molly was grateful to see that her bike hadn't been stripped. Molly took everyone across the highway to a magical place her father had shown her years before. An old cottage directly across the road from the entrance to Nepenthe. It now operated as a visitor center and had a crude sidewalk that had been poured from the drive to the front door. The cement was covered with hand prints, foot prints, names and dates. A good chunk of the Beat Generation was represented there. Harry Dick Ross, Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs and of course Henry Miller. Molly had no idea which one had lived here, but they obviously knew all of the rest of the crew. At least well enough to get them to come over and help build sections of this sidewalk.

And from here they started home. Back down Highway 1 to Pismo Beach where Highway 1 became 101, the freeway to Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. It was a beautiful afternoon and the ocean was that turquoise color you never see anywhere else. Turquoise against the brilliant white of the surf under the sun. There were regions where the green chaparral broke and golden grass covered the hills. Grass the color of lions. The golden California. Molly's straight pipes blew a strong, steady note. No backfires or missing. No modulation on the level highway. In the bright day Molly couldn't see the cones of blue fire that hovered right outside the exists of both pipes. That was only for the night.

Molly could think on the bike. There was no radio or yakking passenger to disturb her. On Monday Molly would be back in her cube, surrounded by guys whose goal in life was to buy a condominium. A condominium on the edge of town, in a building that looked like an apartment complex. An particularly tacky apartment complex with no trees. What Molly called, “Engineer Housing”. Guys who thought that anything that didn't advance their careers was a waste of time. Careers that usually ended one level above Molly's present level and paid just enough at the end to allow the condominium to be traded up for a tract home.

And here Molly was, as Ginsberg put it, burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of the night.

Molly wondered how long it would be until she could move to the redwoods and buy her coffee shop. Maybe Jane would come with her.

Yogi Bear

It was a slow Friday night in Santa Barbara and Molly relished the thought of not having to be anywhere or do anything. She was free for almost a week. It was the forth of July weekend, and Molly didn't have to be back at work until next Thursday, a gift arising from the forth falling on a Wednesday. Feeling especially languid, she had purchased a bottle of Wild Turkey on the way home from work and now, sipping a tumbler full, drifted into a Zen like state of laziness. She would make plans tomorrow. Tonight, she would enjoy the glass of Wild Turkey and then sleep.

Jane had gone down to the valley to visit her parents for the week. She had ridden down on her Honda and Molly suddenly realized that she was probably going to beg for money. Riding South into the Valley, on the five lane Highway 101, on a 750cc motorcycle, was anything but fun. You only did it if you had to make the trip on three dollars. The gas money. Otherwise you took the bus or rented a car. Molly felt a stab of guilt as she realized that she should have offered to drive Jane. But then she too would be stuck in Van Nuys tonight. Or else fighting impossible traffic to get back.

Jane had been laid off from her s****y temp job out at Delco last Wednesday, but Molly hadn't expected her to be this broke so soon. Didn't she get a couple of weeks pay along with the kick in the a*s? Molly hoped so, and made a note to ask about this.

She heard someone on the tiny common wooden porch of the duplex. Nell's face resolved itself out of the darkness and pressed itself up against the screen. It hung there amid all the bugs attracted by the living room light.

“Can I come in?” Nell asked. She then opened the screen door and entered without waiting for an answer.

“Pete's home”, said Molly. “He's next door now.”

“I came to see you”, said Nell. “F**k Pete. I don't want to see that over grown punk.”

“Cool!” Said Pete through the thin walls of the duplex.

“Do you want to go get a drink?” Asked Nell. “I need to get out. I feel stuff closing in.”

“No”, Molly answered. Santa Barbara didn't have much of a bar scene in those days. Maggie McFly's with the four or five horny drunks lounging around, The Office, a bar packed with hard core drunks, half of them one step away from the sleeping on beach, and the other half actually sleeping on the beach, and an Irish Pub down the street, which Molly couldn't afford.

“Here, I have a bottle of Wild Turkey. Let's start there.” Molly suggested. Nell nodded.

Molly went to the kitchen and got the bottle and an extra glass. As she returned to the living room, Pete pushed through the screen door with a whiskey tumbler in his hand. He held the tumbler out to Molly and she filled it. He then nodded at Molly and left, wordlessly going back to his side of the duplex.

“Pete's such a dickwad”, said Nell, a little louder than necessary.

“You two have a fight?”

“No, I just figured out what a selfish b*****d he was.”

“She was slobbering drunk when she did it.” Said Pete through the wall.

“F**k you, Pete. I'm talking to my friends. My real friends.”

Nell waited. Hoping that Pete would take the bait. He didn't. And after a few moments Nell sighed and focused on the Whiskey.

“I don't know why I go on with this”, Nell began, but she was interrupted by the sound of a van pulling up and turned to the screen door.

“Come on, let's go”, said a voice both recognized as Martin.

“Oh, f**k you dick brain”, said his girlfriend Annie. We heard footsteps coming up the walk. Martin had his hand on the back of Annie's neck and guided her up the stairs. He gave two knocks on each of our doors.

Peering into Molly's half of the duplex he asked, “Can Annie stay here for a while? She needs to calm down.”

“Go to Hell”, said Annie, half turning her head.

“I guess”, Molly said.

“Good”, said Martin, half shoving Annie through the screen door and leaving.

Once inside the duplex, and with Martin gone, Annie changed. Her face lit up and her eyes kind of looked off in different directions. She was pretty, with curly brown hair and a nice figure, well dressed in a really nice long skirt and some sort of flowered top. But Molly knew the look, she was crazy loaded.

“How you guys doing”, she asked with a big grin on her face. She carried a huge purse, the sort of thing that you carried a picnic to the beach in, and she began digging in it with one hand, much as a dog might dig in the garden. She extracted three tall cans of Bud and offered them around.

“No thanks, we've got whiskey”, Nell said.

“Oh my god! whiskey?” Annie asked.

“Don't give her any”, said Pete through the wall.

If Pete had said, “Don't jump off the roof”, Nell would have instantly been outside looking for a ladder.

“Here Annie”, Nell said, a little louder than necessary. Pouring a generous shot into a small vase that Molly had bought on a whim at the thrift store that week.

“Annie, want to come over and clean my house?” Said Pete through the wall.

“Sure!” Annie replied. She rose, exited Molly's half of the duplex and joined Pete on the other side of the wall. A couple of minutes later a vacuum cleaner started and Annie began singing lustily.

While this was going on, Pete came in carrying a USGS map. He spread it on the floor in front of the two women on the futon and asked, “You guys want to hike into Sykes hot spring tomorrow?”

“No”, said Nell.

“Is that where that guy is stealing food out of people's back packs?” Molly asked.

“What?” Nell asked.

“There's some guy living back there”, said Pete. “Been there for a year or so. He eats by stealing food out of people's packs.”

“Sounds scary”, said Molly.

“Yeah”, Nell added.

“Nah”, said Pete. “He never bothers anyone. And a lot of people leave food out for him. And he pays them back by leaving deer antlers and stuff.”

“It's just a campground?” Asked molly.

“No, it's a really nice part of the river you can swim in and a hot spring that you wouldn't believe.”

“How far in is it?” Molly asked.

“Really far”, said Nell. “It's a hot, dusty hike that goes on forever.”

“About ten miles”, said Pete. “It's really worth it.”

“So how do we do it?” Molly asked. “It's four hours to Big Sur. Can we make it in by nightfall?”

“Probably”, said Pete. “But there's camp grounds along the way if we don't. Terrace Creek and Barrow Flat. But we don't want to stay there unless we have to. We want to get to the springs.”

Nell interjected: “Yeah, Pete's such a man. He can't just relax on a trip. He's gotta push through and get there.”

Pete ignored her.

“I'm game”, Molly said.

“Yeah, I guess I am too”, said Nell.

Annie shut off the vacuum, entered the duplex and asked for another glass of Wild Turkey. She then returned to Pete's place to wash the dishes. Booze had a weird effect on her. While most people went to sleep when they got massively drunk, she got bright and perky with boundless energy that needed to be burned off. The three could hear the water running in Pete's place and Annie had resumed her singing.

There was a knock at the door and Martin came it.

“Annie's next door”, said Pete.

“Thanks”, said Martin.

We heard Martin through the wall, “Let's go”.

“No, I'm not done.”

“Mark and Gina said they need you.”

“They did?”

“Yeah, let's go.”

Annie stuck her head through the screen door and said, “Bye you guys!”.

Further out on the porch Martin said, “Thanks guys”.

“Shall we meet here at 9:00?” Pete asked.

“Yeah, that's fine”, Molly replied. “We taking your car?”

“Yup”.

Nell slept on Molly's floor that night and they both rose about 7:00 the next morning. Nell went home to pick up her stuff and Molly set about getting her own gear in order. She did this by laying everything out on the living room floor, in a certain order, so she could then see what she was forgetting. Flashlight, mess kit, canteen, plastic tarp, toilet paper, matches, paper towels, clothing, instant coffee, Swiss army knife, plastic cup, sleeping bag, insolite pad, etc. She than began stuffing her pack. She sat it on the porch and went to get cleaned up for the trip.

When she returned, Pete had put the pack in his trunk and was sitting on the porch drinking coffee. Molly joined him. It was one of those cool, sunny Santa Barbara mornings with dew still in the shady spots of the grass. The old part of Santa Barbara, where the duplex was located, was overgrown with exotic plants and flowers. And the two could smell them on the light ocean breeze.

“Nell's going to be an hour late”, said Pete.

“How do you know?”

“Because she knows I want to leave at 9:00 and she's pissed.”

And, just as predicted, Nell pulled up just before 10:00. “I had to stop and get cigarettes”, she explained.

“Where? Ventura?” Pete asked.

“Pete, it's too early for you to start being a dick.”

Pete got Nell's pack in the trunk and we all got in the car. Pete started the car and then just sat there.

After a few minutes in the hot car Nell asked, “Why are we just sitting here?”.

“Car has to warm up.”

“Pete, it's hot! Let's move!”

Molly was sitting in back and she opened the door to let in more air. After about five minutes Pete figured that Nell had been sufficiently tortured and they pulled out.

We stopped at the Morro Bay Albertson's for food because they sold those little single serving plastic packets of mayonnaise and mustard by the pound. Great for camping. Next stop was the liquor store.

“We might be in for for four nights, I'd say we all get a fifth”, said Pete.

“Yeah, give me that fifth of Kentucky Deluxe”, Molly said to the clerk at the counter.

Pete wrinkled his nose.

“It comes in a plastic bottle. That's a lot lighter and I can burn it. Not carry it out.”

Pete shook his head and ordered a fifth of Jack Daniels.

“KD is cheaper too”, Molly said.

“I figured that was part of it”, Pete replied.

“Aren't you going to get anything?” Molly asked Nell.

“No, I'm going to detox. Clean out my system on this hike.”

“Give me another fifth of the Kentucky Deluxe”, Molly told the counter guy.

With all the screwing around they didn't get to Big Sur station until 4:00 that afternoon. They got their permit, got a campsite in Pfeiffer Big Sur Campground and headed out to the River Inn for dinner. After dinner, and several pitchers of beer, the three returned and “Threw Down”. Their term or art for spreading their ground cloths, foam pads and sleeping bags but not bothering to set up a tent.

In the morning, Molly and Nell disrobed and got into the Big Sur River to clean up. Pete stood on the bank.

“Why don't you come in?” Asked Molly.

“No public nudity here”, Pete replied.

“No pot allowed either. But hey!”

“I got busted way up in the Sierras. Took a bath in a little pool and a ranger busted me. First tried to write me up for lewd conduct, but when he cooled down he ticketed me for public nudity. Lewd conduct would have made me a sex offender.”

Molly and Nell believed the story, they'd heard of prick rangers, but those types were rare and the two weren't that worried. Must have made a big impression on Pete though.

The first leg of the hike was a four and one half mile climb through the chaparral to Ventana Camp. Spectacular views of the coast were often visible here. Stuff you normally only see in movies. There were many small wildflowers and Molly and Nell decorated their hair with them, which gave them a very hippie look.

After this, the hike was up a canyon on a trail well above the river. Kind of hot and dry and often a bit boring.

“I told you this hike sucked”, Nell said to Molly, loud enough for Pete to hear.

They descended to Barlow Flats and then crossed over a last ridge to the Sykes turn off. They descended to the river and claimed a riverside campsite. A reward for being early. The area was a natural park, hard packed ground under a shady canopy of red woods. Hot, tired and dusty, Molly stripped and jumped into a nearby pool in the river. Pete and Nell followed.

Pete and Molly then initiated the tried and proven cure for sore hiking muscles, a few shots of whiskey and a long rest on a warm, flat rock in the middle of the river.”

Nell waded waist deep in the water towards Pete's rock. The water was crystal clear and the bottom made up of small, smooth flat stones. The water cool but not the biting cold of a higher mountain stream.

She said, “Pete, a shot of that whiskey would be wonderful”.

“You were going to detox and not drink.”

Nell didn't want to argue and instead waded up to Molly, “Did you hear? Pete's being a total prick again. Could I have a shot of your KD?”

“Look in the top of my pack. There's a fresh bottle on top there and I'll sell it to you.”

“I don't want a whole bottle, I just want a shot. I really do want to detox.”

“One!”, said Molly, holding the bottle out to Nell with her left hand and holding one finger on her right up in front of Nell's nose. “Just one, and if you want more you have to buy that bottle.”

Nell took the bottle, took a shot and then bought the bottle in Molly's pack about ten minutes later.

This was before Giardia became a problem and one could still drink from the river without fear. Molly and the rest enjoyed watching their pee turn from almost clear to a deep, dark yellow as they drank the mineral laden water.

The three were good at finding wood and, even though Sykes was popular, and well picked over, they soon gathered enough to cook with. They had requested a pack of frozen stew meat from a clerk at the Morro Bay Alberson's and he had got them one out of the back. Wrapped in a large towel for insulation, it was still fresh and cool after the long hike. They also had cherry tomatoes, bell peppers, onion and large mushrooms. And a bottle of Italian dressing for marinade.

“Shish Kabobs!”, said Nell as she began cutting and peeling small waters sprouts to use for skewers.

Pete and Molly built a rack where the skewers could span the fire and then built a fire in the middle. Over the following days it would be dried food with a few cans, but tonight they would eat well.

“Oh, that smells wonderful”, Nell said, as the marinated kabobs roasted over the coals.

As they cooked, they could see a steady stream of hikers arriving and heading for campsites further in from the river. The trail was about 20 yards from their camp. They were grateful for their early start that gave them their prime spot by the water.

A lone hiker suddenly emerged from the trees. A rarity, as most groups consisted of two couples with a dog on a leash. A good old fashioned hippie from the looks of the guy. Long, curly blond hair, hemp pants tied with a sash instead of a belt, and some kind of rough woven shirt. He turned off the trail and approached the fire pit.

“Any of you know the time?” He asked.

“Yeah, it's 5:40”, said Nell, glancing at her watch.

“Thanks. My watch is dead and I never thought it would bug me not knowing the time, but it does. Weird thing out here.”

“Hey, that's why I come here, to forget about the time”, said Pete. “You in here by yourself?”

“Yeah, on a long stay. Got laid off up in Daly City and thought I'd spend a month or so here before going back up and dealing with it. Trying to cover all the major trails.”

Pete was interested, this had always been a dream of his. “How long have you been in?”

“Four weeks now. Plan to stay two or three more. Then go home and file for my unemployment.”

“Want a drink?” Asked Nell.

“Sure, I'd love one.”

Nell poured some whiskey into her tin cup and handed it to the guy. “What's your name?”

“Nation”

“You hungry?” Molly asked. We have plenty.

“You know, to be honest. I smelled your stuff and that's the real reason I came over. Haven't eaten all day. Been hiking off the ridge. And all I have left are some nuts and oatmeal.” He followed this with a big, self conscious grin.

So Molly and Nell made up a few more kabobs for seconds and everyone began to eat. After dinner, Nation tried to pay back the favor by sharing some pretty good pot he had.

The sun was going down and making long, cool shadows. Pete said, “It's about hot spring time”.

“Agreed”, said Nation. “But if I'm not too stiff to stand up, might have to sit here for the night.” With a loud, “Aaaaagh”, he then rose to his feet. The others stood as well and the packs were covered with a plastic tarp, as coastal fog and drizzle could be expected as the night came on.

The hot springs were about two hundred yards downstream from the camp, mostly along a well defined trail by the river. But about thirty yards prior to the springs was a deep pool up against a bluff. This was skirted on an eight inch wide section of soggy dirt at the bottom of a vertical bluff. Here, the group walked sideways with their backs against the bluff. It was still just light enough to see fish in the four foot deep pool.

There were two pools to the hot springs. The “cool pool” by the river and the “hot pool” about thirty feet up the bluff. The hot pool fed the cool pool with a small waterfall. Well made stone embankments surrounded both the hot and cool pools and the upper hot pool was covered by a fallen giant redwood that formed a roof over it. It was generally believed that Grace Slick was singing about Sykes when she sang, “Sulfur springs make my body float, like a ship made of logs from a tree”, in the song “Eskimo Blue Day”.

The four stripped and entered the cool pool by the river. Ten other hikers were there trying to loosen up after the ten mile hike. Introductions were made and a bottle of wine was passed around. Molly was worried about germs on the mouth of the wine bottle while everyone, including her, unknowingly caught a case of Chlamydia from the mineral laden, body temperature water. Five days of Antibuse. with no drinking, would be required to cure the venereal disease. The cool pool had caused many misunderstandings that had ended more than a few relationships.

It was a very congenial and well mannered group, bearing out the maxim that pervs don't hike. There were nude beaches in Santa Barbara that could be driven to and these were absolutely gross. Perverts hovering everywhere. But once you got more than a mile in, things became civil.

Dusk came on and there was talk about moving to the hot pool above.

“Are there candles?” Asked Pete.

“There were none in there this afternoon”, someone said.

“We have a few”, said Nell, “Here, I'll get them.” She arose, dried off, got dressed and started down the path.

Pete counted off several seconds and then said to everyone in the pool, “Watch Nell fall in the river”.

This was immediately followed by a loud, “Sploosh!” and a cry of , “F**k you Pete”, from Nell.

Everyone laughed. They all knew they were being a******s and that made it even more funny, and harder not to laugh.

A soaking wet Nell returned a few minutes later with the candles. She glared at Pete.

The group moved to the upper hot pool and the candles were set around the edge and lit. The coast fog came in and a misty rain began. But it was cozy in the hot water under the giant log. Nell, Molly, Nation and Pete found places to wedge their heads in the rocks and floated high in the mineral laden water. They spent the night this way.

They woke at gray dawn. A weird species of mouse was everywhere around the pool. They hopped about and looked like miniature kangaroos. Molly watched one a few feet from her head as it sat up on it's hind legs and starred back at her. She wished she had some food to toss to it.

They returned to the camp for a small fire and instant coffee to chase away the night chill. Nation had worked with assembly language and talked with Pete about processors, memory and other stuff that bored Molly. Pete and Molly were systems engineers, but Pete hoped to get into control systems before he left the profession. Molly just hoped to get out of engineering as soon as possible.

About one, when the sun was just getting hot, Nell, Nation, Molly and Pete joined a large group of maybe twenty people in a rocky area of the river. Again, the water was clear, the bottom was smooth gravel and the rocks rising from the water were warm in the sun. The crowd sat on the rocks, passed bottles around, smoked pot and talked.

A perfect afternoon Molly was thinking, just as four sheriffs emerged from the brush. It was definitely an “OMG!” moment for the group. They had felt themselves isolated in the middle of the forest. Pot, papers and pipes were discretely dropped into the running water. But being naked was a problem. Something you couldn't just hop up and fix when your clothes were a hundred yards away.

“Oh my God, I'm going to have to register as a sex offender”, thought Molly.

“You!”, said one of the sheriffs. Pointing at Nation, who sat on a rock at the edge of the river.

“Get up!”

Two cops had appeared on the other side of the river to block Nation's escape.

Nation stood up and looked confused.

“Come over here”, said the cop.

Nation complied and two cops spun him around and handcuffed him.

“What are you doing to him?” Asked Nell

“He's been living back hear and stealing food from people for a long time”, said one of the cops.

“Yeah, for at least a year or so”, said another.

The cops read Nation his Miranda rights just like they did on TV, and then sat him on a large rock. Nation, naked and handcuffed, looked very forlorn.

A cop spoke into a radio on his belt. “We got him. About a hundred feet upstream from the springs. We're on the river trail.”

The same cop turned to Nation and asked, “Where's your stuff?”.

“It's at our camp”, Nell interrupted. “I can get it.”

“Go ahead”, said one of the cops.

Nell, barefooted and naked made her way back to the campsite as quickly as she could. She tore open Nation's pack and pulled the pot out of the top. She threw this into the bushes. She then dumped the pack and began sorting through the stuff as she repacked it. A cop came out of the bushes and watched.

“Just getting it packed”, said Nell.

“Uh huh”, said the cop. “Yup”, he added which somehow conveyed that he wasn't fooled. Nell handed the pack to the officer. He left with it and she quickly got dressed.

Back at the river five horses arrived. “What are they for?” Someone asked.

“He's under arrest. We have to pack him out. We can't make him hike when he's under arrest.” One of the officers replied.

Most of the crowd was dressed by this time. The cops were only after Nation and they didn't stop anyone from going back to get their clothes. Basically, the cops were in a good mood. Riding in here after some hippie trying to be Yogi Bear was a lot more fun that what they normally did.

The cops took off the handcuffs so that Nation could get dressed. They then put them back on, but in front this time. Warning him that any funny business would go badly for him.

Two four wheel ATV's then made their way down the river path. One cop on each.

“That Yogi?” Asked one of the ATV cops.

“Yup”, said one of he original four. “Got him cold.”

“Where are you taking him”, Molly asked.

“Carmel”, said one of the cops. “You can see him at the Justice Center after he's processed through. But you probably won't be able to do that until tomorrow.”

“Can you ride a horse?” One of the cops asked Nation.

“No.”

“Well, then, you're going to learn. Put that foot in this stirrup.”

And with this, they loaded Nation into the saddle of one of the waiting horses. The other cops mounted up and made their way back down the rive path. Nation, gripping the saddle horn, turned for a last look at his companions. Pete gave him a Vulcan salute. He smiled.

The magical mood of the trip was broken. The three were also out of whiskey. And given this, they decided to hoof it out that same day. They packed and set out on the trail. Another group gratefully took their prime campsite by the river.

Nation, with the help of a public defender, was sentenced to sixty days of public service cleaning bathrooms and painting picnic tables in various national forest areas. Which got him on as a seasonal temp worker in the Forest Service. A position he later leveraged into a permanent maintenance worker position.

Just Before Cell Phones

Nell, Pete, Molly and Jane had planned to climb Mt. Whitney. This was not a technical climb requiring ropes and carabiners, but a hard, steep hike up a well maintained trail to the summit. And although it was only eleven miles to the summit, the trail gained 6,200 feet over this distance. And this difficult hike was made more difficult by the fact that all four climbers lived in Santa Barbara, and all within 500 yards of the beach. None were acclimated to high altitudes, a serious matter on a hike that started at 8,400 feet and ended at 14,505 feet.

There were camps along the way to allow the weekend warriors from the coast to acclimate to the altitude. A lovely place called Outpost Camp and many semi-legal spots by the river. But the four considered themselves experienced hikers and felt these half way camps to be for weenies. Their plan was to ascend six miles and 3,600 feet to Trail Camp at 12,000 feet, well above the treeline. They would then leave most of their gear there and make the final five mile, 2000 foot ascent to the summit the next morning.

But right now they were somewhere in the desert along Highway 395. They really weren't sure where. They hand planned to make it to the Lone Pine Campground along the Whitney Portal Road before dark and sleep there. But their endless screwing around that Friday night after work gave them such a late start that at 2:00 AM they finally just pulled off into a pull out, walked out into the desert and threw down ground cloths and sleeping bags. They then went to sleep, planning to finish trip the next morning.

Nell awoke first. It was pitch black, the bright moon that had accompanied them to the camp had set. The air was cool and moist and it felt like it was just before dawn, although Nell had no idea what time it was. Molly was curled up in her sleeping bag next to her and Nell shook her awake.

“Listen”, hissed Nell to the half awake Molly.

“I don't hear anything”, Molly replied, feeling that her belief that Nell was a bit touched was being confirmed.

But there was something there. Molly propped her head up on could now clearly hear a large animal breathing. Breathing calmly, but not too far away. And then there were very heavy footsteps. Not loud, but perhaps a slight vibration in the ground conveyed that something with some real mass was walking out there. Then more breathing and more walking.

Both Molly and Nell sat up. The sounds were coming from several directions. And one source seemed to be between the group and the car. But in the black night they were a little uncertain of exactly where the car was. Molly didn't think she could point to it.

Molly shook Jane awake.

“Shhhhh”, Molly said. “There's something out there.”

Jane sat up and listened.

“There is”, she replied in a hushed tone. “What is it?”

“We don't know”, hissed Nell.

“Wake Pete up”, whispered Molly.

Jane reached over and shook Pete. He didn't wake, but instead made a loud noise like, “Snerk!”.

He then rolled over on his back and began snoring loudly.

Nell leaned across Molly and Jane's sleeping bags and began punching Pete's arm in time with the whispered words, “Pete … shut … up, Pete … shut … up”.

In response, Pete rolled over onto his stomach and stopped snoring.

“Forget him”, hissed Molly.

“They're not coming any closer”, whispered Nell. “I don't think so.”

“Yeah”, Molly whispered back.

“What!” Said Pete in a very loud voice. He then resumed his rhythmic breathing.

“Anybody got a flashlight?” Jane asked.

“No”, said both Molly and Nell.

Nobody had thought to bring a flashlight because of the bright moon. They could do nothing but sit, listen and pray for dawn. Molly consoled herself by thinking that, because of Pete, whatever was out there knew their position and hadn't attacked. And besides, the logical part of her said there were no large, dangerous animals that lived way out in the desert like this anyway. And then her imagination countered with images of lost, hungry bears that had come down from the Sierras. And the heavy breathing continued.

The East lightened and a few minutes later, by straining their eyes in the lessening darkness, the could see that they were surrounded by a herd of wild donkeys. All facing inward towards the campers. The women stood and began collecting their gear. Nell kicked Pete to get him awake. And in a few minutes they were on their way.

They found they weren't that far away from the trail head and had time to get coffee at the portal store while Pete picked up their permits. They passed the portal campground and were glad they stayed in the desert. It was packed. Likewise the parking area at the trial head. There were people sleeping between the parked cars. They finally found a parking place and began checking over their gear. They were then on the trail.

It was a lovely hike up Lone Pine Creek. Huge granite formations could be seen. A much different type of forest from Los Padres behind Santa Barbara, or Big Sur, the places where the group normally hiked. Every type of habitat on the planet save jungle would be encountered on the way up. Pine forest, alpine meadows, grasslands, tundra and then arctic.

But it was the hardest hike that any of them had ever encountered. Pete had been here before and was aware that it was the altitude that made it so hard to pick up your foot and put it in front of the other, but this wasn't as clear to the rest. They simply felt exhausted, and put their heads down and bulled forward. After the first couple of miles, they were no longer enjoying the lovely scenery, they were just trying to keep moving.

They stopped for lunch at the three mile mark. The knowledge that they were only half way to Trail Camp, their ultimate destination, gave Molly the urge to throw in the towel and head back down. She could sleep in the parking lot until the rest got back. Only the realization that she would never live this down kept her going.

As they pushed on. Molly thought of a Zen story where a Zen master had crossed the Himalayas in the winter. When asked how he had done this, he replied that he had just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Molly would have found this inspiring except she was too exhausted to be inspired.

Summer turned to fall which turned to winter as they climbed higher towards Trail Camp.

At dusk they pushed through a large rock formation, almost a gate, into the Trail Camp area. It was a spectacular place. A large flat field of boulders with the pinnacles of the Mount Muir to Mount Whitney ridge towering above them. The area was crowded, but not overly so. A fierce cold wind was blowing, but they were too exhausted to set up the tent. That could come later. They sat in the lee of a large boulder while Pete got his Primas stove going. Water was heated and they all had a hot cup of ramen soup. They could feel the heat of the cup of soup through their gloves. It was dark and very cold by the time they finished.

Nell produced a plastic pint bottle of whiskey and this was passed around. When finished, their pain had been numbed enough to get the tent up. There really was not flat spot. The area was tiled with large flat rocks with big boulders poking through. They positioned their tent the best they could in the lee of their boulder and crawled inside, pulling their packs after them. A small, battery powered lantern was hung from the top of the dome.

In the dim light Molly was horrified to find her Insolite pad had dropped off her pack somewhere along the trail. This is what insulated her from the freezing ground while sleeping. Her down bag was no protection. The crushed down below her body was no better insulation than a bed sheet.

“My Insolite is gone”, Molly said.

“Gone?” Asked Pete.

“Yeah, it must have fallen off my pack.”

“Well you should have tied it tighter”, said Pete, unhelpfully.

“F**k you Pete”, said Nell. “It happens.”

“Maybe I can turn mine sideways and we can share it”, suggested Jane.

“Yeah, that might work”, Molly answered.

It didn't really work as only the shoulder to elbow was insulated from the ground this way. And both were only half on the pad. The best solution they could find was to share Jane's square bottom bag while using Molly's folded mummy bag to insulate their lower bodies. Down jackets from the others were folded on either side of the pad. This didn't work that well, but it was better than the freezing ground. Molly was able to sleep for a couple of hours this way. The freezing wind that had been howling around the tent died.

Nell shook Molly awake.

“Wild animals?” Molly asked in the darkness of the tent. Jane awoke too, they had been holding each other for warmth.

“No, someone yelled 'Help'”, Nell said. “Way off in the distance.”

They listened and heard nothing. Without the howling wind the mountain was deathly quiet. And then it came, a faint, “Help”. Not loud, but it was clear that the person was shouting at the top of the lungs.

They shook Pete awake and this time they didn't fool around.

“Someone needs help out there”, Nell said.

Pete listened, and after a long pause they again heard the faint cry for help. Pete arose and grabbed his down jacket from under Molly and exited the tent. Nell grabbed hers from under Jane and followed. Just as they got outside the flap, they heard the shout again.

“Heyyy!”, yelled Pete. Then Pete and Nell yelled together, “Heyyy!”.

The faint cry for help came back immediately.

“It's over there”, said a new voice outside the tent. It counted one, two, three, and then everyone, including Jane and Molly screamed, “Heyyy!”.

Jane an Molly got their jackets on and exited the tent. Other climbers were arriving, drawn to the shouts. They then heard a faint whistle blow. They counted one, two, three and shouted, “Whistle!”, as loudly as they could. The whistle blew back.

A quick meeting was held. Topo maps were studied and the various climber were dispatched to various areas of the boulder field at the base. It was assumed that the person in distress had fallen so the base of the pinnacles would be searched. And that was where the voice seemed to be coming from.

Molly's party only had one light, so Pete and Nell would search first. When cold and fatigue got to them, Molly and Jane would go out.

Molly and Jane went back into the tent and slept luxuriously for another hour on top of Pete and Nell's Insolite and sleeping bags.

Then Pete burst through the tent flap and woke them with a shout of, “We need the sleeping bags. Get out of bed.”

“What?” Said Jane.

“We found the guy. He fell off the switchbacks and broke his hip and God know what else. He's been laying out there in just a sweatshirt for hours. We need the bags to cover him up.”

“Oh my God”, said Jane, jumping up and trying to get the bags together.

“Lay them all out on top of each other. Put the Insolite in between.” Molly said. “You can get it all under one arm that way.”

As they worked, Jane asked, “How bad is he?”

“He's freezing to death”, said Pete. “He's not making any sense anymore. We need to get him warmed up.”

With this, Pete left the tent with the sleeping bags. By the time Molly and Jane got their coats and gloves on he was gone. They waited in the tent, this time not comfortably.

Pete arrived at the scene of the fallen climber with the bags and Insolite. Two other parties arrived with the same. Fortunately, the injured guy was pretty much flat on his back. Four people lifted his left side as evenly as they could and a triple layer of Insolite was slid under that side. The same was done with the right. Then ten down sleeping bags were unzipped and piled on top of him.

Before the guy lost it from the cold, he had explained that he had been on top with a large group of other climbers. He'd been having fun talking to them and hadn't paid attention to the time. Way too late he had decided to make his way back down. There was a warming hut on top and the other climbers had advised him to hole up there until morning. None had a coat to give him, but they did have scarves and stadium blankets and such that would have kept him alive until dawn. After a very miserable night.

He had refused and made his way down as quickly as possible as the sun set. Shortly after dark, somewhere in the switchbacks down from Trail Crest, he had stumbled in the dark and gone over the edge. He said for the first thirty seconds or so he wasn't even worried. He was skidding down at about fifty miles per hour on his butt thinking about what a great story this would be. The trail cut out of the side of the mountain then switched back directly into his path. He hit it and began to windmill. That's the last he remembered until he woke up freezing on the boulder field and screaming for help.

He had a whistle on a lanyard around his neck and his left arm still worked well enough to get it into his mouth, which probably saved him from freezing to death. He had been able to guide the searchers in before his strength failed.

Shivering in the tent, Molly said: “Someone has to go down for help. I guess that should be us, we're the most rested.”

“Better than sitting here freezing to death”, Jane replied.

The moon was still up but setting fast. The two followed the voices across the boulder field to where the injured climber lay.

“Can someone give us a light? We're going down for help.” Molly said to the group.

Molly got no argument. All of the people present had climbed from the trail head that day and hadn't slept yet. They were all exhausted and the six mile hike back down in the dark sounded horrible.

“We've got one in our tent”, said one of the guys. “Follow me, we'll get it.”

With the light, Molly and Jane returned to their tent and took their water bottles and a half pint of brandy. They left the rest of their gear after removing the pot from their packs. They then set out through the huge stone gate at the entry of trail camp and started down the mountain.

They were sore and tired, but the steep trail was almost all downhill and they made good time. Almost jogging down the trail, landing with a heavy thud with each step. A mistake, they would later learn. After half an hour, their hats and gloves came off. After an hour their coats were unzipped.

It happened to Molly shortly after the halfway point. A stress fracture in her right knee. The day's stress had just been too much and a hairline fracture developed at the top end of her right tibia. At first she could ignore the pain, but it rapidly grew in intensity until all she could manage was a clumsy limp.

“You might have to go on alone”, Molly said. “My knee is really bad and I'll slow us up too much.”

“My knees hurt too”, Jane replied. “Let's stick together and just slow down. We're almost there.”

Molly found a stick to use for a cane, but she was still extremely slow. Taking over two hours to cover the last half of the trip as opposed to one hour for the first. And the pain was becoming extreme. She drank some of the brandy and this helped.

“I forgot to get the f*****g car keys from Pete”, said Molly as she hobbled along.

“Oh, no!”

“God I hope there's someone in that parking lot or we'll have five more miles to go at the bottom to get to the ranger station.”

Molly didn't know that Whitney was so crowded that climbers set out everyday. Permits were staggered and weekdays were no different from weekends. The parking lot was always crowded and as Molly and Jane left the trail they were gratified to see people sleeping between cars, just as on the morning of their arrival.

They awoke the first group they came to and related the story of the fallen climber. In five minutes they were on the road to the ranger station. Molly range the door bell and beat on the door.

“Yes, what is it?” Said a voice from inside.

“Somebody fell off the switch backs and he needs help”, Molly replied.

“Is he hurt?”

“Yes, he's in bad shape.”

“Just a minute”, said the voice.

The door opened to reveal a guy in khaki ranger pants, a white t-shirt and white socks.

“OK, what happened?”, he asked.

Molly and Jane related what they knew. The guy immediately got on the radio behind the counter and requested a medical team with a stretcher.

The guy who drove them in said, “Wow, bad stuff”.

“The medical guys should be here in about 20 minutes. They'll stop here before going up. You two should stick around in case they have any questions.” Said the ranger.

Molly nodded. Jane and her had no place to go anyway. The medical team, a group of five guys, pulled up in a fire engine about fifteen minutes later. And and they did ask Molly and Jane some questions, mostly about where to find the guy. They then set out.

They were in great shape, accustomed to the altitude and they had been up the Whitney trail more times than they could count. They arrived at the stone gate to Trail Camp in about two hours and twenty minutes. They shouted “Medics” and the people surrounding the downed climber guided them in with their flashlights.

The sleeping bags were removed and the medic in charge examined the climber in a cone of flashlight beams.

“We're not carrying this guy down”, he finally said. “Get an IV going and give him something for the pain. We'll bring in the Huey at dawn.”

At this moment, Molly and Jane were sleeping sitting upright in chairs in the ranger station reception area.

The Huey came when the sun was high enough to give good light to the landing area. One of the medical team guided it in with a smoke bomb in each hand held high over his head. The landing was amazing, the rotors only yards from some of the large rocks. The medics were waiting with the guy on the stretcher and they pushed him in the side door.

“Can we put his pack in there?” Someone asked.

“Yeah”, said the pilot out the window. “But hurry, I'm out of gas.”

Nell and Pete ran for Jane and Molly's packs and gave them to the guy with the smoke bombs. He loaded them along with the injured climber's pack and the Huey roared off back down the mountain.

The rangers delivered Jane and Molly's packs about 9:00 AM and then drove them back to Pete's car. Molly couldn't really walk at this point. The drank the last of the brandy, spread their sleeping bags and slept in the sun. Nell and Pete came down about 1:00. They loaded the car, had lunch and a few beers at a place in Lone Pine and then headed home.

The stress fracture crippled Molly for about eight weeks. She found she could get around Santa Barbara without looking like a freak by walking her bicycles and leaning on it. They never learned what happened to the fallen climber.

Travels With William

William lived in Santa Barbara, a place that more than tolerated gays. A city where people fully accepted them and defended them. By and large, gays were not even remarked upon. And it was in this environment that William's ways earned him the nickname of “Gay William”. Mostly from the gay community.

He was one of Molly and Jane's best friends, and quite an interesting character. He was a decent violinist and he and Molly would often play together, Molly on her viola and William on his violin. They did Christmas carols on State Street downtown every year. William had been close to achieving first violin in his high school orchestra, but a lovely little girl with long, blonde ringlets had beat him out. When the position was announced, William felt she had won with her looks, and not with her talent, and William had broken his bow over his knee and tried to strangle her with the horse hair. This got him kicked out the the orchestra and, in Williams opinion, was the reason he was now only a mediocre violinist. 

His real talent was on the piano however. He was a master of the music of Luis Moreau Gottschalk, a weird, extremely intricate form of very early jazz and ragtime that, for the most part, was never fully written down. Gottschalk wrote figured bass and chording, but most of the color notes were improvised and had to be inferred from the music's structure. Strange, wandering, rapid melodies that moved in very unexpected ways.
 
William was a psychologist, but for unexplained personal reasons, no longer practiced. He didn't need to. His middle class parents had purchased four nice houses in Santa Barbara before the boom. William had inherited these, along with some other assets, and he was fine financially. He had no interest in listening to patient's problems.

Jane, Molly and William were sitting in Molly's living room on a Friday afternoon. It was the eve of the Memorial Day weekend. They were drinking chardonnay and listening to some odd music William had brought over. He had a vast collection of little known but enjoyable stuff in all genres. They were doing this while sitting on Molly's futon on the floor. The only piece of furniture in the room, if one didn't count the TV and stereo against the far wall or the potted palm under the front window. 

“You really do need a couch in here”, William said. “It would add so much to the decor. And while sitting on the floor does have it's charms, it's hard on the back after a while.” 
William offered up a toast with his wine glass as he said this.

“I had one”, Molly answered. “Paid on it for a whole year and then I sold it when I moved up here from Newport Beach. Sold it to my neighbor for thirty-five bucks. Was sick of hauling it around.” 

“I can loan you one”, William replied. “I've got all my parent's furniture in storage. Old style stuff, but good quality. Maybe a white leather over stuffed sofa and chair?”
“Nah, like I said, it'd just give it away the next time I move.”

“You could just give it back to me.”

“That might work”, said Molly, after a moment's consideration, who if truth be told, was also tired of sitting on the floor.

“I'll get on it right after this glass”, said William. 

About two hours later William showed up in is pickup truck with his friend Elmer. Molly was sure Elmer wasn't his real name, but he would never tell Molly his real name. The two guys carried in the white leather sofa and an armchair. They were heavy and Molly was glad for William's promise to take them back if she moved. They also brought a steamer trunk to use as a coffee table. They dragged the futon back into the bedroom and the furniture was set up. 

“It's beautiful”, said Jane, admiring the dark, carved hardwood on the front of the couch arm. 

“Now you two can live like girls”, said George. “Maybe I'll bring over a picture for the wall next time.”

“A dining room table for the kitchen would be nice”, said Jane, looking at Molly. 
“Here, let my take you guys out to dinner”, Molly said. “Where do you want to go?” Molly then bit her tongue. You didn't ask William and Elmer where they wanted to go, you simply offered to take them to a restaurant you had selected. Left to their own devices, they would want to go to Chameleon.
  
“Chameleon!” They both said. 

Chameleon was actually a nice place, more of a bar than a restaurant, but with good food all the same. They also had a huge aquarium with chameleons in it. From the pictures Molly had seen, she had always visualized these to be huge, maybe ten inches long. But these were tiny, maybe two inches at the most. But Molly was still fascinated by them. They really did change color. 

William and Elmer knew everyone in the place and all was good, except the guys at Chameleon loved to dance. And, as the only women in the place, Molly and Jane were targets. They could have danced all night if they wanted to. But neither Molly nor Jane really liked to dance. And they weren't that good at it, while everyone else in the place was a master. 

After dinner Molly and Jane made excuses but were eventually pulled out onto the dance floor where people tried to teach them Samba and some new types of Brazilian dances. They struggled through it for an hour and then Molly claimed a bad hip and sat down. Shortly thereafter, Jane, claiming to need to help Molly, sat down too. The two guys joined them.  

“You two want to do a road trip this weekend?”, William asked. “I'm going to make a stop in the city and then go up to see some people in Guerneville.”
“What are you doing up there?” Jane asked. 

“Watch an improv group on Saturday night and then go see some friends on Sunday. They just bought a house up by Guerney and they're doing some heavy work on it. I want to see how it's going. And Elmer won't leave Santa Barbara.”
“Yup”, said Elmer. “I like it here. Why would I leave?”

Molly looked at Jane and Jane shook her head “yes”, “Yeah, it sounds like fun. We'll go.”

Per their arrangements, William picked up Molly and Jane at 10:00 AM the next morning. They arrived in San Franciso at about 4:00 that afternoon, way to early for the improv stuff. So they parked on the North side of the Golden Gate and walked back across on the pedestrian path. Neither Jane nor Molly had ever done this and it was lovely. At this hour you could see the shadows of the towers and cables on the bay. 

The improv was to perform in a huge coffee house called the Spiritual Monkey. The place looked like it had once been a church, with a high, vaulted ceiling and high frosted windows with round tops. There was a covered walkway that led to other outbuildings, with matching architecture, but these were rented to other businesses. A real estate office and a music store. The group was setting up their stage when Molly entered, a collection of two foot high plywood tables, with four by four's for legs, that all screwed together. They had two high wattage lights in reflectors at each corner of the stage.

“Billy Boy!”, shouted William, and a guy that was bent over bolting the tables together stood up and embraced William. 

“A big classic hug for you”, said Billy Boy. 

“These are my friends Jane and Molly”, said William. 

"Will they need t-shirts?"

“Yeah”, said William. “Absolutely.” 

Billie went behind the stage and fished out three black t-shirts. 
“There's a bathroom over there”, said William. “Go put these on.”

“Why?” Asked Jane. 

“Because it makes you one of the group and you get free dinner that way.”

“Oh”, Jane replied, and Molly and Jane headed for the bathrooms.

The rest of the cast appeared, all dressed in black t-shirts and jeans. Just like Molly, Jane and William. They retired to tables along the covered walkway where they were served some kind of organic burrito thing. A green tortilla surrounding greens, some weird beans and a bland sauce. Molly and Jane were hungry so they ate it. Cups of coffee then came out and the group relaxed as the sun set. 

A guy sitting next to Molly suddenly opened up with his theory of humor. He was a neat, smart and well mannered guy, but to Molly and Jane his theory sounded overly complex and convoluted. He also seemed much too serious and earnest to have anything at all to do with comedy. His name was Mike and he asked Molly to tell him a joke. 

“I don't know any”, Molly replied, meaning she didn't know any clean ones, and the rest she didn't care to tell to strangers.

“I've been trying to make one up”, said Jane. “Maybe you can help me with the punch line.”

“Sure”, said the guy. “What do you have so far?”

“Well, this woman had a schnauzer dog, but she wanted a Mexican hairless chihuahua. So she went to the drugstore and asked the guy for some hair remover. And the drugstore guy said that if you put this on your legs, it's gonna ruin your skin and make your legs all dry and scaly. And the woman says, mind your own business, I'm not going to put it on my legs. And the guy says, then where are you going to put it? And the woman says, I'm going to put it on my schnauzer.”

“And?” Said Mike. 

“I need a punch line”, said Jane. 

Mike then launched into a twenty minute analysis of Jane's nascent joke, most of which went over the heads of Jane and Molly. 

The crowd had assembled and the improv group moved to the back of the stage. The game seemed to be that people simply leaped up onto the stage when they felt they had something to add to the conversation. If this slowed, then Billy Boy sent people into the game much as a football coach would.
 
The group on stage asked one of their members why he looked disturbed. He explained that he'd been walking down the street when someone had jumped out of a tenth floor window and landed at his feet. With this, several people pushed Molly over. She screamed. They grabbed her wrists and ankles and carried her onto the stage. They dropped her with a loud “Whoomp” on her back, on the plywood at the guys feet. It hurt.
 And the guy said, “Yeah, it was just like that”.

The audience laughed and group gathered to discuss Molly's “suicide”. Molly, suddenly in front of several hundred people and several bright lights, just lay there. 
 
Jane was later pulled onto stage and told to act like a chicken whilst a guy recited  the soliloquy from “Omelette”. 

After the show, and after the stage and lights were packed up and loaded into two pickup trucks, the entire crew descended into a dark little cafe in the Lower Haight where they had whiskey and hearty bowels of beef stew to hold down the vedge and air burrito they had eaten earlier that evening.

There was some guy on the tiny stage with a huge, white beard and overalls. He played a collection of banjos and fiddles made out of automotive junk, mostly hubcaps, and he sang strange songs about such things as his cat getting out. He was followed by a young woman who would snap her fingers and recite clever, rhyming poetry about different aspects of her life. She was quite entertaining and the place filled with female couples for her act. She obviously had a fan base.  

They unrolled sleeping bags on the floor of Billy Boy's nearby apartment and spent the night. The next morning they had coffee in Billy's tiny kitchen. 

“So you're going up to see Steve and Robert?”

“See how their house is going”, William replied. 

“Quite an adventure that is, not sure I'd have the nerve for it”, said Billy.
 
“Oh, they'll be millionaires if they pull it off”, observed William. “And bankrupt if they don't. But you can recover from bankruptcy.”

“Quite, but I do so miss the old Steve and Robert. Before they got quite so responsible and serious. Do you remember that time ….”

William interrupted, “Let's not go there. There are ladies present.”

Billy laughed. William noticed that he had a black coffee cup with a white saucer and that Molly had a white cup with a black saucer. He reached over and exchanged his white saucer for Molly's black one and then admired the result.  

Later, as they were loading the car, Molly and Jane saw a flock of parrots come over the roof tops and land in a nearby tree. Escaped parrots that had banded together into flocks and who now lived free. Both had heard of this, but they had never seen it until this morning. 

The group first drove around Petaluma because none had ever been there and they all wanted to see it. They then stopped in Santa Rosa for brunch. So they didn't arrive at the house outside Guerneville until just after noon. 

It was a large, white wooden structure just on the other side of the road from the Russian River. It appeared to date from the 1920's or 1930's. Eight guys were working on the well dug up yard and there were stacks of railroad ties off to one the side. Fresh concrete walls, with re-bar sticking out the top, could be seen on the slope down to the river. They pulled into a graveled parking area and began climbing from the car. 

Two guys working in the yard stuck their shovels in the ground and descended to meet the group.

“Mr. William!”, said the first.

“Roberto!”, William called back. 

The two arrived, Robert and Steve, and introductions were made all around. Both Robert and Steve appeared to be in their mid thirties and were quite good looking. 

“So this is your house?” Molly asked as they climbed the yard. 

“Yeah, Steve and I committed to it last year.”

“What are you doing to the yard here?”

“There was an earth movement problem. We're trying to stabilize it.”

“Did you know about that when you bought the house?”

“Oh yeah”, said Robert.  “We got a good price because of that and the owner carried us. It's the only way we could have bought the place. If we get the lot stabilized, we win big time.” 

Molly was fascinated and said, “Something like this is probably the only way I'll every be able to buy a house in Santa Barbara. I'd really be interested in seeing what you're doing.”

Robert laughed. “We were exactly the same way. We knew a guy who did this back in Mill Valley, and that got us looking. We found this place and he basically told us what to do about the slide. He'd been through it. Kind of gave us the guts to commit.”

After lunch, Robert and Steve took Molly on a tour of the retaining walls and drainage systems that they hoped would stabilize the property. The theory was to get the water off the property and into the river as quickly as possible. The yard was being terraced with retaining walls built of railroad ties, staggered so that there was a railroad tie wide gap between each two ties. This gap was filled on the backside with mesh. The floor of each terrace was waterproofed concrete with a foot of earth on top. Everything sloped to facilitate quick run off. 

Behind the house was a deep ditch that filled from the hill above it, and often turned into a pond. This was being expanded and graded for quick run off And someday Robert and Steve hoped to replace it with with a fast flowing concrete channel or, better still, a huge french drain. 

Most of the work was being done by hand right now as the two had little money. Once they achieved a certification that the land was stable, bank loans would be available, but they weren't right now.  Most of the workers in the yard lived in the house and exchanged labor for rent.

“That's why the house is still kind of a wreck”, said Steve
. 
“Yeah, we'd love to fix it up, but first we gotta stop it from going down the hill into the river”,  Robert added.

William went to town and sprung for pizza. An impressive stack of pizzas given that he was feeding Robert, Steve, the six other residents of the house as well as his party. 

Over dinner Steve asked Molly, “You and Jane want to come to our AA meeting tonight?”

“I'm not in AA”, said Molly
. 
“Me neither”, said Jane. 

“It's an open meeting, anyone can come. You'll meet a lot of good people from the area.” Said Steve. 

“All you need is a desire to stop drinking”, Robert added. “Think you'll have that someday?”

“Yeah, I'd almost bet on it”, Jane replied.
 
“OK, then you're good”, Robert replied. 

“You want to go?” Molly asked William.

“Nope”, he replied. 

“William has a thing about AA”, Robert explained. “Here, look.”  Robert grabbed a book off the shelf behind him and sat it on the table in front of William. 
“Remove it, Robert”, William said. 

“No, I think you should read it”, Robert replied. “It would be good for you.”

 “Yok! I have to go pee. I'll leave you people to your silly book.” And William rose from the table.

William replaced the book on the shelf with a chuckle.

The AA meeting was in a large underground space in Guerneville. Perhaps the basement of some public building such as the city hall or court house. They had arrived at the back of the building by way of an alley so it was hard to tell. There were tables randomly placed about the room. The people were from the Russian River area, almost all same sex couples. The women were the most flamboyant, with the current fashion being heads shaved on the sides and the remaining hair dyed in vivid rainbow colors. The women sat shoulder to shoulder with their partners. The men were more casual, longing about every which way. Two people were to speak that night. 

A woman was passing around small slips of paper. She handed one to Jane.
“What's this?” 

“Are you new?”

“This is the first time I've ever been to something like this”, Jane replied. “Is it OK if I'm here?”

 “Sure”, the woman replied. “If you're here for alcohol, just stand when they ask you to. Their gonna ask for visitors and out of towners too. If that's what you are, then just stand then.”

“But what's this”, asked Jane, indicating the piece of paper. 

“That's Step Five, you read it after someone reads Step Four. Just listen and you'll know when it comes. And Robert and Steve are here. They'll kick you if you start to miss it.”
With this she gave a nod to Robert and Steve.
 
“And who is this”, she continued. 

“That's Molly. I'm with her.”

“Here Molly, you get Step Six.”

“What's your name?” Asked Molly.

“Merriam”

Candles were lit at each table and the lights went off. A series of announcements were made and then the person leading the meeting asked:

“Are there any people here in their first thirty days of sobriety?”

Two people stood. 

“Hi, I'm Al and I'm an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Al”, the room mumbled. 

“Hi, I'm Joan and I'm an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Joan”, the room muttered. 

“Out of town visitors? Or, as we call them O.O.T.V.'s, or “Ootvees” for short.”

Jane and Molly stood. 

“I'm Jane.”

“I'm Molly.”

“Where you from?” Someone yelled from the back of the room.

“Santa Barbara”, Molly replied and everyone clapped. 

“Who wants to read Chapter Five?” The meeting leader asked, and passed a book off to a raised hand. 

Merriam came over with a small flashlight to light up the book. The woman to whom the book had been passed read from it.

 “Chapter Five, how it works”, the woman began:

“Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves. There are such unfortunates. They are not at fault; they seem to have been born that way. They are naturally incapable of grasping and developing a manner of living which demands rigorous honesty. Their chances are less than average.

There are those, too, who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest. Our stories disclose in a general way what we used to be like, what happened, and what we are like now. If you have decided you want what we have and are willing to go to any length to get it -- then you are ready to take certain steps. At some of these we balked.”

At this point the woman halted her reading and everyone in the room cried, “Baaaawk, Bawk, Bawk, Bawk, Bawk”, like a flock of chickens. They did this for a thirty seconds or so and then the woman resumed reading:

“..... Here are the steps we took, which are suggested as a program of recovery:

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol, that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.....”

A different person read each step from a different part of the room. Both Molly and Jane realized this was what their slips of paper were all about. The effect was startling, voices coming out of the darkness from all directions

 Step Four was then read by someone:  "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”

“Step Five”, Jane read as loudly as she could. “Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

“Step Six”, Molly followed. “Were entirely ready to have God remove these defects of character.”

The rest of the 12 Step were then read and Merriam, the woman who had given them the slips of paper, was then introduced as the first speaker.
 
Merriam said that she had owned wood shop here on the Russian River and made custom furniture and mandolins. But she would not touch her power tools after she had been drinking, which got to be pretty much all the time. So she eventually lost the shop and went into a period of depression and round the clock drinking. 

She explained how she would lose track of the time, waking up on the couch in the dark and not knowing if the six o'clock on the clock face meant that it was the same evening or early the next morning. Or perhaps even the next evening. 

Eventually, her partner threatened to leave her if she didn't get help. She got sober and was now in the process of rebuilding her business. Some of her old clients came back when she explained to them how her alcohol problems had caused her to be irresponsible in the past. She now had contracts repairing furniture for a couple of the large hotels in the area. 

The second guy who spoke seemed very happy with life and had a hard time being serious. Almost everything he said devolved into a joke and the rest of the room howled and laughed. But he somehow got his story across. He'd been married for years and, as a gay man, felt out of place in the situation. For years he attributed his drinking to this. But then his wife left and his daughter entered college, and he no longer had an excuse. But his drinking got worse anyway. He had always managed to keep his job but the weekends were getting rough. His daughter came home unexpectedly and found him on a rough weekend. She knew he was a drinker, but she was horrified with what she saw, and she convinced him to seek help for her sake. He did. And once sober, he left his job in the city, which he had pretty much always hated anyway, and moved to the river. And he said that he was now quite happy with his new life as a nellie old f*g. 

The group then formed a ring around the room with everyone holding hands. They said the Lords Prayer and the meeting was over. 

“You guys coming to ice cream?” Someone called to Robert and Steve.
 
“Yeah, we'll be there.”

About half the guys from the meeting were in the ice cream parlor. Several tables were taken up by the group. They must have done this on a regular bases as Molly noticed that the girl waiting the tables simply asked most if they wanted the “usual”. Al, the guy who had stood up at the start of the meeting was there talking to a couple of guys. Steve said he'd been coming for three weeks now, but that everyone had to stand up for the full first thirty days. He was almost there. 

“You might not guess it now, but we were a lot worse than that guy in the meeting”, said Steve. 

“Yeah, he was kind of a piker”, said Robert. “We were real drunks. You have to come hear one of us sometime.”

“Yeah, we used to get in trouble”, Steve continued. 

“A lot”, Robert added. “Crazy stuff.”

“We were the 'But' people”, Steve noted. “That Robert, he's a great guy, butttttt......”.

“Hey, and that Steve, he's a great guy, butttttttt......”. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Jane asked. 

“Five years now”, said Robert. “We celebrated Steve turning thirty and then turned ourselves into rehab a couple of days later.”

“When the hangovers wore off”, added Steve.

“I'm going to risk preaching a little bit here”, Robert began. “But it's something that everyone needs to know. Quitting drinking is sort of like the Three Stooges knocking down a door. They get all revved up for it, they run for the door and then someone opens it just before they hit. The day before I quit I didn't think I would ever be able to live without alcohol. The day after, I went 'Wow, this is nice. Wish I'd done this years ago.'”

“Yeah, as you go through life, notice that the people who admit they might have a problem with booze almost never do. It's the ones who think they don't have a problem that crash and burn.” Added Steve. 

“Did William tell you about Don?” Robert asked.
 
“No.” Molly replied. 

“Ok, then never ask”, said Robert. “And forget we said anything.”

Back at the house sleeping arrangements were made. The house was huge and there was a spare bedroom, with a bath, for the three. No furniture, but sleeping bags on the floor would do fine. The most important thing being a close place to pee in the middle of the night. 

Knowing what she now knew, Molly saw the damage the earth movement had caused as she passed through the house. The cracked plaster on the walls and the uneven floors. 

“That's phase two”, said Robert. “Leveling the house so that it can be restored. Maybe getting the whole house up on some type of screw jacks so that it can be tweaked every few years. Or sinking pilings below the level of the hill for the house to set on. We'll figure it out when we get that far.”

“What are you going to do with a house this size?” Molly asked. 

“Cease being wage slaves”, Robert replied. “This will be a bed and breakfast for people like you who need a spell along the river.”

“That's what I want”, Molly confessed. “A little coffee shop and wine bar in the redwoods. I wasn't cut out to work for an aerospace outfit.”

“And I wasn't cut out to work for a bank. So you better get busy with getting out.”

The next morning William, Molly, Jane, Steve and Robert had a wonderful breakfast on the deck of a little cafe just down the road from the house. That morning the cafe featured eggs Benedict with spinach and avocado. Molly noted the combination for her next life.
 
Driving home, William opened up with Molly and Jane. 

“I don't want to scare you two, I think the world of you, but I want you to know that I was in the joint for five years. And that's why I don't practice anymore. I lost my license over it.”

“What?” Said Molly, this was a shock out of the blue.
 
“I killed my partner. And probably why I'm still single today. I just can't get back into it. The couple thing.”

Both Molly and Jane just sat there, kind of numb. Neither could picture George killing anyone. 

“He was about dead anyway. I see it as kind of just putting him out of his misery. The court kind of saw it that way too. That's why I got off light. He was HIV positive and he had a crack problem. But he got cleaned up and was doing OK, but then he relapsed. Got off his drug program for the HIV and was going down hill fast. Didn't want help. We could both see the end coming and one day I just went kind of nuts and shot him. We'd been arguing all day and I just went kind of crazy at the end.”

Molly tried to think of something helpful to say, but could not. 

“Kind of got into it with the NA people. While he was going down, they wanted to take over everything and manage our lives. People showing up everyday with worthless advice. Getting in the way and messing things up. That's why I sort of have a bad taste about all that recovery stuff.”

“Steve and Robert seem OK”, said Jane. 

“It's a two edged sword”, William said. “It can do a lot of good, but it can also do harm. It really helped Steve and Robert, but when I was in the city I saw a suicide that probably could be traced to a bunch of amateur psychologists messing with the guy's head.”

The somber mood held until they pulled into Santa Barbara and William helped Jane and Molly unload their stuff onto Molly's porch.

After William left, Molly invited Jane to come in for a moment, explaining that they could carry her stuff around to her cabin in the back later. 

Sitting on the coach that William had given her, Molly began, “We're both thirty years old, and neither one of us is doing what we want. We're both kind of stuck in a rut. And a lot of time we don't notice because the rut isn't that bad �" at least most of the time it isn't. But I think it's gonna get worse.”

Jane only nodded. 

“I think we need to work together to get out. Get something we really want. Like Steve and Robert.”

“You and me?” Asked Jane. “Together?”

“Yeah”, said Molly. “Let's put that stuff on the porch in the bedroom here. We can move the rest of your stuff tomorrow. We're going to need that rent money you pay on that little s**t hole out back for when we move North.”

Jane was silent for a moment, and then replied: “I like the idea. I wanted to suggest it, but I was afraid.”

And all went well for the rest of the summer, and then into the early fall. But Molly should have seen the next phase coming. 

Her father, Bjorn, was smart, and more than smart, he usually missed nothing. His education qualified him to be a physician, but he had never taken the necessary exams and continued on with his biochemistry. He was now installed as a senior administrator at the Vail Valley Medical Center. One of the better institutions in the country.

He had unexpectedly come to California to fill in for another colleague at a conference at UCLA. That weekend, he had decided to surprise his daughter in Santa Barbara with a visit. He pulled up in front of the duplex, a somewhat shabby and plain structure, but with the palm trees in the yard, and the other foliage, and the nearby Victorian mansions, he had to admit it had a certain charm.

Knocking at the door, Molly seemed unusually surprised to see him.

“Dad!”, she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Come in.”

“Had to cover for a guy at a conference at UCLA and I thought I'd stop up for a visit.”

Her father entered the small living room and was gratified to see that his somewhat eccentric daughter finally had some furniture. Specifically, an elegant white leather couch and a matching arm chair, along with an interesting looking steamer trunk for a coffee table. With a piece of glass on top, no less. A decorating feat he would never have expected her capable of. He had expected to find a collection of model airplanes and motorcycle parts laid out around her somewhat grimy lavender futon, and little else.

A petite, attractive woman, with long brown hair, and baggy men's clothing was washing dishes at the kitchenette. A young woman he recognized as Molly's friend Jane. She smiled.

“Hi Jane”, said Molly's father. “Done any skiing since you were up at my place?”

“Not since we came back”, Jane replied. “And thank's for having us. Those were the most fun two weeks of my life. I never would have done anything like that on my own.”

“Jane and I are roommates now”, Molly noted. “We're both trying to save some money.”

“Well, I just drove up from Westwood”, said Molly's father. “Can I use your bathroom? I have to pee.”

He saw a odd look momentarily cross Molly's face, “Yeah, you know where it is, Back in the bedroom.”

Traveling through the bedroom to the bath, Molly's dad noted that the grimy, lavender futon was not lost, merely moved to the bedroom. Against one wall was a large pile of s**t, clothing, books, a compound bow and a couple of large model airplanes. Obviously Molly. But against the other wall was a dresser, a neat clothing rack and a small make-up table. But there was no other bed in the room.

“So does Jane sleep on the couch?” Molly's father wondered as he entered the uncharacteristically clean bathroom.

They went to dinner at the Paradise Cafe, a wonderful open air restaurant just off State Street. Jane tagged along without being asked.

They were seated on the patio and they enjoyed the sunshine for a few minutes. Banana trees filled the planters around the patio. There was a colorful fresco of a western scene on the wall directly above them.

“So what have you been up to?” Asked Molly's father.

“Like I said, mostly we're trying to save up some money”, Molly replied. “We're sick of what we're doing and we want to get a nice little coffee shop up above San Fran. I talked to you about that a while back, but we're serious now.”

“We?”

“Jane and I”.

“You and Jane are partners now. Huh?”

“Yeah”, said Jane.

“We are”, said Molly, looking a bit disturbed.

The night went well and Molly's father retired to his hotel and promised to return again in the morning for breakfast.

“Does your dad like me?” Asked Jane that night under the blankets.

“Of course he does”, Molly replied.

“Does he know about us?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven't told him yet. OK? I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

It was clear this bothered Jane, but Molly didn't want to get into it, so she feigned sleep.

Jane was still silent and thoughtful as she showered and dressed for work the next morning. Molly's father showed up about an hour after she left.

“So, where for breakfast?” Her father asked. “That place up on De la Vina where we used to go or the beach?”

“De la Vina closed but the beach is still there. And they still have those biscuits we liked.”

“Where's your woman? Doesn't she want to come?” Her father asked.

“My what?” Molly's jaw dropped. “What are you saying?”

“Here, sit down”, said her father as he sat on the elegant white leather couch. “You two are pretty close. I saw that when you came skiing last winter.”

Molly sat and her eyes welled up.

“You and Jane are a little more than roommates. Right?”

“You're right, We're close. And we have our little secrets.” Molly replied. She was crying.

“Those aren't little secrets”, her father replied. “They're huge ones.”

Molly sobbed.

“It looks like you basically got married. You took a life partner, I assume that's what Jane is, and you didn't tell me.”

Molly continued to sob. Finally she said, “I'm sorry, I was so afraid”.

The two were silent for a long time, and then Molly's father said, “My friend Tom Mulvaney, you know him, his daughter married a creep. She had three kids and then he left her. She's working at a convenience store now. Trying to support those kids. I was always afraid you'd end up like that. You were always kind of a free spirit and I was always afraid that you'd get in trouble. But it looks like you've teamed up up with a really nice and supportive person. You have some nice plans for your lives.”

Molly could only nod.

Her father said: “Why don't we go out tonight and celebrate this? Welcome Jane into the family.”

The next day Molly called her mother.

“Dad's here and we've been talking. And I know you don't like him, but I need to let you know what is going on.”

“What?” Her mother asked. Molly could hear that she had been drinking.

“Well, I sort of joined up with someone”, Molly said. “I'm part of a couple now.”

“What's his name”, her mother asked suspiciously.

“It's not a him, it's a her”, Molly replied.

The line was silent for a long time and then her mother began screaming. Molly never tried to interrupt. She listened for about two minutes and then it just became too horrible and she hung up.

She cried for a long time. As far as she could tell, her mother was now dead. And, as time went on, her mother ensured this. All attempts at reconciliation were met with insulting questions about Jane and the relationship. Years later Jane would notice that sometimes, when the conversation died, Molly would look off into the distance and there would be tears in her eyes.

The Book of Nell

Nell, at forty-three was older than the rest of the crowd, who for the most part clocked in at thirty to thirty-five, but professionally she was on the same level, i.e., five to six years into her working life. She had seldom took a full load while at UCSB because she had little money and usually had to work full time. In addition, she simply liked the student's life and Pete, the love of her life, was there, so she had taken eight years to earn her EE degree. This after starting late due to a failed early marriage.

Her dream had been to go on for a Phd, but her grades had not been top notch and it was perhaps a blessing that she had not made the program. She no doubt would have grown old and died as a twelve dollar per hour graduate student.

Nell had buckled down in her last year and graduated because, as she describes it, she had simply been used up. There was nothing left, and she couldn't go on. She had burned through all the available grants, loans and scholarships, she had no items clothing that weren't rags, no shoes that were not coming apart, her car had died years before and there was little chance of entering the graduate program �" once her great hope for a regular, if very modest, income while at the university.

But, as she was a woman, and women were in great demand in the engineering field at that time, she had no problem securing a decent graduate engineering position at a local company called SBRC. And for the first time in her life she was able to buy everything she really needed. And perhaps still have a little money left over at the end of the week.

She was in a good mood one Friday afternoon because she had calculated her finances prior to leaving work and had discovered she had more money in her checking account than expected. It would have to be transferred to savings when he next paycheck arrived. She bought a 1.75 liter bottle of cheap white wine and went to visit Molly, Pete's next door neighbor. She would wait for Pete to come home there.

“I love this couch and chair”, said Nell, sitting in Jane and Molly's little living room. “Molly, it was about time you stopped being a hippie with a mattress on the floor. You're a professional now. You need to act the part.”

Nell was about three quarters of the way through the bottle of cheap wine and was getting a bit flushed an magnanimous.

“I don't need it”, Molly replied. “It's heavy and hard to move. I wouldn't have it unless I could just call William and have him take it away.”

“Gay William?”

“Yeah, it belongs to him. He put it here because he comes over all the time and he doesn't like sitting on the floor.”

“You're successful”, said Nell. “You have a good job and you're making good money. You need to live that way.”

“We're saving all the money we can”, said Jane. “We don't buy a lot of stuff.”

“Saving for what?” Nell asked.

“To get out of the engineering job. Get out of Jane's s****y temp jobs.” Molly said. “We're going to try to buy a coffee shop and wine bar up North. I talked about that already.”

“You and Jane?”

“Yeah”, Jane said.

“Since you two are thick as thieves, why don't you team up and buy a house? Buy one here in Santa Barbara.” Nell suggested.

“What would we do with a house?” Molly asked.

“You could make a lot of money on it”, Nell replied.

“Yeah, but then I'd be trapped at SBRC for a long time. And that's what I want to get out of.”

“Gawd, you sound like Pete. Or worse, Pete and Bob.” Said Nell.

“So are you going to buy a house?” Jane asked.

“Of course”, said Nell. “It's the smart thing to do. If I don't go in with Vickie, I'll buy a mobile home out in Goleta.”

“Ick, Pink Flamingos”, said Jane.

“It's a start. You gotta work up.” Said Nell.

The conversation ended when they heard someone on the front porch and Pete's door opened.

“Pete, we're over here”, Nell called out.

“I'll be over in a sec”, Pete replied.

A few minutes later Pete came in with Bob.

“Bob came up from the Valley”, said Pete.

“Yeah, I'm up here now, not down there.”

Bob was an odd character, one who could best be described as a large, slightly overweight beatnik. Right after graduation Pete had done a one year stint down in the Valley, at Hughes Aircraft. before finally finding his current job in Santa Barbara. And Pete was loyal to Bob because Bob had helped him get through this miserable time of his life. Mostly by getting drunk with Pete between his trips back to Santa Barbara.

“Bob, why is your hair so long? You look like a biker.” Nell asked.

“Oh, I got a haircut a while back and it cost more than what I spend on food for the week. So, I stopped getting them. They're bullshit.”

“Doesn't your work care?” Nell asked.

“Wrong question”, Bob answered.

“How so?”

“The question is, do I care if my work cares?”

“Don't they want you to look professional?”

Bob shrugged and then added, “My boss said he'd probably grow his out too if he wasn't bald.”

After a moment's reflection, Bob added, “I think I was happier as a hippie. Maybe I'm just going back to my roots.”

“Well, you came to the right place, Molly and Jane are hippies too”, said Nell.

“I see they have furniture now”, said Bob.

“Reluctantly”, Nell replied. “And they don't think it's a good idea to buy a house.”

“I didn't say that”, said Molly. “I said Jane and I didn't want to get tied down with one.”

“I wouldn't want to get tied down with one either”, said Bob. “But hell, I'm down in the Valley now and I don't want to get stuck there. So ask me what I think when I get out.”

“Well, I can understand you're point”, said Nell. “I wouldn't want to get trapped down in that hell hole either. But Pete, do you think it's a good idea to buy a house?”

“No.”

“Why?” Nell asked. Her tone of voice indicated she was getting frustrated. Also a little drunk.

“It's like Bob said, I don't want to get stuck here.”

Bob interjected: “I'd give my right arm to be stuck up here you spoiled f****r. You come back down to the Valley for a while.”

“By here I'm saying SoCal”, Pete replied. “I want to go to the redwoods. Somewhere where it's not crowded.”

“If you've got the world by the tail, why not take advantage of it?” Nell asked.

“I work with a lot of guys who think they have the world by the tail”, said Bob. “But as far as I can see, they got it backwards.”

“Backwards?” Asked Nell.

“Yeah, the world pretty much has them by the tail. So you move out of your apartment into a house. Maybe you get a better car too. So what? You're still a schmoo in the Valley with a job that sucks and a boss you hate. I make twice what I made when I graduated and you know what has changed in my life? Nothing. Not a damn thing. I have a little better apartment, my car is in a little better shape and I worry about bills a little less. But nothing has really changed.”

“Kind of the way I feel”, said Molly. “I have a job. And I don't hate it, like I hated fast food jobs, but it's still just a job. And it takes up most of my life. And the deal seems to be that if you trade most of your life doing your job, then you get some trinkets. Stuff that you really can do without.”

“Yeah”, said Jane. “And it's almost like you need the trinkets to keep you sane in the life that you've trapped yourself into. The only thing to look forward to is buying the next new trinket.

“Well, looks like we've pretty much figured out the meaning of life, so now let's go hit a beer joint”, said Bob. “How about that one in Goleta? The one that the crazy guy runs?”

“The English Department?” Asked Pete.

“Yeah, that one.”

The English Department was a beer bar in Goleta run by a guy named Rod, an English professor who had failed to get tenure at UCSB. Rod and his wife now ran the bar at night. During the day he worked on a novel and built on a huge, rambling, free form house up in the mountains behind Santa Barbara. A never ending project.

There was a parking lot behind the bar and the first thing you noticed when you left your car were the weeds. The grew everywhere. Along the back of the parking lot, along a crack between the asphalt lot and the building, along the street beside the building, out of pot holes in the lot and all around the front door. They were at least four feet high and the rumor was that Rod watered and cultivated them. About once per year the city would come and cut them down, but it hadn't progressed past that point yet.

They entered through the back door and saw Rod immediately inside, with a pool cue in his hand. He made camera noises at the people he hadn't seen before and asked who they might be.

Rod, his wife and his daughter were all working, which meant they were playing pool. Rod's victories were marked on a chalk board on the wall behind the table. He had beaten both his wife and his daughter about twenty times in a row, but his daughter now had him on the ropes. There would be no service until the game ended. Rob bobbled a shot which put the eight ball in front of the corner pocket with the cue lined up a couple of feet away.

“Your father has always been good to you and pool means a lot to him”, Rod whined. “And he doesn't handle humiliation well.”

“Sink that ball!” Yelled Lois, Rod's wife.

“How can I do this to my own dad?” Said Rod's daughter.

“He's not your real dad. Now sink that ball!”

Dutifully, Rod's daughter knocked the eight ball into the corner with a loud, “Whack!”. Rod's wife cheered and marked the victory on the chalkboard.

Rod returned to the bar.

“What will it be?” He asked.

“A Pina Colada”, said Pete.

In response Rod pulled out a Budweiser and opened it. Sitting it in front a Pete.

“An Orange Daquiri”, said Bob, who was also rewarded with a Budweiser. Eventually, everyone was served.

There was a huge tub of peanuts in the corner which people ate as they drank beer. Rod provided Elmer's glue and paper so that after a nut was ate, the eater could write a message, put it back in the nut and then glue the two halves of the nut back together. An then put it back in the tub. As a result, at this point in the process, about a quarter of the nuts had goofy notes inside them instead of peanuts. Molly had just found an ad for cat food torn from a newspaper.

The bar closed at ten. Rod and Lois didn't like to stay out late. They moved up the mountain to Rod's house. It was huge and mostly built from unpainted, scavenged wood. But it wasn't just the house, there were elevated bridges through the oaks and platforms and tree houses to hang out in. Colored lanterns gave the slope behind the house a magical look.

Nell, Molly and Jane were talking to Lois on one of the decks.

“So when did you guys buy this house?” Nell asked.

“Oh, it was more than twenty years ago”, said Lois. “It was just a one room fishing cabin. Something for people in town to come up and use on the weekends.”

“Is any of it still here?” Asked Molly.

“Oh yeah, it's the living room now”, said Lois. “Look when you go in there, you can see that it once was a house.”

“I'm thinking about buying a house”, said Nell. “Everyone here seems to think it's a bad idea, but others say it's smart.”

“Be careful with the debt”, said Lois. “We never really had a lot here. The cabin was cheap and we paid it off in five years. And that was a godsend when Rod didn't get his tenure. We didn't have to go packing and had enough to start the bar.”

“That's what we want to do”, said Molly. “Go North where it's still cheap and buy something. Something we can pay off.”

“But you won't have the income up there”, said Nell. “There's no jobs except in San Francisco, and nothing is cheap there.”

“Hopefully we'll have our business. I don't want to be tied down in my job for five more years waiting for my house to appreciate enough to sell it.”

The next day, Saturday, Nell got to work on her house project. She had five thousand dollars saved and she was determined to buy her a house. But she soon found out that five thousand dollars and her income got her nowhere in the Santa Barbara real estate market. She was locked out even when she combined her income and savings with her friend Vickie.

The solution seemed to be a mobile home in a Goleta mobile home park. There were incentives to help her close the deal which made the purchase possible. She wouldn't own the lot, but the fact that the mobile home occupied the scarce lot would provide for some appreciation. And a long term lease would protect her from eviction.

Two weeks later, on a sunny Saturday, Nell arrived at Jane and Molly's with a bottle of wine.

“I don't know”, said Molly. “I think it's hard to beat the system, and that's what you're trying to do. People like us just don't have enough money to play the real estate game around here.”

“And how do you know the trailer will appreciate?” Asked Jane.

“It's not a trailer, it's a mobile home”, said Nell. “And they all appreciate. Everything appreciates around here.”

“I don't know anything about it”, Molly confessed. “But be careful Nell. It sounds like one of those things that could bite you.”

“The only other thing is if we all threw in and bought a big house of all of us. You, Jane, Pete and maybe Vickie too. Put together, we have enough for that.”

“I don't want that”, said Jane.

“No, me neither”, said Molly. “I like our plan. We're just going to enjoy Santa Barbara until we have enough money saved, and then we're going to move somewhere that we can afford. Everything is all grabbed up around here.”

Six weeks later Nell closed the deal on the mobile home. There was a housewarming party and everyone came to see it. It was wonderfully clean and nice inside, the tiny yard was well manicured, and the gates and railings were all painted gleaming white. And the area wasn't what you would call a “trailer park”, with all the bad connotations. It was mostly inhabited by retirees who had sold their Santa Barbara houses at an incredible profit to facilitate their retirement and by young married workers at the city's three aerospace companies. Engineers with their first of second child. But Nell's group somehow still found the situation dismal, though no one could say why.

“Do you close these when hurricanes come?” Said Pete, grabbing one of the cheap, fake tin shutters on the trailer window.

“Pete, quit being a butt hole”, said Nell, with real irritation in her voice.

But all would have worked out if the aerospace market hadn't started to get tight. War with Russia was no longer on the horizon and the piles of government money started going elsewhere. SBRC had never been overly concerned with Nell's performance as they could use her degree to bill her out to the government at an exorbitant rate. But these cost plus contracts went away and Nell soon found she could do nothing right at work. She dreaded going in each morning and spent many nights crying in fear. She had no savings now.

She scanned the want ads. The engineering ads had once rated their own section in the paper, but they were mostly gone now. And there was nothing on line.

She called the recruiter who had placed her at UCSB.

“The place is going down”, Nell said. “I have to get out. I'll take anything you have in Lompoc or L.A. I can drive if I have to. And I think I can rent my place out and go even farther if we can't find anything close.”

The recruiter choked up. “If you have a job, you better keep it. I have people calling me everyday who are a lot more desperate than you. You wouldn't believe what I hear. There are no jobs out there right now.”

Nell put the mobile home on the market, but there were no buyers. She then discounted it, walking away from any equity and everything she had in it, now just trying to save her credit rating. Hoping to start again somewhere else.

But there were still no buyers. Not even any lookers.

Leaving California

Compared with most places, going to the airport in Santa Barbara was delightful. Molly's trips to France always left from LAX and Molly was well acquainted with the miserable trip through L.A., the parking lot miles from the terminal, the shuttle buses and the rest. Here, one simply cruised down Hollister Avenue, turned left on Fairview, pulled into the spacious parking lot in front the mission style terminal and then just walked right in.

Molly didn't even have to pass her office at SBRC on the trip. This was further on down Hollister past the airport turnoff. Passing her office on a weekend gave Molly a creepy feeling, as if some giant hand would reach out and drag her inside. She couldn't help comparing what she was doing at the moment with being at work. And this would remind her she had to be back at work on Monday. And this would usually spoil the rest of her day.

Her dad was coming in for a five day visit from Avon Colorado and it was April, the best time to be in Santa Barbara. Cool sunny days that could be faced in shorts and everything green and fresh.

“Probably wished he'd never moved”, snorted Molly to herself. “He's sick of that snow.”

Molly was looking forward to the visit, but was a little apprehensive. This would be the first extended visit since her father outed her and Jane during his short stay last summer. Molly had already arranged for William to be scarce for the week, fearing that the presence of William might just be too much gay in the room for her poor father. She would start him slowly with just herself and Jane.

She entered the terminal and scanned the board for her father's flight. She was just in time, it was arriving. Santa Barbara was still old school and when the plane pulled up, a stairway was rolled out. The door opened and people began to descend and walk towards the terminal. After a moment, she saw her father and waved through the glass. He waved back.

“Welcome back”, said Molly as he entered the building.

“Yes, I've forgotten how nice it was here in Spring.”

“Sorry you moved?”

“Well, no. But that doesn't mean this place isn't nice. I guess it's the sea air. You probably can't smell it, but it hit me as soon as I stepped off the plane. Brought back a lot of memories.”

As they moved to the baggage area, Molly's father asked: “Where's your woman?”

From the corner of her eye Molly could see her father suppressing a chuckle, and she decided she wasn't going to put up with five days of this.

“Dad, there's just some things that you shouldn't try to tease me about. Some of this is uncomfortable for me and your teasing makes it worse, not better.”

Molly's father was a horrible tease, sometimes driving her to screams of frustration when she was younger, but he seemed taken aback now.

“OK, sorry”, he said, and then began to chuckle. “I was just thinking about that line for the last two hours, and I couldn't resist. By the way, where is Jane?”

“Working. She works at the News Press now and doesn't get off until six.”

“A reporter?”

“No, a proof reader. And she helps with the website. But it's a regular job. Not one of those wretched temp positions, so she has health insurance now.”

“Good, I was worried about her. You still have insurance from SBRC. Right?”

“Yeah”, Molly answered. Molly wondered what her dad would obsess about if he had been, say, a circus clown instead of a medical professional. Perhaps a pet monkey or the number of cream pies in the 'fridge.

Miraculously, the bag her father had checked was not lost and the two left the terminal. As Molly opened the trunk for the bag, her father said:

“You have a bad front tire. That's dangerous.”

“They're all bad”, Molly replied. “I don't go on the freeway with the car anymore. I just take it down Hollister to SBRC.”

Her father circled the car and said, “You're right, they're all bald. Why don't you spring for a set of tires?”

“Might have to, but we're trying to save all we can and tires would eat up a whole paycheck and then some.”

“To go North?” Molly's father asked.

“Yeah, we hope to go soon. I can't stand my work anymore and Jane is already starting to hate the News Press. It's not as bad as her other stuff, but probably just as bad as SBRC.”

They entered the car and drove out of the lot.

“Santa Barbara is a bad place to work”, said Molly's father. “I've seen it. Jobs are hard to come by here, and people desperately want to live here. So they end up staying in jobs after they would have moved on in other places. The whole place gets kind of inbred.”

“You're exactly right”, said Molly. “I'm one of the few people at work under fifty who hasn't been there for at least 20 years.”

”A bunch of old guys trying to manage each other”, said her father. “I know it well. That's why I'm gone from here. I've got a nice place to live in Summit and a job in a place that's actually alive and growing.”

“I would think Vail Medical would be like Santa Barbara”, Molly replied. “Everyone in the world would want to work and live there.”

“No, the cost of living turns a lot of people away. And the place is sort of like Disney Land, sort of flashy at first glance, but lacking a lot of substance. It doesn't have the elegance of SB. So they actually have trouble pulling in really good people. But they do. And the place is growing by leaps and bounds, and that makes a difference.”

“Well, even if I could get past the inbred old guy problem, I just don't like what I do. Ninety-nine percent of engineers engineer nothing. I mostly run standard tests on equipment, and that's the good work. When it's not there, I count beans. Just a boring job in a cube.”

Molly's father chuckled again, “I told you to go to medical school”.

“Yeah, maybe I made a mistake.”

“Being a company man, or woman in your case, isn't for everyone.”

“It definitely isn't”, Molly replied as they pulled up to the duplex.

To her horror, Gay William stepped out of Pete's side of the duplex and waved. He wasn't, per their agreement, making himself very scarce. Pete and Nell came out next and craned their necks at the car. As they exited the car, Nell called out:

“Hello! Are you Mr. Peterson?”

“I am!” Molly's father shouted back across the yard.

“We've been waiting for you guys”, Nell answered. “William has something really cool.”

“Oh really!”, shouted Molly in a somewhat irritated tone of voice, as she opened the trunk. Pete came down and carried one of her father's bags.

Once in Molly's half of the duplex, William and Nell entered carrying a painting.

“I told you two I'd get you something for the wall so you two could start living like girls”, said William.

William placed the painting against the wall and stood back. It was a painting of a woman who was almost unquestionably a flapper. She had the strap dress, a cloche, the bob and and an almost perfect spit curl in the middle of her forehead. She sat at a piano and smiled out onto a year that would have certainly sounded like science fiction to her. Something in her face conveyed that she really knew how to have a good time.”

“OK, first thing”, said William. “You can't actually have the painting. It's valuable and it's been in our family for a while. You have to give it back someday. But you can borrow it.”

William looked at Molly and she nodded.

“OK”, William continued. “This is a painting by Ted Lukits. He's a Romanian guy who used to do plein air with Frederick Remington. He started out in Paris during the last of the Belle Epoch and he actually studied under Hector Guimard.”

Molly nodded, everyone who had ever lived in Paris had admired Guimard's elaborate Belle Epoch metro entrances.

“He made his bones as a plein air painter, all those desert scenes and such, but before he did that, he worked in Hollywood as a portrait painter. Back in the 1920's. In the golden age of Hollywood. He did a lot of the major players back then, but this is a minor player. Her name is Ethyl Waid. She wanted to be an actress, but she never made it. But she was really brave and she made her living by hanging by her knees from the landing gear of a bi-plane. In her bathing suit. Apparently, when they didn't have a paying gig, the pilot would take her up and down Hollywood Boulevard to increase her name recognition.”

“Isn't that cool?” Said Nell.

“Yeah, it's a great story”, Molly replied.

“I thought this would be a good painting for you and Jane, with your motorcycles and all. Ethyl would probably feel right at home here if she was still around.” William continued.

“Well thanks”, said Molly. “It really is a wonderful thing to have around.”

Molly's father stepped forward and shook William's hand.

“Anything that distracts Molly from motorcycles and model airplanes is most welcome”, he said.

“Glad to meet you. I assume you're Molly's father.”

“Yes, I'm Bjorn”, Molly's father replied. “The name is Icelandic, but Molly and I are pretty much 100% American now.”

“Glad to meet you”, said William. “But I'm being rude running my mouth. Surely you're tired after the trip. Sit down on the couch here. I have excellent Chardonnay if you'll just let me run next door.”

“Interesting chap”, said Molly's father. “Where do you know him from?”

“Just from around town”, Molly replied. “He one of our best friends. He gave us the couch and char.”

“I noticed those when I was here last summer”, said Molly's father. “I thought you were just becoming civilized. But it was William. Huh?”

Molly nodded.

William entered with three bottles and a handful of glasses. Jane followed him in.

“Hi, Mr. Peterson”, said Jane as William sat everything on the steamer trunk that served as a coffee table and fished in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife.

“How are you Jane.”

“Fine, I'd like to thank you for when you took us out that last time last summer. I feel so much better after we all talked. I feel like we're a family.”

“That's what I wanted”, Molly's father replied.

“Well, it means a lot”, said Jane as she turned to help Nell and William with the pouring and distributing of the wine.

When all the glasses had been passed out, Molly's father raised his and said, “To the family”.

“To the family”, everyone replied.

Everyone except Molly's father thought it good form to get slightly drunk if there were more than two people in the room and booze was available, and the wine was quickly drunk. Jane then produced a bottle of Wild Turkey and shots were poured into the empty wine glasses. Molly's father was out of shape for this sort of thing and he was the first to give.

“Oh my God no”, he said when offered another shot.”Let's go get something to eat. Is there something within walking distance? None us should get near a car.”

“Joe's” Said Jane.

“New Joe's”, corrected Pete to Molly's father. “The Joe's you know closed up. Someone opened a new one a couple of doors down. All screwed up and different, but the food is still pretty much the same. Somehow they got the menu.”

“And we can walk?” Asked Molly's dad.

“Yeah, just a couple of blocks”, Pete replied.

To Molly's father, New Joe's really was a disappointment. It sort of looked like a Denny's inside and Mr. Peterson found himself waxing nostalgic for the funky booths and Formica tables of the old Joe's Cafe. Formica with 1950's style boomerang patterns on it. He recalled eating here when Molly could stand on the seat of the booth and eat off the table. He had asked her if she knew what a boomerang was and was surprised that she did.

But Pete had been right, the menu hadn't changed and they all ordered heavy meals of roast beef, mounds of fried chicken, baked potatoes and bread. Sourdough bread and salsa was one of the house specialties.

“So what's a plein air painter”, Molly's father asked William.

“Technically, it just means 'open air' painter or someone who paints outside. But the meaning got a little more specialized. It's a technique that uses the color of the atmosphere to give a three dimensional effect to the work. A lot of the paintings are of far off mountains and hills for this reason.”

“How does it do that, the three dimensional effect?” Molly's father asked.

“It's an illusion done by slight color variations down the field of view. Things slowly being obscured by the atmosphere as you get further away.”

“Don't all realistic paintings do that?”

“Not really, the light changes very rapidly and most ordinary painting just go with it. So the effect is lost. For a real plein air, you need to get the colors down in about ten minutes or the light will change too much. So they don't paint in the actual light. They have a sketch and they add color notes to it during the ten minutes or so. Just little dabs of paint. They then finish up the painting using the color notes as a guide.”

“A pretty elaborate method”, said Molly's father.

“Yes, and one that got wiped out by the camera. Lukits was one of the last and he died in 1992.”

“Very interesting”, said Molly's father. “I'll see if they have some pieces at the museum here.”

“They do”, answered William. “I'll go with you and show you if you want. I've always been a big fan of the school. And go to the museum to see it. You can't see the technique in art books because the images are too small. And I think that's one of the reasons that the school isn't that famous. Nothing like the impressionists.”

“Which do fine in art books”, noted Molly's father.

“They do”, William replied. “So everyone knows them.”

“It would be nice to see these guys, maybe sometime this week when Molly's at work.”

“Could be done”, said William.

“So what do you think of New Joe's”, Molly asked.

“I think I prefer Old Joe's”, her father replied. “Do you remember all the times we came to Joe's to eat when you were in grade school?”

“Sure do, I cried when the closed down. I had been going there all of my life.”

After the meal, everyone went their separate ways in the night. Molly, her father and Jane stood just outside the front door of the New Joe's.

“I need a cab to upper State”, said Molly's father. “I have a reservation at the Ramada.”

“Then let's walk down to Paseo Nuevo”, said Jane. “There's always cabs there.”

A cab was located and, after arrangements for breakfast the next morning, Molly's father sped off. Jane and Molly walked home, feeling a little more sober after the meal.

That night, Jane drew up close to Molly under the covers and whispered, “Does your dad like me?”.

“I'm sure he does. He would have found a way to say something if he didn't. Does your mom know about us?”

“No”, Jane replied.

“What?” Molly started. “After that huge deal you made about me not telling my dad? You still haven't told your mom?”

“Well, your dad's nice. And he understands. My mom wouldn't. And that's all I'm going to say.”

“How do you know she wouldn't”, Molly asked.

“The things she says. She suspects me and asks me why I'm not married and stuff. Says bad things about gay people in front of me. I don't want to get into it.”

Molly let it go. It was just to complicated to deal with late at night with the booze wearing off.

The next days were spent visiting old places that Molly had attended with her father prior to her leaving for college. Molly's father had moved to Avon while Molly was attending UCLA in Westwood and they hadn't really done Santa Barbara together since.

On the fourth day of he visit, ,Molly, her father, Jane and William walked from Butterfly Beach by the Biltmore almost to Santa Clause lane. The tide had been rough and the abandoned oil wells were poking through the beach sand. Tightly capped so as not to spill oil. Several sailboats had come loose from their moorings in the fool's anchorage and lay smashed on the rocks against the bluffs. These were inspected in detail.

Passing what appeared to be a simple wooded area near Carp, William said:

“There's a huge estate in there. That's where the Clintons would stay when the visited back when he was President. Someone leased it for a party a while back and I got to see it. Impressive.”

They turned around at Loon Point and began making their way back.

“Let's go into Summerland and eat at the Nugget”, said Jane. “They have chicken in a basket and that's my favorite food in the whole world.”

“What's chicken in a basket?” Asked Molly's father.

“Fried chicken with french fries. It comes in a plastic basket lined with a paper towel.”

“Oh”, said Molly's father.

And they all went to the Nugget and ordered Chicken in a Basket.

“Not bad”, said William. “I expected a festival of grease. Guess the paper towel takes care of that.”

“Yup”, said Jane. “That's why I like it.”

“Santa Barbara sure is a wonderful place”, said Molly's father. “Are you two sure you two can pack up and leave?”

“We plan to”, said Jane.

“Yeah, but I will miss the place. This is a pretty awesome place to live.” Molly added.

“When do you plan to make the move?”

“Well, we're going to save until summer and then start going up and looking for a place. Get a Realtor up North and start checking out the towns.”

“Have you ever thought about coming to Colorado?” Molly's father asked.

Molly and Jane looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

“No”, Jane said.

“It's expensive”, said Molly. “That's why we're going North, it's cheap up there. That and we can live in the country.”

“You wouldn't have to live in Avon”, said Molly's father. “But there are many, many nice little mountain towns that have what you are looking for. Some really beautiful places.”

“Reasonably priced?” Asked Jane.

“Yes, the Vail Valley, where I live, is probably one of the more expensive areas in the state. Why don't you two come out and check out the rest of the area? Stay for a month or so and travel around. I think we could find you a nice little coffee shop or hotel in a really nice place. I could help you out.”

“A hotel?” Asked Molly. “I don't think we could afford something like that.”

“I saw one between Leadville and Buena Vista that cost less than a tract home in Goleta”, her father replied. “It was a little rough, but it made money and could be fixed up.”

“I suppose we could come out”, said Jane. “What do you think Molly?”

“I'd have to get a leave of absence, but it's slow and I think I could get one.”

“And I could just quit”, said Jane. “The job sucks anyway. Just like all the others.”

“Make sure you get your Cobra if you do”, said Molly's father.

Molly flashed back on her image of the circus clown father who obsessed about the pet monkey, and then continued: “I never thought of a hotel. That would be a nice business. And we could put the coffee shop and wine bar in the hotel.”

“I think if the three of us threw in together we could pull it off”, said Molly's father. “I'd be a silent partner”.

“Actually”, said William. “I might be interested in something like that too. A small ownership interest in a nice little retreat in the mountains. I could be another silent partner. But make sure it's a place with a fireplace and a mountain view. Something really cozy.”

The party finished the meal and returned to the beach for the walk back. It was that magical evening beach time. It was still early enough in the year for the evening tide to be really low and the broad expanse of wet beach glowed golden in the setting sun. The lights were coming on in the lovely little houses of Fernald Point as the passed. Molly noted that you could always tell when people had real money as their windows were always spotless and glowing. Scrubbed to perfection by Hispanic house keepers. One of Barbara Streisand's producers lived here in a cute little beach cabana.

Both Molly and Jane were a bit stunned by the conversation in the restaurant. Getting out of their miserable jobs and relocating to the country was something they were sure they were going to do someday, but maybe not today. Not right now. And the offer to move right away was discombobulating to say the least. Molly noted how lovely the beach was in the evening and how she loved coming here to run. Jane had never lived anywhere save the central California coast and had no idea what Colorado would be like. Her one experience had been staying with Molly's father in Avon the Christmas before. A large house in a very glitzy, modern area. One without the funky retreats that allowed her and Molly to survive. The two fell back from William and Molly's father.

“So, are we going to Colorado?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, I think so”, Molly replied.

“Then I'm scared”, Jane said.

“Why? It's just a trip. Maybe for a month.”

“Can you get your job back?” Jane asked.

“I think so”, Molly said. “And we can live off my salary until you find something. Just not save anything for a month or so. So no big deal.”

Jane nodded. “So what do you know about Colorado?”

“My dad lives there”, Molly replied. “Not much else. But I guess we're going to learn.”

The next day at 1:00 PM Jane and Molly took Molly's father to the airport.

“You two are coming then. Huh?” He asked.

“We're going to buy tires right after we drop you off. Make an appointment for an oil change and to have the car checked out. I'm guessing two days for the drive.”

“I'd budget three. You don't get to drive cross country that often and you two should take your time and enjoy it. Maybe see the Grand Canyon or something.”

“We'll see. To be honest, I still have to figure the whole thing out. I haven't thought it through yet. But yeah, we should head out in a couple of days.”

“The roads should all be clear by then, but you can never be sure. Don't try and travel in a spring blizzard. Get a hotel. The snow will only be on the ground for a day or so this time of year. And don't kid yourself that you're good at driving in snow. You're not.”

“OK Ward”, Molly replied, her standard reply to an overly protective father.

They got the car back late the next afternoon. It had cost a hundred bucks for an alignment and two hundred and fifty for a tune up, which the guy at the garage promised would pay for itself in saved gas.

“I think we just got hosed”, said Jane as they left the garage. “We can figure out how much gas we were using going to work and compare that to what we use now.”

“Oh, I'm sure we got screwed”, Molly agreed. “But that's what guys do to women in garages.”

The rest of the afternoon and the next day were given over to washing clothing and packing. Several calls were placed to Molly's father to ascertain the weather to expect. Food was purchased to eat a rest stops, which would save money on restaurants. Campgrounds and public showers along the way were researched.

Pete showed up and stated that he had never really seen the Rockies and would like to ride along. Both Molly and Jane seriously considered saying yes, mostly for the gas money, until Nell showed up and announced that if Pete was going, she was going too. Four was just too many in the Ford Fiesta and the thought of the couple's bickering in the back seat of the tiny car for days on end curled the hair of both Jane and Molly.

A couple of hours later William showed up and announced that he would also like to ride along.

“Just you?” Asked Molly.

“Who else?” Asked William.

“Maybe Wilber or Pete”, noted Jane. “Pete's been fishing for a place in the car.”

“No, just me”, William assured them.

Molly and Jane looked at each other.

“Yeah, I guess so”, said Molly.

“But you have to be in the back seat for the whole time”, Jane added. “I'm not sitting back there.”

“Our packs will be back there too”, Molly cautioned. “But I guess you can stack those against one of the doors and have most of the seat.”

The departed the next morning at 9:00 AM. William traveled light because the trunk was already packed full and anything he brought would have to share the back seat with both him and the two back packs. Molly made him go back and get a sleeping bag and insolite pad, which they managed to cram into the already packed trunk.

The first leg of the trip really should have been through L.A., but Molly hated driving in L.A. and was loath to let anyone else drive her car there. So they turned up 126 at Ventura and cut across to the Pear Blossom Highway to Victorville, where they joined the 15 Freeway and began the journey to Las Vegas.

Entering the desert, William began to wax nostalgic about Hunter Thomson's “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”. He seemed to know most of the book by heart and took to describing portions from the back seat. He insisted that they stop in Barstow and purchase a bottle of Wild Turkey, the appropriate drink for re-tracing Hunter's steps. Within an hour, both he and Jane were quite drunk and pretending to fire .357 magnums out the car windows. A little while after that they went to sleep, and Molly was grateful they had no LSD or anything else stronger than Wild Turkey and a little weed.

They made Las Vegas in the late afternoon and Molly shuddered at the creepy city. Jane and William slept though the experience. She continued on to Lake Mead National Recreation area where she turned South to find the campgrounds.

“Why are we off the Freeway?” William asked in a groggy voice.

“To find the campground”, Molly answered.

“I don't want to sleep in the dirt.”

“We have a ground cover”, Molly said.

“But I'll still have to piss in the weeds”, William countered.

“So what do you want”, Molly asked.

“I want to camp in a place with room service”, William whined.

“That's probably the most nelly thing ever said in Lake Mead National Forest.”

“Just find a hotel”, said William.

“We don't have money for a hotel.”

“I do”, said William. “Just find one.”

Molly pulled into a huge, stucco Rodeway Inn. It looked like a very large, unadorned barn with many windows.

“Place looks like a whorehouse for truckers”, said William.

“It's this or a campground”, Molly replied.

“OK.”

William went in and secured a room with two queen beds.

In the morning, as she took a hot shower, Molly was glad they had got the room. They had the s****y continental breakfast offered by the hotel and were off.

“That sausage tasted like a double order of home fried cat's a******s”, said William they pulled away. “It's gonna to haunt my gut for a month.”

They continued on through Utah on 15 and planned to catch I-70 at Sulphurdale.

“I heard you have to buy whiskey from a pharmacy in Utah”, said William, somewhere around Leeds Utah. “Let's stop and get a bottle of Turkey and see how that works.”

“You guys have Turkey”, Molly replied.

“Not much left”, said William. “And besides, that's not the point. I want to see how you buy it in a pharmacy. Do we need a prescription for it?”

“How should I know.”

So they stopped for gas at the next small town and Molly asked a guy at the other gas pump where they could get a bottle of Wild Turkey Whiskey. The guy just looked at her like she was the devil incarnate. Jane led William forward.

“This man is obviously gay. We're thinking something macho like Wild Turkey might help him.”

William nodded. The guy seemed really confused and suspicious.

“We don't touch the stuff ourselves”, Molly assured him.

“The pharmacy is just down the road on the left.” The guys gas pump clicked and he quickly replaced the nozzle. He hopped in his truck and was gone.

They found the pharmacy, requested the bottle of booze and were directed to a window in the back.

They passed a rack of cute signs, a display of high end candy and a greeting card display to arrive at a shuttered hole in the wall, such as where one might fill prescriptions for narcotics. The shutters opened.

“My I help you”, a guy in a lab coat asked.

“Yes, we need a fifth of Wild Turkey. Do we need a prescription for that?” William asked.

“No”, the guy said, frowning to show his disapproval.

He rustled around and came back to the window with the bottle, which he hammered down on the counter with a loud bang.

“Thanks”, said William, taking the bottle. The guy said nothing and merely glowered at the party. The woman at the cash register in the front also glowered at them. And, after inspecting William's drivers license, she asked William to sign a paper that signified he had taken the bottle.

“Is that legal?” William asked.

“If you don't sign, we don't sell it to you.”

William wrote, “I William of Santa Barbara California do hereby take this bottle of Wild Turkey”.

The woman inspected the note and then took his money.

Back in the car, William said: “I would recommend that those people all drink one of these bottles, then smoke a doob, then dose with ecstasy and then jump naked into a jacuzzi with a bunch of people they don't know. Would do them a world of good.”

Jane and William enjoyed victory shots from the bottle as they turned onto I-70 and continued on into Colorado.

Western Colorado along I-70 was disappointing to them. Mostly dry, rocky hills. Things didn't really get interesting until the reached Edwards and entered the Vail Valley. They left the freeway and traveled down Highway 6 so William could see the area. New condos, affluent shopping centers and luxury new homes.

“Thousand Oaks in the 1980's”, said Willaim.

“Or Newport Beach back in the day”, Molly replied. “I hope it doesn't go that way, high rises and all. But this is sort of nice. Expensive, but nice.”

The came to Avon with the Westin Hotel Gondola that traveled over the highway and up to the Beaver Creek ski area. Something that Molly found magical.

“Look! You can get to the ski area from the Westin lobby”, she pointed out to William.

Molly exited the Highway at the round about and traveled through town to her fathers home. A large split level slightly above the town. Molly's father was there to greet them.

“Hello”, said Molly, exiting the car. “We brought William. But it's OK. He traveled halfway across the country with us and never tried to ravish us.”

“A true gentleman”, her father replied.

“No, just gay”, said William as he crawled and wiggled from the back seat.

Molly wanted to slap William, but saw her dad was laughing.

That night they went to dinner at Montauk, an elegant seafood restaurant in Lionshead, one of the two main town centers of Vail, and accessed by taking the center town exit from I-70.

Vail was about ten miles East of Avon and it took about fifteen minutes to get there. As they closed in on the center town exit Molly told her father to continue on down to the Village exit. She wanted William to see how the Divide rose above the freeway. One of the most spectacular mountain scenes Molly had seen so far.

“That is impressive”, said William, gazing at the still snow covered range in the setting sunlight.

“You guys want to eat in the Village”, asked Molly's father. That's were the bar action is. There's only enough locals around this time of year to fill a bar or two and they like the Village.”

“Nah”, said Molly. “Let's try the seafood place. It sounds good and you've talked about it before.”

The took the Village exit, went under the bridge and then headed west on I-70, back to the center town exit. They parked in the Lionshead Parking structure, took the elevator down and crossed the street to the big entry gate. The big plaza was empty, literally something out of “Up From the Beach”. Most of the stores were closed.

“It's a ghost town”, said Jane.

“It is during mud season”, Molly's father replied. “But when the resort is open it would be hard to walk here. The bus stop over there would have a hundred people in it.”

Montauk was across the plaza where some lovely, large ironwork arches marked the walkway. They arrived at Montauk and it was apparent that Molly's father knew everyone in the place. The bartenders, the wait staff and most of the patrons.

“Hi Bjorn”, said someone from the corner. “Hospital still in business?”

“Yup”, her father replied.

“Well then I might come over and have my tonsils out.”

“Anytime” replied Molly's father.

They were seated and the owner came out to greet the group.

“So these are you lovely daughters”, he said.

“Yes”, her father replied. “And this is there friend William”.

“Hi William. And you are?”, he said pointing at Molly.

“Molly.”

“And you?”

“Jane.”

“Well, the waiter will get the menus over here in a sec. I've got to get back to the kitchen. Try the Mahi if you can.”

And with this he was off. It was not lost on Molly that her father had let the mistake about Jane's status remain in place. She debated raising the issue immediately, but decided to save it for later. Later she would not pop off and scream as she felt like doing now.

Wine was the first thing ordered. An excellent Chardonnay served in large glasses. The types of glasses for people who stayed in the nearby hotels and didn't have to drive home. Glasses meant to impress the well heeled patrons. Molly, Jane and William were half bombed after the first two.

“A very elegant place Mr. Peterson”, William said. “I'm a Joe's person myself and rarely get out into the really elegant Santa Barbara digs.”

“It's one of the top restaurants in Vail”, but I doubt if I would come here unless I got the locals discount. Everyone in here now lives around here and none of them are paying menu prices. Samuel, the owner, is good about that. He also lets the kids who work on the mountain eat here for basically the cost of the food, if the place isn't busy. Those kids make twelve or fifteen bucks an hour and normally wouldn't get to try a place like this.”

After dinner they walked the other way around the square and Molly's father showed them some of the public artworks. The “Rock Carvings” of skiers in the building walls, which were actually artfully molded concrete. And a colorful poll in the center of a square with panels sticking out like street signs. Various winter and summer Colorado scenes had been sculpted in the metal and brightly painted. The floor of the square was cobbled with the pattern seen in the streets of Paris.

They returned to the house and were shown to their rooms. After everyone was settled in, Molly made her way to the kitchen where she found her father sitting at an alcove table.

As she approached, he began: “I'm sorry for denying you guys tonight. I feel really bad about it. It was just complicated and I didn't feel like getting into it for some reason.”

“It made me feel really bad”, said Molly. “Are you ashamed of us?”

“I knew you would think that and that's why I couldn't sleep. But no, I'm not. I suppose I'm just getting used to everything.”

Molly was silent.

“We'll go back and announce your bonding on Saturday. Everyone will be there. I don't want you to feel this way.”

“It hurt me”, said Molly.

“Yes, I made a mistake and I'll try to correct it. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes”, said Molly. “It's kind of tough for all of us. Mom has kind of disowned me.”

“Oh, my God”, said her father.

“Yeah”, said Molly. “And I can't reach her to talk about it.”

“Well, we have each other”, her father replied.

“Yes, we do. And that means a lot. And we don't need to go back and make an announcement.”

And with this, Molly left and went back to her room.

The next day they met with a financial consultant who worked with Molly's father and he helped the fill out the paperwork for an SBA loan. One for a woman owned business. They would finish the task when the business was located and a business plan had been drawn up.

A couple of days later they met with the Realtor who had sold Molly's father his house in the Vail Valley. Her name was Monica Metz and she was about the same age as Molly, but much more formally dressed.

Molly's father began: “These two are looking to get out of their jobs in California. They need something that they can build up and that can support them. They're thinking about a wine bar and coffee shop or a small hotel.”

“And I assume you want to the property along with the business”, Monica replied.

“Yes”, said Molly's father.

“Well, there's really no such thing as a wine bar in Colorado”, Monica replied. “That sort of license doesn't exist here. So it's either a full fledged bar or a coffee shop without alcohol. And the liquor license is always a problem. Not an easy thing to handle. But if you have a bed a breakfast, the licenses are easy and you can give wine an beer away to the guests, not sell it, but give it away. And maybe get

the cost back on the price of he room.”

“I think I'd prefer to look into a small hotel or B and B first anyway”, said Molly. “That seems to have a better chance at an assured income. Who knows if someone is going to visit your coffee shop or not?”

Jane nodded.

Monica was able to run a state wide search and a day later she had the results. The most promising, according to her father, was in Nederland Colorado.

“You two like Big Sur, so you'll really like Nederland”, he chuckled. “It's a bohemian civilization that puts Big Sur to shame.”

“Where is it?” Asked Jane.

“It's a mountain town above Boulder. Where CU is. Another town you two would like.”

The next day the four of them made the two hour drive down I-70 to Idaho Springs and then up 119 through Central City, Black Hawk and Rollinsville to Nederland. Molly's father had Molly stop and park in Central City so that they could get out and walk around.

“It looks like a movie set”, said Jane, gazing at the 19^th Century street.

“Do they have cowboys come out and have fake gun fights for the tourists?” Molly asked.

“Sometimes”, her father replied. “But this is all real. The town kind of got abandoned after the mining played out, but somehow the buildings survived. When gambling was legalized a few years back, the town was restored.”

Molly and Jane were disappointed that the picturesque town offered little more than garish casinos. Store fronts not devoted to gambling were closed.

“When they legalized gambling, all of the property owners got their properties cleared for gambling”, Molly's father explained. “ They thought they'd make a mint. But having the property cleared for gambling means the owner has to pay a gaming tax. And it's high enough to make the building too expensive to be anything but a casino. A regular store can't cut it. So the town is sort of sterile. One liquor store, one pot shop and one mini-market. And about a hundred empty casinos. Some summer day we'll go up to Estes Park and I'll show you what a small town with a tourist industry really looks like.”

They cruised North through the pleasant mountain country. Just before Rollinsville was a spectacular view of the Divide. And just after the small town was a classic mountain lake framed by a peak Molly would learn was Bald Mountain. They dropped down into Nederland and met Monica Metz at the Mountain People's CO-OP. She was sitting on the porch when they arrived. They joined her and ordered coffee and scones.

“This is one of the nice features of Ned”, she said. “The city owns the co-op. It's sort of a Whole Foods, natural foods store, but it's affordable. If you're a member, you work here a couple of days per month and get 30% off of everything. Why don't you go inside and look around?”

The two entered the store and saw a woman about their own age, with long dread locks, behind the counter. The two moved around the country store and saw high quality produce and products, everything but a meat department. Monica was right, it resembled Whole Foods.

“This is a really nice place”, Jane whispered. “I like this town.”

“I do too”, said Molly.

They took took Monica's larger car to the hotel. It was located back on the road from where they came. Up a series of switch backs to a higher section of country. It was called the “Mountain Sun Inn” and had a restaurant attached. A restaurant with a large deck from which the surrounding peaks could be seen. The runs on the nearby Eldora Ski Area seemed to spell out the words, “I HID” on the side of he mountain. Inside the restaurant, above the windows, a mural of the peaks had been and painted and the name of each peak was indicated.

The hotel itself was old and funky. Mostly unpainted barn wood. But this was a calculated effect and the hotel otherwise appeared very well cared for. There were eight rooms, an office and a small owner's apartment behind the office.

Molly and Jane instantly fell in love with the place and resolved to spend the rest of their lives there.

“Here's your cozy mountain retreat”, Molly said to William.

“Yes, but one room simply must be outfitted with a Franklin Stove”, William replied. “So that I can sit by the fire and watch the sun go down over the peaks.”

Molly and Jane nodded.

After they had turned the Fiesta back to Avon, Molly said, “This is it dad. Jane and I want it. It's perfect and the town in perfect.”

“But it doesn't pencil out very well”, her father replied. “It's expensive and it only has eight rooms. The restaurant makes money, but someone owns the business there. And they will for at least five more years. They would just be paying rent to you. But it's sort of a rich man's toy. A landmark to brag about owning, but not really that much of a business.”

“Dadddddd!”, shouted Molly, her standard expression of frustration with her father since she was five or six years old.

“There's a lot of property in Colorado, so we don't have to buy the first thing we look at. And that place is going to be on the market for a long time.”

Molly and Jane dreamed of the Nederland hotel all the way back to Avon.

They looked at Victorian Bed and Breakfasts in Leadville, Small hotels and B and B's in Buena Vista and Salida. And summer hotels high in the mountains, in tiny towns such as Elmo. They even made it to Estes Park, another place Molly and Jane fell in love with, but they recoiled at the prices there.

They finally found a candidate in the lovely little town of Twin Lakes. Located right at the base of a flank of 14,000 foot Mt. Massive and on the edge of two lovely, large mountain lakes. Lakes from which the town took it's name. The property consisted of eight cabins ranging in size from two bedrooms to studios. Some had fireplaces. The view from the roadside, facing towards Aspen, was impressive, a peak rising thousands of feet above them.

The cabins dated from the 1950's and were made of milled logs. They were dispersed around a large yard and carts had to be used to haul supplies to three of them. Out front there was a cabin that served as an office with an owner's apartment in back. A very large studio with a kitchenette at one end. The town itself consisted of three square blocks of houses. Lovely Victorians and log cabins mixed in with the more modern homes. There was one general store, open only in the summer. The nearest commercial centers were Leadville, about twenty miles away, and Aspen, about thirty miles over Independence Pass.

The price was right and the odds of appreciation very high.

“There are very few reasonably priced places like this left in Colorado”, said Molly's father. “Not with this scenery and the lakes. And this close to Aspen. This will be a very elegant area very soon. If I were you two, I would think long hard about this one.”

“I'm in”, said William. “This is a wonderful, little cozy place. It's what I imagined. And your dad's right. You don't usually find property in a spectacular place like this that you can afford.”

Molly and Jane wandered the town. They wanted a small town in the country, but this was a really small town. And smaller still because most of the homes were not even occupied, they served as summer vacation homes for people in Denver. Besides the store, there were a couple of bars in a couple of other hotels, and that was about it. And like the store, these were not open in the winter.

They crossed the road at the visitor's center, a large two story log cabin that had once been the Red Robin Saloon, a notorious brothel frequented by the miners back in the 1880's. They followed a path a few hundred yards up to a lookout point.

“Oh, my God!” Said Molly. “Look at that! I've never seen anything like this before. Have you?”

“No”, Jane replied. “I don't know what to say. This is amazing. Spectacular.”

The peaks in the mountain range before them all averaged over 14,000 feet. The lower slopes were covered with aspen that had only just budded leaves the week prior. They glowed bright green in the afternoon sun. The peaks above the tree line still had a great deal of snow on them, with the grey rocks poking through. And there were pine forests with millions of trees. You could see for miles from here. There was a canyon between two of the peaks that looked like it could be hiked. The two stood there holding hands for a long time, transfixed by the view. The full force of the Rockies.

“This is a good place”, Jane finally said.

“Yeah, it is. This will be a good home for us.”

Pete, Suzanne and Bob

Pete had known Suzanne for at least a decade. She had been roommates with Nell and him in Isla Vista, back when they all had attended UCSB. And Pete had a quirk that he didn't like strange women, or at least he didn't mix well with them. 

Molly had grown frustrated with this oddity when she would bring over friends to introduce to Pete when his current separation from Nell seemed permanent. Pete would be completely uninterested and would, for the most party, simply ignore the women. At worst, he would pick them apart over some trivial matter, saying he didn't like the way they dressed or talked. He'd once complained that a prospect's car was too big.

And when Molly and Jane packed up and moved to Colorado, Pete wanted his own person in that side of the duplex. The walls were thin, they shared the small yard and porch and there was little privacy. He wanted someone he knew, but not Nell. And this was no problem as she now had her trailer and would not move out of that for anything. He finally convinced Suzanne to abandon her swanky apartment over in Goleta and to take the duplex. He argued it's low cost and pleasant vegetation.

So Suzanne moved in with her little boy and she and Pete began a pleasant domestic life. The little boy was the result of Suzanne's impulsive pregnancy after one of her friends had a baby. Some guy she met in a bar and who didn't know the kid existed. But Pete liked the kid, so all was fine.

Suzanne worked as a contract software engineer and made even more than Pete and Nell, although there was no guarantee of another job after each six to nine month assignment ended. And they paid cheap rent. So there was plenty of money to go around and little to worry about. Suzanne knew that if she ever had trouble finding a new assignment, Pete was there and he would help her.

She and Pete had been lovers long ago, and they two soon began doing the “friends with privileges” thing once in a while.

But things probably would have ended here, with two friends living next door to each other, and with just a little bit of hanky-panky now and then, had not other outside events come forward.

First, Nell had decided to take a long vacation from Pete. She often did this, but this one lasted a little longer than usual. Most of the sympathy and nurturing Nell required had come from Molly. And Pete was a bit cold towards Nell, explaining to Molly that after ten years of Nell's bullshit he was tired of it. Molly had served as a sort of referee that kept the relationship alive. And when Molly left, things went off the rails.

Nell had put on a horrible, drunken screaming attack in Pete's half of the duplex. To the point that Pete handed her his sleeping bag and told her to go sleep on the floor in Molly's now empty half of the property. And this made matters worse as the old duplex still smelled like Molly and Jane lived there, but they were long gone. Nell was flooded with memories of her old friends and felt more lonely than ever in the now empty duplex.

But she was the one that had always come crawling back after these types of incidents, and she resolved not to to do it this time. To teach Pete a lesson. To find out if Pete really cared or not. She had no intention of ending the relationship, she simply wanted a little leverage to fix what she saw as problems with it. And she didn't have Molly around to tell her that this might be a dumb idea.

Then Beatnik Bob got laid off from his job in Canoga Park, a hot, dry sea of dismal condos and sleazy apartment buildings in the San Fernando Valley. Bob was a slightly overweight, slightly unkept character who loathed his life as an aerospace engineer almost as much as he loathed the San Fernando Valley. And he was dropped from his job for the same reasons that Nell would soon be dropped from hers. Peace with Russian was making weapon's research less important.

And for all his freedom talk and bohemian ways, Bob was actually a responsible character. He hated his job but would never quit it. He realized he could never make the money he made there anywhere else, and he planned to set himself up somewhere in a proper manner. And he cared about his parents, who were very proud of their son and bored almost everyone they knew with stories of his success in Southern California.

But to lose the hated job through no fault of your own? To be kicked out the door, on your a*s, without a word of say so in it? Hey, that was different. That was cool. And Bob felt a great sense of joy the first Monday he didn't have to show up at that hell hole and do his miserable job. He got drunk and chased women for a week before he finally settled on a plan. As there were no engineering jobs for him, so he would return to UCSB and study something he liked, and then work in a field he liked, even if it didn't make as much money as he made the week prior. He showed up at Pete's door the second Saturday after his layoff.

“Doob man, what's up?” Said Bob as a greeting, stepping from his filthy Mustang. A car full of burrito wrappers and paper coffee cups that he was famous for. Almost a part of his personality.

“You up for the weekend?”, asked Pete asked from the duplex's tiny porch.

“Hell no, I'm up for good. Lost that s****y job last week and I'm free.” With this Bob spread his arms and resembled a sort of sojourner from a motorcycle gang. Both his black beard and long hair had grown since his last visit and his denim jacket was dirtier and more frayed.

“Lay offs starting down there? That was my great hope. If stuff went to hell up here, before I starved, I'd go back to the Valley and get a job.”

“Well, if I were you, I'd try eating out dumpsters first. But that's just me. And besides, there isn't any hiring down there now. Everyone is getting laid off.””

“You seem happy” said Pete.

“I am. I hated that miserable f*****g job. But I could never decide to give it up. So they made up my mind for me. I told my mom and she cried. But now she thinks I'm a victim and not a bum. She would have thought I was a bum if I just quit. So it's all good.”

“Any idea what you might do?”

“Yeah, maybe be a bum. Check out the wino life for a while. Winos can live anywhere they want. So I'll finally get to live in a nice place.”

“There's a lot of competition for that around here. Especially down by the beach.”

“Nah, actually I'm going back to UCSB. Maybe study Oceanography. Learn to scuba dive.”

“You accepted for a grad program?”

“Nah, but I know I can get in as an undergrad and then bump up. I need to do some undergrad anyway. Get my core biology and chem courses.”

Mounting the porch he said, “That's what I came by to talk to you about. I'm wondering if I can stay here until I can get settled into my own place. I have unemployment and my severance package, but money's still tight, and my loans won't kick in until class starts this fall. But I can still catch half the rent.”

“Sure”, said Pete.

Bob had done the same for Pete down and the valley. And he liked having Bob around anyway, a person who made acidly hilarious remarks about people Pete disliked, engineers, managers, cops, rapture monkeys, etc. And Bob was a person who was usually up for almost anything.

“Bang some acid and drink a case of beer?”

"Why not?”

“Mescaline, Wild Turkey and Crank?”

“Yeah, if the shrooms are decent.”

“Get naked and set the lawn on fire?”

“Let me move my car first.”

In addition, Bob was no trouble. He only ate in restaurants and would quietly come home and crash on the living room floor. He wouldn't even disturb the back bedroom to use the toilet, preferring piss off the front porch rather than pass through rooms where people were sleeping.

Suzanne came back about six and set her two year old down to run about the yard. Pete and Bob came out of Pete's side of he duplex.

“Hey, you remember Bob”, said Pete.

“Yeah, I met you over at Rod's place. Bob, you remember, that old guy up on the hill that used to be a professor.”

“I remember. Hey, why don't we go hit that bar for a happy hour. I liked that old guy.”

“Rod told me not to bring the kid in”, Suzanne replied. “He runs around and bothers people.”

“Well you can go Pete. Can't you?”

“Yeah, I haven't been in a while. Let's go read some poetry.”

With this Bob and Pete piled into the Mustang and began pulling away from the curb.

“I'll be back in hour or two”, Pete called back to Suzanne in the porch.

They actually got back a little after 10:00 PM. Pete wasn't driving and he was pretty much blasted drunk. His eyes got squinty when he was in this state and Suzanne could see it. Bob, who was driving, seemed OK but he was rapidly using a pint of Wild Turkey to catch up.

“Turkey anyone?” Bob offered.

“No”, said Suzanne.

“I might have one”, said Pete, and then after a long pull on the bottle, “Whew, that burns”.

Pete didn't come over that night to watch TV or play friends with privileges. She could hear Pete and Bob laughing that “Har, har, har”, guy laugh for most of the night through the wall. Suzanne decided she didn't much like Bob, but decided to give it a chance as he was Pete's friend and Pete hadn't seen him in a while.

What clinched it was Bob's womanizing. Sue had always admired Pete because he didn't chase women. He had a few, choice female friends, such as Nell and her, that he had known for years. They all thought the world of him and would have been grateful to pair up if Nell ever completely blew it.

But Bob was different. Sloppy as he was, he somehow managed to attract scores of women. Most were nice looking and not very bright. He had a different girlfriend every couple of weeks. How he did this was no secret, and he had explained it to many a lonely guy just to watch his words go in one ear and out the other:

“Talk about them and don't talk about you, and make them laugh. That's all you have to do.” He would explain time and time again.

But Suzanne resented this, ahem, hobby of Bob's. She couldn't really articulate why, but she did resent it. In her more perceptive moments she felt that Bob didn't really give a damn about her, or about any other woman All could be easily replaced. And in many ways she was correct in this opinion. She began to compete with Bob for Pete's attention, taking him into her side of the duplex before Bob could convince him to set out on a tear about town.

But school started and Bob was no longer around. He was in class and on campus most of the day and in the library most of the night. He took diving lessons on Saturdays. He cleaned up his act and now only got really drunk a couple of times per month. Usually with Pete. The only danger Suzanne now felt was Bob's attempt to talk Pete into taking diving lessons with him.

“No, it's really great”, said Bob. “We go down about fifty feet off Goleta and it's a regular forest down there man. Stuff you never saw before. And there's abalone and lobsters that you can just scoop up with your hands. And that's all I've ever seen. People tell me there's places out there that make Goleta look boring.”

Bob would bring home abalone which he and Pete would BBQ. Cut it into little cubes,wrap each with a piece of bacon and toss it on the grill. Suzanne caught Pete with a catalog of diving equipment.

“Pete, don't get into that. Bob is gone on that boat for three or four days sometimes. And we don't see much of each other as it is.”

“Bob is studying marine biology and those trips are his classes. If you just want to go out, you can do it on a Saturday afternoon and then come back. Why don't you take the class too?”

“Because I have a kid to watch and I can't be gone all weekend every weekend. I want you to stay here with me.”

But all was well until Bob got his certification and finished his first semester. He then applied for, and got, a job as a diver on the oil rigs. A job that paid all the money in the world. Bob figured he could graduate debt free if he worked on the rigs alternate semesters. And this would give him a tremendous number of undersea hours and diving expertise.

He rented Jane's little cottage behind the duplex. He didn't need much space as he was gone most of the time, and being in the cottage let him hang out with Pete when he was around. He was now out on the rigs for ten days and then home for five. And Pete and Bob raised hell when he was home. Bob wasn't pinched for money anymore and he bought a Harley so he and Pete could cut around the mountains together. Pete on his old hard tail and Bob on the new eighty incher. The two would ride all day and then drink all night. Trips out of town to Big Sur were common.

But what really ended Nell's relationship with Pete was Pete's layoff. Suzanne was primed to move out of town to get Pete away from Bob, and Pete losing his job provided the means. 

One day Pete came home from work early, about 1:00 PM. He looked stunned and was more serious than Bob had ever seen him. After a short and unenthusiastic greeting he entered Suzanne's half of the duplex.

Surprisingly, it was Suzanne who came over to talk to him on the porch of his U-Haul sized house. Usually, she wouldn't even go in the back yard for fear of seeing him.

“Pete's really broken up”, she said. “He got laid off from his job today.”

“That was the happiest day of my life”, said Bob.

“Well, it's different for him. He was really proud to be working in that consulting firm, and not some s****y engineering shop like Delco or SBRC.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

“And it all came without any warning. He said he thought he had the world by the tail when he went in this morning, and then they called him in after lunch and canned him.”

“Wow. That would hurt. I knew my time was coming, and I got used that, and after that I couldn't wait for the ax to fall.”

“Keep this secret and don't tell him I told you, but he was the only one to get laid off. There are eight of them there and he was the only one. It's like they had to can somebody and Pete thinks they picked the least valuable person. Him.”

“OK, I won't say anything, but you should tell him this, he's just the first person to get it. Today. Who knows what's going to happen next week? And second, if you have eight people, and they're all pretty much the same at their work, they use different criteria to pick the victim. Like who has kids, who has a mortgage. Stuff like that. And Pete's single, with no debt, no kids and money in the bank. He's a prime target. So getting the ax doesn't mean he's the least valuable, it might mean that he looks like the most able to survive it.”

“I didn't think of that. I'll tell him.”

Pete had bucked himself back up by the next day and stopped by Bob's cottage.

“Welp, I'm joining you brother. I'm out on my a*s. 'Cept I didn't really hate my job.”

“Yeah, Suzanne told me.”

“My big fear is that I'll have to leave SB. I grew up here and really like it.”

“Yeah, it is a bit of paradise, but there's lots of other places in the world and lots of other jobs. I really like what I do now, getting laid off was a godsend for me. I'm so busy and happy that sometimes I even forget to get drunk. And if you have to leave here, it doesn't mean you have to go back to the valley. You're always talking about Oregon, why don't we gas up the bikes and head up and take a look on my next off period? Hell, I might move up too.”

“I think I'm going to go up with Suzanne. Her contract is just about over and she'll be out of work too. Might be better to look for a job up there. She does software for banks and stuff and they're not going down like aerospace. Might give us a foothold.”

And in this time of crises, Nell was forgotten and Suzanne and Pete became a true couple, supporting each other in the bad times. Bob paid two months rent on Pete's duplex, explaining the situation to the landlady and telling her to say she was waiving the rent because Pete was having trouble and he'd always been a good tenant. Bob knew that Pete would never take the money from him.

Some weeks later Pete and Suzanne had a big yard sale. Almost all of their furniture sat outside.

Bob approached, “Are you guys moving?”

“Yup, we're going up to find a place”, said Pete. “We're starting North of Fort Brag and working our way up to Washington. There ought to be something up there for us. Can you keep my bike? I'll come back for it when I get settled.”

“Sure, there's plenty of space in the garage. Not taking a lot?”

“No, just a stereo and a TV, and some pots and pans. Our clothes and camping gear. We figure we might be on the road for months.”

Six months later Bob got a call from Pete. He and Suzanne were living on Whidbey Island in Washington State. Just a little South of Langly. Suzanne was working for a bank near Everett, but as a regular employee and not as a contract worker. And Pete had landed a really good gig with a forestry company, one that let him spend a lot of time in the woods. They were renting a nice little house at the end of a dirt road. You could see the ocean from some of the windows. They planned to try to buy it from the owner soon. The kid was doing well. Pete said he'd be down to get his bike next summer and the two of them should ride up together.

Bob was in class now and he'd be working on the rigs next summer, and it would be hard to get away, but maybe if he explained everything to his boss he could get a couple of weeks.

The Diggers

The hotel at Twin Lakes was purchased, a complicated months long affair involving SBA loans, business plans, carrying arrangements with the old owners and license transfers. Molly and Jane worked with the old owners for two months learning how to clean rooms, keep the books and run the booking software. They learned where the water shutoffs for the cabins were and how to purge the lines to shut them down for the winter, so that they could be left without heat.

Molly and Jane were owned one share of the hotel and were the general managers. Her father and William each owned two shares and operated as silent partners.

And because they were owner managers, Molly and Jane didn't get salaries for running the hotel. They got a share of the profits. Which meant that a lot of the time they got nothing. Especially in mid-winter when the pass closed and blocked access to Aspen. But the two were relatively adept at living without money, having done so for most of their adult lives.

They had named the hotel the Mountain Spirit Lodge and had carefully painted a sign to hang over the office entrance.

And life at the lodge suited them. There was little walk in traffic, mostly people who loved the lodge, loved to hunt and fish and who returned year after year. They would make reservations months in advance and by mid April the summer and fall would be booked solid. Most of the day to day work then involved prepping rooms for the incoming guests, which Molly and Jane found to be a back breaking and dirty job. One which they hated passionately.

So they were quite receptive when two young women wandered in one morning asking if the hotel needed chambermaids, and wanting to fill out job applications. They had cleaned short term rental housing in Crested Butte, cleaned hotels in Breckenridge and worked at the Little Nell in Aspen. Living in ski towns and supporting themselves with the hotel work.

Jane got their names and numbers and, after a short meeting with Molly, both gladly gave up a portion of their income to get out of the hated job of cleaning rooms. They conned William and Molly's father into chipping in, convincing them that full time chambermaids were needed.

The two women were Kylie and Joanie, two cute twenty somethings who smoked a lot of pot, had massive dreadlocks and talked constantly about moving to Steamboat Springs, the last Colorado ski town where they could rent an apartment on a chambermaid's salary.

But Kylie and Joanie stayed on and never went to Steamboat, because life at the lodge suited them as well. Molly and Jane allowed them to live in a barn, and they had hung blankets and sheets obtained from a thrift store to mark out a nice apartment. The bathroom was back by the washing machines, so they had to cross the cold barn to pee at night. But they paid no rent for the arrangement and so they lived rather well on their meager income.

Besides Aspen, the other town in the region was Leadville. The two towns were polar opposites. Aspen being a playground for the glitterati, with four stores selling fur coats, and only one grocery store. While Leadville was a Victorian mountain town with many semi-abandoned and decaying buildings. A town that had been left to rot by the miners in the mid 20^th Century and which had been resettled by hippies in the early 1970's.

Some of the hippies were a group out of San Francisco known as Diggers. These were street theater types who also fed people in Golden Gate Park on a regular basis. They belonged to a somewhat formal organization, although not a lot is known about it now. And upon arriving in Colorado, they had children. And these children then grew up and had children. And these children grew up and befriended Moly, Jane, Kylie and Joanie.

Molly found them first. After the first few months at the lodge, Molly figured out that she was not needed in the office for a full day. She could compete here work there in the morning and then leave, just taking her cell phone and record book with her. She'd heard about a free lunch program in Leadville and went to investigate.

The lunches were served at Saint Paul's Methodist Church. A large, mostly unpainted, wooden church that dated from 1880 and which rarely held church services. Entering the church at 11:30 AM, Molly found a pleasant restaurant area. Trays of food were lined against one wall cafeteria style. Coffee was available and a table in the corner held desserts. It looked like a commercial establishment.

A woman entered from the kitchen area.

“First time here?” She asked.

Molly nodded.

“Just get a dish from the stack and then go through the line and get what you want.”

Molly complied and noticed that the food was actually very good. Some sort of hamburger dish, chicken and several elaborate dishes of potatoes, rice and vegetables. A choice of several types and salads and many different pies and cakes for dessert. Molly made a selection and sat at an empty table. Another patron finished the line and joined her at the table. Apparently, it was the custom for people here to take any seat available.

“Hi, I'm George”, he said. He was very pleasant. He said he worked for the city and cared for the Mineral Belt Trail, a cross country skiing trail that circumvented the town of Leadville. He was from Canada and, although about fifty years old, he had a Mohawk haircut. It made him look interesting.

“The church does a really good job”, said Molly.

“The church is part of it”, said George. “But the group was doing this before they got the church. They were in a building downtown.”

“Who are they?” Molly asked.

“Just a bunch of people who serve free lunch”, George replied. “Did you see the free store? They've been doing that for years too.”

After lunch, Molly inspected the free store. It was a room that resembled a thrift store and was mostly given over to baby clothing.

A woman entered and explained.

“People can take the baby clothes they need and then wash them and bring them back when the kid out grows them. And get new ones that fit. We do coats and boots too. We're getting some nice donations of new stuff that's a couple of years out of style. So we usually have good coats for everyone. Also hats and gloves.”

“Thanks”, said Molly, “But I'm OK with coats for now. My dad gets me one every Christmas. It's his favorite present.”

“Do you need socks?” The woman asked.

“Actually, I could use a new pair of socks.”

From under the counter the woman produced a large box with hundreds of pairs of new socks in it. Molly selected an understated pair of black socks.

“You're allowed to take two pair”, said the woman.

“I only need one”, Molly replied.

“That's the spirit”, said the woman, as she replaced the box under the counter. She then added: “We also have a food bank. Have you seen that?”

“No”, Molly replied.

“In here”, said the woman, leading Molly to another room, a room lined with metal shelves holding canned goods. There were boxes of potatoes on the floor and two large refrigerators against the wall.

“You can take two two things from each shelf on the wall, and each shelf in each 'fridge once per month. Three pounds of potatoes per week. Most of the food is about to expire, or maybe has already expired. That's why the stores donate it. Some of it comes from the county food bank too.”

There was canned soup, rice and canned vegetables on the shelves of the room. Molly saw that one shelf held high quality canned salmon and tuna. The refrigerators held yogurt, bread, milk and eggs.

“How do you do this?” Molly asked.

“We're good at getting donations”, said the woman. “We're plugged in with just about every store in Summit, Lake and Chaffee Counties. People make runs in their cars every day picking up stuff.”

Molly was fascinated by the operation and began coming in every weekday for the lunch. She saw that, by and large, the regulars were seasonal workers in the ski and rafting industry, and perhaps people who simply loved living in the High Rockies and were content to just get by. A few old hippies and unemployed construction workers were also tossed into the mix.

Molly wanted to volunteer. Especially after the many free lunches and after taking a few items from the store and food bank. But she was surprised to find that her offer of volunteer work was met with little enthusiasm. Not much help was needed.

A group of construction workers who had been regularly eating lunch, and felt they needed to do something to pay for it, were told to take the garbage out to the bins that would be fed to the pigs. Nothing beyond that. Molly was given a few dish washing details, but felt she was mostly just in the way. The kitchen had a rhythm to it that volunteers from the outside disrupted.

Molly's first real chance to do something useful for the group came when the game warden delivered an elk. An elk that had been poached and intercepted by the game warden. It lay on a low, flat bed trailer out behind the church. Several large beer coolers had been placed nearby.

Greg was an old ski racer who had hit a tree, or hit something, he couldn't really remember what, but he had lost the used of his left arm after the accident. After several years he realized that it wasn't coming back and agreed to have it amputated.

“Can you help butcher the elk”, Greg asked Molly.

“I don't know how. But I could try.”

“It's not hard. I just can't do it with one arm.”

Another helper was rounded up and the work began. The elk had been hung up and gutted the night before, but still needed to be skinned. Molly and the other helper, would pull the skin back as hard as they could while Greg welded a knife with his one good had and cut the white membrane that held the skin to the muscle. They got the skin off one side and then turned the elk over and did the other. Molly had considered saving and processing the skin, but it was torn and shredded.

Molly was then shown how to butcher the front legs of the elk and she began to work, placing the meat in one of the beer coolers as it came off. It took them about an hour and a half to finish the exposed half of the elk. They then turned it over.

About this time a Hispanic guy showed up. He was whetting a knife on a sharpening steel. He didn't speak a lot of English, but after a minute or so the group understood that he was telling them to get out of his way. He then finished off the second half of the elk, by himself, in about fifteen minutes. He obviously knew what he was doing. The group pulled the now full beer coolers into the refrigerator and Molly washed up. Elk was then featured on the lunch menu for many weeks thereafter. The people loved it.

After her work on the elk, Molly found that Shannon, the woman who seemed to run the show, was less standoffish and a little more approachable. Molly was officially given the job of going to meet with the manager of the Silverthorne Target store each Monday, to load up and return anything he would give them. Usually produce, but sometimes some clothing or other dry goods. She also washed dishes after the Friday lunch, and after a few weeks grew to appreciate the territoriality she had felt when she first came. She would not have been happy to arrive and see someone else doing her job.

Molly began bringing Kylie and Joanie to the lunches. Even though they both made an industry standard hourly wage, and they usually worked forty hour weeks, and they paid no rent, the were often destitute. The local bars, the pot shop and ski equipment ate a lot of their money. They knew most of the rafting and ski hill employees at the lunch, being in the same age group, and they found the food bank to be a great resource. One that freed up even more funds for booze, pot and ski equipment. They soon had jobs taking down the chairs and sweeping the dining room after the lunches.

Molly became better acquainted with Shannon. She was about fifty and very Celtic looking. Hints of freckles and long, thick, wavy red hair to her waist. She ran a yoga studio up the street and lived there with a guy named Robert, who rarely came around. She had a daughter who was studying acupuncture.

“So, how did you people get the church here?” Molly asked one day after lunch.

“I'm a Methodist Priest”, Shannon replied. “I'm the pastor of this church.”

“Wow”, said Molly. “Did you go to a seminary?”

“No, I was a social worker and I was associated with the church under the old pastor. I did work for several churches in those days. When he retired, he had me trained to take over. I trained locally under several other pastors. I didn't have to go away.”

“Was the kitchen and dining room here when you took over?”

“No, we built that. When we moved out of the storefront downtown. This used to be just one big room. One big church. We divided it up.”

“Were you a church downtown?” Asked Molly.

“No, just a group of friends. We had always run a lunch service and the free store. My great grandfather and his people started that when they first came to Colorado back in the sixties. We just took over as they got too old to work it.”

The actual church was huge, but generally only used for the really big dinners the group put on. The ones at Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and Easter. The town knew about these and often more than a hundred and fifty people would show up for the ham and turkey. The main church was rarely used for a church service, save for perhaps an evening Christmas pageant where children would sing.

The problems began when a woman named Julia completed her nursing studies at Colorado Mountain College and obtained a good job at the local hospital. She and her two little girls moved from being people who survived on Section 8 housing, the lunch program and other handouts to a middle class family. Julia, however, needed someone to watch her girls when she worked. Being just out of school, with only a bachelor's degree, she didn't as yet make a lot of money for day care.

The four cooks, the highest status people on the lunch crew, were all older Hispanic women who had raised many children in their lives. They saw Julia's problem as being slightly silly and told Julia to just drop the girls off at the church for the day. There would be at least one of them there from 8:00 AM until perhaps four. And if Julia wasn't back by then, the girls could just go home with one of the cooks. And this worked very well.

So well in fact, that other women soon began to avail themselves to the service. And one of the cooks recruited her old aunt to watch the kids full time and keep them out of the kitchen. Shannon was able to pay her minimum wage out the the church funds. So the aunt now kept the kids in the church proper. The church pews were movable and the huge, clear, indoor space provided a fine playground for the kids during the bitter cold Leadville winter. Tricycles and and other toys for the kids were brought in. There were wooden Gothic arches along the sides of the central room of the church and ropes and tires were hung from these for the kids to swing on.

Shannon inquired about insurance, given that a day care service was now in operation, and this got back to the Methodist regional office. A representative came up from Breckenridge to see what was going on. She really had no problem with the day care service, and actually thought it was a good idea, but then the woman inquired how they got the church back together in time for Sunday service. Right now it was a huge open space with trikes, bikes and other toys parked everywhere, and rope swings hanging from the rafters. Shannon sheepishly confessed that “recently” there had not been a Sunday service.

This caused problems and the normally calm Shannon became visibly worried. She put together a crew to clean up the church every Saturday afternoon so that services could be held there on Sunday. But nobody showed up for church services. There was very little interest among any of the regular crew for such a thing.

Molly, Kylie and Joanie were sitting with Shannon at lunch one Friday afternoon about three weeks later.

“I have a new job for you three”, said Shannon.

“What?” Asked Kylie.

“You have to come to the church service and participate.”

“Oh no”, said Kylie. “We go out on Saturday and it's hard for us to get up that early the next day.”

“Yeah”, said Jonaie. “We don't get up on Sunday until eleven or twelve.”

“I know”, said Shannon. “That's why I moved the worship service to five in the evening. All of you should be up by then.”

Joanie and Kylie looked at each other, feeling trapped.

“It's only for a half an hour”, explained Shannon. “And we'll have a dinner afterwards. And you two can cook.”

“We can?” Said Kylie.

“Not anything elaborate”, said Shannon. “Probably just soup and bread. We don't want to be there cleaning the kitchen all night.”

“That would be fun”, said Joanie.

“Is the central office still breathing down your neck?” Asked Molly.

“Big time”, said Shannon. “If they show up and there's no service, we might lose the church.”

“Wow”, said all three.

“I can bring Jane”, Molly added.

“And you guys have to be serious”, Shannon said, looking at Joanie and Kylie. “No drinking or smoking pot. Especially in the church. If the central office sees anything like that they'll s**t.”

“So what happens at church?” Kylie asked.

“Nothing much, mostly we just sing songs and talk.”

“OK, that doesn't sound too bad.”

“And you guys don't have to dress up”, Shannon added. “Just wear what you always wear.”

“Barefooted?” Asked Kylie, who disliked wearing shoes indoors.

“Sure.”

That night, when Jane returned to the cabin, Molly confronted her.

“We have to show up at church.”

“I did”, Jane replied. “I ate there last Friday. And helped sweep the steps out front.”

“No, we have to go to church services on Sunday.”

“Like Hell”, Jane Replied. “I don't don't do church. I don't fit in with those types.”

“If Shannon doesn't get a congregation she might lose the church. She needs bodies. And she promises the service will be short.”

“Early in the morning?”

“No, at five at night. Just think of it as washing dishes to pay for the food we get.”

“OK, I guess that sounds reasonable.”

So that Sunday, at 5:00 PM, the congregation of ten assembled. Kylie and Joanie, fearful that the service might be boring, had burned a fat one out in the back parking lot and were now kind of out of it. Bill, one of the old hippies in the lunch club, started things off with a sage smudge for everyone. Shannon then picked up her guitar and began a hymn, but she was a crappy guitar player and soon gave it up and just sang. Everyone else joined in. They then had a twenty minute discussion about what spirituality meant to them.

About five minutes into the discussion, Joanie and Kylie left and went out into the kitchen to warm up the soup and biscuits.

The service ended at 5:30 and everyone went to the lunch room and sat down for dinner.

Word of the church service got out and five or six people from the lunch crew started showing up in addition to the core ten people. George, the guy with the Mohawk, liked to attend with his wife. The central office did drop in to nose around and found everything to be proper, if somewhat sparsely attended.

Molly brought her fiddle and another guy, who really could play the guitar, started coming. Then a banjo, a couple more guitars and a mandolin showed up. And the church service evolved into a bluegrass pick. And a very popular and well attended one. But one always ready to assume a pious pose if the central office walked in.

Nell Recovers

Nell's life had devolved into a living hell. It was so bad she didn't fault herself for indulging in a glass of wine, a somewhat large glass of wine, and a little self pity. Her trailer, which was to be her big entry into the Santa Barbara real estate market, had not sold. In fact there had been very little interest in it. And to compound matters, what had originally made the mobile home subdivision attractive, the fact that it was populated with young engineers from Santa Barbara's three aerospace companies, now worked against her. When aerospace went down, all the companies went down and each day there were more trailers for sale in the subdivision. Many, of equal quality to Nell's, but priced below the amount of her mortgage.

And her job wasn't going well at all. During the boom years the company ran on cost plus contracts and the company had billed her out to the government for an exorbitant rate. And the company didn't really care if she performed or not. In these circumstances she made money for them no matter what. But it was now a new ballgame, with the company trying to enter the private sector, attempting to build commercially viable server farms and satellite down links. Money was scarce and every working hour was scrutinized for productivity. And Nell was finally forced to admit that she just wasn't as good at this game as she thought she was.

And at six years in, the tech start-ups in Silicon Valley were not interested in her. They wanted new grads versed in the latest tech, and anyone with her years of experience needed experience directly on point to interest them. And Nell didn't have this experience. She had the taint of aerospace about her. She was a bean counter who worked with government spec compliance, something that didn't exist in the new and nimble companies up North. Nell grimly awaited the day when she would be called in and handed her pink slip.

And to make matters worse, Molly and Jane were gone to Colorado. There was no stopping by the shabby duplex to commiserate with them. And she never could have imagined how she would miss them, the two odd women with no apparent men in their lives save for Molly's father. And William, a gay guy.

The duplex had been completely given over to strangers. And that was the worst part of all. During one of their falling out periods, Pete had begun hanging around with Suzanne, one of their old mutual friends. Nell had thought nothing of it, the three of them had hung around together for at least a decade. They'd been roommates and the three of them had traveled together. But then Pete had been laid off from the small downtown consulting firm that he worked for. Suzanne quit her temp software job and the two had moved to Washington where Pete got some kind of a job with a timber company. They apparently had a nice cottage along the rural coastline and had no intention of ever coming back to Santa Barbara. So Nell was alone.

It happened on a Monday morning. Nell was called into the HR office.

“Sit down Ms. Mclaughlin”, said the HR woman, indicating a chair. “Things are very difficult at SBRC right now and we have to reduce staff. This is a very difficult thing and only key positions will stay on. And, unfortunately, it has been determined that your position is not one of these. Over the next four weeks we're going to try to find someplace to insert you, but there is no guarantee that something will be found. So we are advising you to seek outside employment immediately. You won't be required to be here over the next four weeks unless something is found. We've got a severance package for you that consists of one week's pay for each year of service. In your case, that's six years. You will be awarded this when you leave the company, whether it is now or some weeks down the line.”

“I suppose that's better than nothing”, Nell sighed.

A look of concern came across the HR reps face and she added, “You're not being singled out. It's happening it everybody. I'm being transferred to the Valley when we're done here. And that's if I'm lucky. If I'm lucky I get to keep my job in a place I swore I would never live. Things are bad.”

That night, Nell got on line and calculated her unemployment benefits. They were not enough to make the trailer payments, much less pay for the other living expenses. The six week severance would allow her to keep up the mortgage payments for two more months. So the question was, flee now and try to make a fresh start with the severance and unemployment, or make a stand and try to sell the trailer before it bled her white. Nell couldn't decide and instead got very drunk.

She called Molly later that night and raved about the courageous stand she planned to make and then broke down crying. Molly told her to call back in the morning, several times, and then gave up and hung up.

Molly called the next morning at about 10:00 AM, Nell had not fully come around yet.

“How are you feeling?” Molly asked.

“Like crap”, Nell responded. “But it would be a joy to just be hung over. My whole life has turned to s**t. And I'm sorry about last night. I was a wreck.”

“So you lost your job?”

“Yeah, yesterday morning. I'm not out yet, but they told me it was just a matter of weeks. And you were right, this damn trailer is going to eat me alive. Pete's gone. You're gone. Everybody's gone and I'm sinking fast.”

“What are the odds of finding another job?” Molly asked.

“Nil, I've been looking as hard as I could for six months. No one wants a laid off aerospace worker. And I can't even go back to school. No loans available for me. I used them all up.”

“Then walk away from it”, said Molly.

“From what?”

“That trailer. Don't let it pull you down. With the severance pay and your unemployment you can make a new start. Don't blow it on something you're probably going to lose anyway.”

“What about my credit?” Nell asked.

“Do you honestly think you're going to save the trailer? I heard they foreclose fast on those. It's not like a house.”

Nell was silent for a long moment and then she replied, “No”.

“Then your credit is gone no matter what. Might as well have the cash to start over.”

“I'll never be able to buy a house now”, said Nell.

“You can get over bad credit pretty quick”, said Molly. “Especially someone in your circumstances. with a documented lay off in in a s****y job market. And your credit's good otherwise.”

“I don't know what I'm going to do”, said Nell. “You know, I don't have anything worthwhile left in my life. And I tried so hard to do everything right. I really tried.”

Here Nell began to sob again.

Molly was silent for a long period. She then said, “You could come out here with us. Out to Colorado.”

“There are no jobs there”, Nell sobbed.

“There are no jobs in Santa Barbara”, Molly replied. “And there are jobs out here, just not engineering jobs.”

“Like what?”

“You could work at the ski areas”, Molly replied. “Those jobs don't pay much but they're a lot of fun. And you could do one until you got back on your feet.”

Molly was lying here. She been around Colorado enough to know the ski areas treated their people like s**t and everyone who worked there hated it. But she couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment.

“I really appreciate that. Let me think about it. I'm just so confused now.” Nell was confused, but she also needed to get away for a little hair of the dog. She felt awful right now.

Back in Colorado, in the little studio apartment behind the office of the Mountain Spirit Lodge, Jane glared at Molly and asked, “Did you just ask Nell to come out and live with us?”.

“She doesn't have to live with us. She still has money. She can find her own place.”

“Jesus”, Jane replied. “It felt so good having her back in California. Maybe we can find her a place in Denver.”

“Well, Pete's gone, so she won't have anybody to fight with”, Molly observed. “So the drama and excitement might be less.”

“But it's at the zero level now”, Jane replied. “Why have any at all?”

“She was crying. I didn't know what to say. Her whole life fell apart. Pete left, she lost her job and that stupid trailer is going to get foreclosed on.”

“We warned her about that”, Jane replied.

“Everyone makes mistakes. And it wasn't a stupid mistake, just sort of a long shot gamble. It could have worked out.”

“Well, this is a tiny studio. We don't have room for Nell. We don't have room for her suit case and we don't have room for that huge bottle of wine she's going to bring.” Jane replied.

“Nell isn't moving in here. OK? Does that make you happy?”

“It does”, Jane replied.

Nell called back two days later, 10:00 AM California time. She sounded groggy and hoarse on the phone. Like in the old days after a hard night of screaming at Pete.

“You sound bad”, said Molly.

“I got in an argument with some people over at the Happy Time last night”, Nell replied.

“That bar over in the Fairview shopping center?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you arguing about?” Molly asked.

“Oh, it's not important. I called because I've totally had it. I've had it with the people around here and had it with my life. I would like to come to Colorado if that's OK with you. Just come out for a while and check it out.”

“OK, we'll start looking for a place for you”, Molly replied. “Are you coming right away.”

“Soon”, said Nell. “But can't I stay with you guys?”

“We just have a little studio and Jane doesn't think there's room for three. And there probably isn't.”

“I don't know if I have enough for a hotel. And I'm only coming for a couple of weeks to see the place. Couldn't I stay with you for just a couple of weeks? I won't be any trouble.”

“It would cause problems with Jane and I don't want that.”

“You act like she's your wife or something.”

“Well, she is I, suppose.”

Nell was quiet for a long time.

“Oh my God. I knew you guys were thick as thieves, but you're a couple? I never knew.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Wow!” Said Nell. “But maybe there's a campground nearby.”

“Yes there is, but there are no facilities. No bathrooms or showers.”

“Could I use yours?”

“Let me see what we have. We might be able to squeeze out a cabin for a couple of weeks. You could stay there.”

“OK, let me know”, Nell replied. “I really have to do something. I'm going crazy here.”

Molly checked, and to her dismay, the guests really could be juggled to free up a cabin for Nell. If there had been no cabin, Molly would have felt fine telling Nell that, but her conscience forced her to be honest. The next day Molly called Nell:

“Looks like we have a cabin you can use for a couple of weeks. That should give you time to get oriented.”

“Great. Thanks. I'll take my car in for the high altitude tune up.”

“What's that?” Asked Molly.

“The mechanic calls it a 'Denver tune up”, it tunes up your car for high altitudes.”

“Never heard of it”, said Molly. “How much does it cost?”

“Three hundred dollars”, Nell replied, but it's worth it.

“They're just robbing you. Just come out in your car the way it is. We did and it was fine.”

“The mechanic said it would pay for itself in the gas it saved.”

“It doesn't take $300 in gas to get here and back”, said Molly. “How is it going to save you that much money.”

“Well I think it's a good idea.”

“Nell, I think if you run out of money you're going to be very much on your own. Just come out with your car the way it is and if you need the High Altitude Tune Up, or whatever it is, I'm sure they have it out here. Saver your money.”

Nell spent the next week moving out of the trailer and putting everything in storage. She then telephoned that she was leaving the next morning. Jane and Molly would wait the two days for her to arrive. That night in bed Jane said:

“I don't like it that you brought out Nell.”

“I didn't bring her out, and she'll only be here for a couple of weeks.”

“Bull, especially if she doesn't have anyplace to go. And she doesn't.”

“Relax, she'll go get a job at one of the hotels or ski areas. I've mentally prepared her for a step down. Told her it was just getting on her feet. If she gets something decent, and she probably will, she can get her own place and have her own life.”

Nell arrived in front of the office about 2:00 in the afternoon. Molly came out to greet here. She ran to Molly, hugged her and began sobbing.

“I've missed the old people so much. It's so good to see you.”

Molly felt guilty about the bad things she and Jane had said about Nell and she disengaged from her.

“Let's get your stuff in the cabin”, Molly said. “It's one of the ones you can't drive too. Those usually go last.”

Jane came out of the office and said, “Hi Nell”.

“Hi Jane, this place is beautiful. I've never seen anything like it. Even in the Sierras.”

“We like it”, said Jane, as she pulled the big wagon out from beside the office. It had big pneumatic tires for rolling over the lawn and a stake bed arrangement for carrying lots of luggage. It was loaded and pulled to Nell's cabin.

“Oh, this is lovely”, gushed Nell. As she admired the pine paneled studio cabin with a large aspen bed. “Do you ever rent these by the month?”

Jane glared at Molly from behind Nell's back.

“No, never”, Molly replied. “We have enough traffic for nightly rentals. And those make us a lot more money.”

Kylie and Joanie came in.

“This is your friend from California?” Asked Joanie.

“Yeah, this is Nell”, replied Jane. “She'll be here for two weeks.”

“Hi Nell”, Joanie replied.

“Well, aren't you two cute”, Nell gushed. “I love the dreadlocks. You don't see those in Santa Barbara these days.”

Kylie and Joanie looked at each other self consciously.

Afraid that Nell might slip into one of her insensitive rants, Molly interrupted with a call to go get the last of the stuff.

That evening Molly, Jane, Kylie, Joanie and Nell BBQ'd on the grill behind the office and ate at the picnic table there. The flank of Mr. Massive rose a few hundred yards away and towered over them. Looking spectacular in the evening light.

“I cannot believe this place. It's so beautiful.” Nell said, pouring another glass of wine for herself, Joanie and Kylie. The three were becoming somewhat lubricated.

“You want some?” Asked Nell.

“No”, Molly and Jane both indicated together.

“We have to work tomorrow. And so do you guys”, Molly said, nodding to Kylie and Joanie.

“We're fine”, said Joanie.

The wine was soon gone and Joanie fetched a bottle of cheap whiskey from the barn. Kentucky Deluxe, $7.50 per fifth in Leadville. The three began drinking shots from the empty wine glasses.

That night in bed, Jane and Molly could hear loud voices and laughter from the barn where Kylie and Joanie had constructed their apartment. Fortunately, most of the other guests far away from the barn and none complained.

Next morning a red eyed Joanie and Kylie stumbled into the office for the sheet of cabins to be cleaned.

“You two look like s**t”, Molly offered.

“We're OK”, Kylie croaked.

“What time did Nell go home?”

“She's still in the barn. Sleeping on the floor.”

Kylie and Joanie had a secret stash of prescription narcotic pain pills squirreled away for mornings just like this one. And within a half an hour they felt fine and began working on the cabins. They would, of course, be corpses when the pills wore off. But for girls in their mid 20's this was no big deal. And they should be done with work by then.

But Joanie and Kylie would never consider sharing their precious stash with a stranger like Nell. And Nell crawled from the barn at about 11:30 AM. Disheveled and hoarse from smoking she entered the office.

“Where do I go to apply for work at the ski resorts?”

“You smell like a still”, Jane replied. “A still with an ash tray in it. And you look like s**t. I probably wouldn't go today.”

“I just want to plan it out today”, Nell replied.

“Use the office computer and google Vail, Keystone, Aspen and Breckenridge. Check out their employment pages and send in your resume.”

“Jane, are you upset with me?”

“No, just busy right now”, Jane replied, becoming suddenly interested in a collection of papers on the desk.

It was September and the resorts were in their ramp up mode for the winter season. And it was ridiculously easy to get hired. Joanie and Kylie called some friends and got Nell an interview with the mountain crew at Vail. Two days later Nell headed to Vail for a nine o'clock interview with the chief of maintenance. She was taking one of the most scenic drives in the state. Along the Arkansas valley to Leadville with Mr. Massive to West and the Mosquito range to the East. Then, after Leadville, Escondido flats with Mt. Massive in the background, and the valley beyond that had housed Camp Hale, the the WWII 10^th Mountain Division. She crossed a heart stopping bridge over a canyon and then made her way up a rather scary mountain road. Battle Mountain, a shelf road with a six hundred foot drop over the side. This led into the town of Minturn and then Vail.

She parked in the Lionshead parking structure and took the shuttle to the Vail Marriot. She then crossed the street to what was obviously the bone yard. Snow plows, snowmobiles and treaded grooming vehicles were parked everywhere. She found the office building and was shown to a conference room. A few minutes later Jason entered and introduced himself as the maintenance chief. He was a young guy, maybe 35, with a lot of energy and a self described half pipe freak on his snowboard. Nell had been cautioned against saying she didn't ski, so she described herself as a casual skier, held back by money considerations, who would like to have a winter with a lot of time on the slopes. Jason understood perfectly and confessed that was the main reason he was here.

“You'll be on the mountain” Jason said. “And you can have your skis in your vehicle. So you can get a couple of good runs at lunch. And we quit at 4:00, so you can get one more after the chairs stop. And, if you want, they let us on a half an hour before everyone else. A half an hour before work. So you can get an hour and a half in even on a work day if you want.”

“Sounds great”, said Nell.

“Let's go to the gondola”, said Jason. “I'll show you the job.”

The gondola was about a block away. The cars slowed as the rounded the corner at the big horizontal wheel ar the bottom tower and the doors opened.

“Hi guys!”, said Jason to the two guys watching the gate. “Just taking up a new recruit to show her the mountain.”

They were waived through and they stepped into a car and sat down. The doors closed and the car accelerated as it left the station. It was hot in the gondola and it smelled like marijuana.

To Nell, the gondola felt like a carnival ride and it went amazingly high in the air as it passed the first two towers. Nell desperately tried not to look nervous.

“This is the new gondola”, said Jason. “It's only been in service for a couple of years. It has heated seats. Of course, they're not on now.

“Luxurious”, said Nell.

The view was spectacular. Nell could see the city of Vail and the surrounding mountain ranges. Below them mountain bikers were descending the slopes on dirt trails. The gondola descended to an altitude of about 50 feet and stayed there. Nell figured this fall wouldn't kill her and tried to look like a pro riding the thing.

They finally arrived at the top station and disembarked at what looked like a sort of amusement park. There was a rope course and a roller coaster thing going down the mountain. People sat on little wheeled sleds and coasted through the forest.

“Wait!” Said Jason. “Watch over there.”

In a moment a guy in a crash helmet came across the sky about 200 feet up. Looking closely, Nell could see he was on a zip line. He descended into the valley on a line that looked to be miles long. Crossing deep canyons and grazing hill tops on the way down. Nell's fears in the gondola now seemed silly to her.

“That's not for me”, said Nell.

“I did it once”, said Jason. “But I never did it again. But you get free passes if you work here, so you might want to try it.”

“No way”, said Nell.

They descended a grassy slope, passed a restaurant and came to a surreal sight. A sea of snowmobiles that extended almost the the horizon. There were treaded vehicles and other service vehicles parked along with them.

Jason pointed to a small orange vehicle that said, Kobuto on the front fender. It looked like a rugged golf cart. Jason indicated the drivers seat:

“Get in”, he said. “Have you ever driven a Kobuto?”

“No”, said Nell. “But it can't be that hard.”

“The important thing is to not lug the engine. It's hydraulic powered and it will go no matter what your throttle setting or gear, but you can blow up the engine doing that. Always keep it in a gear a little lower than what could run it. Low and slow is good on the mountain here.”

“Turn the key”, said Jason. “Now push that little silver button.”

The engine turned over and died.

“Push it again and pump the gas.”

This time the engine caught and ran.

“Let it warm up for a minute. The air began to smell like diesel exhaust. That's the clutch and here's the gear shift. The pattern is on the floor. Never put it in third on the mountain. Or anything else really steep.”

After a minute, Jason said, “Alright, let's go.”''

Nell force the Kobuto into gear and eased out on the clutch. They started moving about 15 mph.

“Turn here an go up this trail”, said Jason.

Nell complied and started up a rather steep dirt trail.

“Keep to the right as far as you can so the bikes can get by.”

Nell obediently moved the vehicle as far over as she could.

“Hold it!”, shouted Jason.

Nell complied and held the brake. Jason fished a “picker” out from behind the seat, a long pole with jaws at one end and a trigger handle at the other. He reached out and picked up two beer cans and a cigarette pack on the grass.

“This is most of the job”, said Jason, as he stuffed the cans into a black plastic garbage bag. “Patrol and pick up crap that people leave on the trail. You also maintain the rest shelters, we'll come to one in a minute.”

They came to a shelter, a three sided wooden structure that looked like a bus stop. There was a fifteen point check list to go over for each shelter. Most of the problems were resolved by hammering down a loose board or putting in a missing screw.

“In the winter you'll do this on a snowmobile”, said Jason. “Ever driven one?”

“No”, said Nell.

“It's not hard. And you won't be doing anything fancy. You'll be pulling trailer for the trash. There's a lot more skiers than bikers, and a lot more trash to haul out in the winter.”

The job looked like fun. It was definitely not an engineering job or anything that Nell thought would tax her. And it certainly didn't pay a lot. Just barely enough to survive. But it was pleasant being up on the mountain in the Kobuto and cruising the bike paths. And given the fun nature of the job, it wasn't humiliating like taking work in a fast food restaurant. She could always tell people she was doing it for a lark. Nell told Jason she would be happy to have the job if it were offered.

It was assumed that the forty something Nell wouldn't get bombed and drive off the mountain, and that was a primary consideration in staffing the job. So she got the call the next day and was told to report on Monday.

Vail would pay for her bus fare, but not for gas. And given her meager earnings, she found it prudent to take the bus from Leadville to Vail. An hour ride after her fifteen minute drive from Twin Lakes. And the bus arrived an hour before her work began. Meaning that Nell would be putting in twelve to thirteen hours days with the bus time factored in. But she gritted her teeth and did it and, for the first time in her life, had a job she really liked. She hadn't realized it until now, but she had always pretty much hated SBRC and the people that were constantly on her back there.

Here, Jason was a jolly ski bum who was happy as long as she arrived on time and made a reasonable effort to pick up the trash. And there was a lot of camaraderie in the office as the four o'clock quitting time drew near. Jason was good at hiring easy going ski bums, i.e., people like himself. And the mornings on the mountain, with a fresh cup of coffee in the Kobuto, were wonderful. Nell would often go up early to be there when the sun rose over the peaks.

The Saturday of her second week she came into the office, Jane was at the desk.

“Could I rent the cabin from you for a few more weeks?” Nell asked. “The job doesn't pay that much and I need to save up for my own place.”

“No, you cannot”, Jane replied. “We need that cabin. It makes a lot of money for us and we really need the money. We're just barely getting by here.”

Nell was somewhat taken aback. “How long can I stay?” She asked.

“Well, you were supposed to be out today and I have it booked for the day after tomorrow.”

Jane didn't realize that she wasn't driving Nell away, she was driving her into Kylie and Joanie's barn. Which was a serious mistake. Nell began moving that afternoon. Kylie and Joanie simply bought a few more blankets at the thrift store and expanded the apartment to give Nell her own room, and they then charged Nell $500 per month to live there. Which greatly enhanced their fortunes. They bought themselves nice guitars and some needed pharmaceuticals with the windfall. Nell was sworn to secrecy about the rental arrangement.

And all was well until two of Molly and Jane's friends showed up on their way to DIA. They had come from Aspen and were going to Aix-en-Provence for a couple or weeks. Mostly to do some shopping. They liked Jane and Molly's hotel and often stayed there with their many lovers. Their names were Eloise and Delphina. And Nell suddenly realized that her life in the barn and her job picking up trash was a bit dowdy.

Nell Joins the Cougar Club

Eloise was what could be described as a handsome woman. She was 45 years old and looked mature, but was in no way haggared or old looking. In fact, it could be argued that, when fully dressed, she was at the peak of her attractiveness. She had long blonde hair which she wore wound about and piled upon her head and Molly imagined her Farrah Fawcett look back in the late 1980s. She perpetually wore a huge smile that made her eyes crinkle, and the smile was infectious because it was real. She was a big woman, close to six feet tall, and well proportioned. Small breasted but still voluptuous. Her body was just beginning to sag.

Molly knew this because Eloise never missed a chance to get naked. An enthusiastic nudist she had accompanied Molly and Jane on camping weekends where she rarely wore a stitch of clothing. An hour in on a hike her shirt and bra would come off. A little later her shorts and undies. When they met people coming the other way on the trail, Eloise would flash her big infectious grin and say:

“Hi there!”

And Molly would have found this acceptable. A lot of guys took their shirts off hiking in the woods, so why couldn't a women? And naked people were often encountered near lakes and creeks in the back country. So a naked hiker wasn't really that odd. But Eloise took it further. If it was a group of guys she encountered, she could usually get them to stop and talk. She would remove her pack, wipe her face with a bandanna and ask the guys endless questions about the trail ahead. And often she could get them to make a rest stop where they all could sit in the shade and exchange stories.

Molly suspected that Eloise simply liked to be naked in front of a crowd of young guys, and she was partially correct. Eloise loved this. But Eloise also liked girls and part of the show was for Molly and Jane's benefit. Eloise had a thing for lovely young blonde Molly. She didn't want to steal Molly away from Jane, which she thought made a fine couple, she just wanted a fling � which she figured could be kept secret.

Eloise lived in Aspen in a three bedroom home she had inherited from her relatives, who were longtime Aspen residents. She had apparently inherited more than the house as she rarely seemed to work. Or work at anything that wasn't fun. She never wore clothes in the house and rented two of the bedrooms to young snowboarding guys. Not because she needed the money, she once explained to Molly, but because she liked to f**k.

Molly and Jane had recently claimed a small section of the hotel's common lawn for their back yard, and had a high cedar fence built around it. This prevented the guests in the other cabins from looking out their windows, spying the two sitting by their BBQ and coming over to ask a million inane questions.

“How far is it to Aspen?”

“Is the road steep?”

“Fishing good around here?”

At Jane's insistence, the two were getting ready to plant tomatoes.

“It's June” said Molly. “The snows going to fly in three months. Let's plant them in pots so we can put them in the barn.”

“No, they need sun”, Jane replied.

“Not put them in the barn now, put them in this winter. They can grow under the marijuana lights. Kylie and Joanie can water them along with the pot. They can sit out here in the sun all summer.”

“I guess that makes sense”, Jane replied and went to the side of the cabin to get some of the black plastic, two gallon pots they used for the marijuana plants.

The gate rattled and Eloise entered, flashing her big, blonde smile. She was carrying a Styrofoam cooler.

“The first hot day of the year needs to be celebrated with some cold wine”, she announced.

“I'll get some glasses”, Jane said as she vanished into the back door of the cabin.

“So”, Molly said, attempting to make small talk. “Did you f**k your roommates last night?

“Oh yeah”, said Eloise. “Everyone. More than once. Yeah, it as a good night.”

Jane returned and a bottle was opened. Jane and Molly took seats in the recently purchased redwood Adirondack chairs and Eloise took a seat on the chaise lounge. Also redwood with little wooden wheels at the head.

“So what's going on in Aspen?” Jane asked.

“Oh, it's hilarious”, Eloise replied. “Mike Pence has been staying there. And the three houses across the street from where he stays are owned by gay guys. They have the whole block decked out in rainbow flags. Pence can't even see the mountains.”

Eloise then sat up on the chaise and removed her shirt. “Do you guys mind? The sun is wonderful today. And I'm white as a ghost.”

Which, as far as Jane and Molly could tell, wasn't true. Eloise seemed to be pretty much tanned all over, although not yet darkly.

“No, go ahead”, said Jane. And with this Eloise also removed her shorts and lay back on the chaise.

“Ahh, this feels good”, she announced.

The gate again rattled and Kylie and Joanie entered.

“The rooms are all done”, Joanie said.

“You guys have wine?” Kylie asked, staring at the bottles of Chardonnay poking from the ice in the cooler.

“Go get yourself a glass”, said Jane.

Large glasses of wine were poured and Kylie produced a glass pipe and filled it. After taking a big hit, which made her cough, she passed it to Eloise. It was then passed to Joanie who held it out to Jane.

“No, we're going to garden and that stuff makes me lazy.”

Kylie and Joanie stared at Eloise for a moment and then looked at each other and nodded. They pulled their tie dyed outfits off over their heads and lay back on the freshly greening grass. They wore no underwear or shoes, so with the removal of the dresses, they were as naked as Eloise.

“You two are just so cute”, said Eloise as she pulled Kylie's feet into her lap and began to massage the soles. Instintively, Kylie avoided a confrontation by pulling Joanies feet into her lap and also massaging them. Joanie then bumped herself around until she could reach over her head an massage Eloise's feet, and the circle was complete.

The three engaged in foot massages and drank wine for a while until the gate again rattled open. Nell came in. She studied Kaylie and Joanie naked on the grass giving foot massages.

“You two look like a couple of little lesbians”, was Nell's eventual and clumsy comment.

“We are”, answered Joanie.

Nell was somewhat discombobulated by the remark.

“We are too”, said Jane from across the yard.

“You already told me that”, said Nell. Still trying to get on top of the situation.

“Jane and Molly aren't Lesbians”, said Eloise. “They're just monogamous. If they were single they'd jump on every guy in Aspen as quick as I would.”

“Nell, take your clothes off”, said Molly, slightly stung by the Lesbian remark and wishing to mess with Nell's head. “You have to be naked to be here.”

“You're not.”

“Well, we're the hall monitors. We might have to go outside the gate if a guest comes by.”

Nell had spent her life skinny dipping in California mountain lakes and sitting in hot springs, so she wasn't really that freaked out by public nudity, and she removed her clothing and then went to the kitchen for a glass. She found a very large Styrofoam coffee cup, returned to the cooler and filled it with Chardonnay. She then sat cross legged on the grass and remarked:

“This does feel good. It's been so cold since I got here.”

The group relaxed and drank for a while. Nell lay back on the grass between Joanie and Kaylie. One advantage of Colorado was that there were no biting bugs such as chiggers or ticks. Just a nice, soft, warm green carpet.

“Nell, you have really nice n*****s”, said Kylie. “I like them.”

“Thanks, I've never had a woman complement me on my n*****s”, said Nell. “I guess not a guy either.”

“What do you think of mine?” Asked Kylie, laying on her back and thrusting her breasts upward.

“They're nice. You're young and have a nice figure.”

“What do you mean nice?” Asked Eloise. “That's a magnificent pair of twenty-three year old tits. The best you're ever going to see. Kylie honey, would you mind if I came over a nibbled on them a little later.”

“You can nibble on anything you want.”

Joanie grabbed kylie by her dreads and shook her head. “Nope, she cannot. Nobody nibbles on you but me.”

While Joanie held Kylie down, the two seemed to exchange a quick communication.

“You guys, this is getting kind of heavy for me”, said Nell.

“OK, everyone mellow out, we're making Nell nervous”, said Molly. “She's afraid we're going to pet her n*****s.”

“It's all new for me”, said Nell. “Seems that I'm the only one here interested in men.”

“Not true”, said Eloise. “I nail guys all the time. Lots of them. Three just last night.”

“Three?” Asked Molly.

“Yeah, my roommates had their friend over for dinner. There were three guys there last night.”

“And you were dessert.”

"I loved it.” Eloise flashed her eye crinkling smile.

“Have you looked into becoming a Scout Master?” Asked Molly.

“Never thought of that. But I'm getting a nice, kinky picture in my head right now.”

“Hey, you guys!”, said Nell. “C'mon!”

“Here, here”, said Kylie. “Put your head in Joanie's lap here. She has long fingernails and gives a really great head massage. Nothing calms you down like that.”

Somewhat reluctantly Nell allowed her head to be pushed down into Joanie's lap. Joanie did have long fingernails and began meditatively scratching Nells scalp with both hands from front to back. Little short scratching motions that moved from Nells forehead to the back of her head. Both around the ears and straight down the center of the scalp. The feeling was incredibly relaxing and Nell soon found herself in a state of utter bliss.

Kylie then began to rub Nells chest above her breasts, near her collar bone and then down between her breasts to her stomach. Kylie then moved down along the inside of Nell's thighs to her feet, which were then expertly massaged.

Nell sunk into a semi-conscious state of pure feeling. Kylie again started at the collar bone and worked down, but this time she didn't pass between Nell's breasts, but instead gave both a gentle circular rub. It was a bit sexual, but to Nell it felt wonderful. 

Kylie moved up and began stroking Nells breasts with the palm of her hand in a back and forth motion. She leaned close and whispered, “You're a sexy girl Nell”, and then gave Nell a hard, open mouthed kiss. Much to Kylie's delight, Nell responded and kissed back. Kylie roll on top of her and expertly ground her leg into Nells crotch. Joanie gently sat Nell's head on the grass and moved to Nell's side.

“Umm, ugh, stop!” Said Nell, trying to pull back from the kiss and get out from under Kylie.

Kylie rolled off and sat up, She giggled.

“Stop it!” Nell cried, Joanie and Kylie were kneeling on either side and she used her two arms to push Joanie and Kylie away from her.

Joanie crawled onto Nell on all fours, and breathing heavily, put her face close to Nell's.

“Only if you give me a kiss. I didn't get one.”

Joanie dropped, gave Nell a big open mouthed kiss and felt around Nell's teeth with her tongue.

Nell again returned the kiss and dug her fingers into Joanie's back while doing so. She then pushed Joanie away and tried to roll out from under her.

“Ack! You guys, stop it now! Right now!”

She sat up on her knees and saw Joanie and Kylie kneeling nearby, and stifling snickers.

“It's not funny you two. I feel ….... all weird.”

Walking on her knees, Kylie moved close to Nell and began to rub Nell's neck with her hand.

Touching her forehead to Nell's, she said: “Nell, you liked it. We'll have to do it again sometime”. And with this Kylie gave Nell a little peck on the lips.

Joanie came up behind Nell and pulled her gently backwards, “Here Nell”, you just need time to adjust. Lay down between us.”

Each began to rub one of Nell's palms while Nell lay on her back and stared a the open sky.

“I did like it, and that's weird”, Nell finally said.

“Nell, repeat after me. I kissed a girl and I liked it. I kissed a girl and I liked it. Just keep saying that and it will all be fine soon.”

“I'm not going to say that.”

“Suit yourself.”

Kylie and Joanie gave Nell a hand massage until she fell into a deep sleep.

The next thing Nell felt was Eloise gently poking her arm.

“Nell, wake up. Why don't you come back to town with me tonight? We're having a dinner party.”

“I'd have to get dressed”, said Nell, sitting up and trying to clear her head.

“No, you're fine. It's going to be really casual.”

“I can't go out in Aspen in my ripped up shorts.”

“It's a bunch of ski bums in jeans. It's at my house. You'll be fine.”

Eloise finally convinced Nell and the climbed into the old Mercedes and headed back over the pass to Aspen. The dinner party was being thrown by Eloise's two roommates, Robert and Kelvin. Hot, athletic 20 something guys who worked as chefs over on Buttermilk. Their friend Marc were attending as was Delphina, a friend of Eloise's. Marc was a professional snowboarder from Slovenia who worked in a bike shop during the off season. He had a fascinating middle eastern accent. Delphina. was a Greek lady in her 40's with long, coarse black hair. She had a fabulous house on the mountain and was working at becoming a recognized artist. Painting all day every day. She was also taking Cello lessons with the hope of getting to play in the Aspen Summer Festival.

The guys cooked up a wonderful main course of some kind of stir fried shrimp, oriental vegetables and cheese potatoes. This was served with an odd but wonderful salad with nuts and avocado. There was, of course, plenty of wine.

After dinner she found herself on the deck with Kelvin, a Mediterranean looking guy, with a slight foreign accent who looked like he lifted weights and ran a lot. Delphina had entered the Jacuzzi at the corner of the deck with Marc and Nell tried not to watch.

Nell and Kelvin relaxed and talked and watched the moon pop over the top of Ajax. Kelvin began to rub the back of her neck. She gave a little start as Kylie and Joanie had just demonstrated how dangerous this sort of thing could be. But it felt so good she relaxed. Kelvin soon kissed her and after a half an hour of pleasant hugging on the deck, he led her down to his room.

The next morning she sat at the breakfast table in bright sunlight.

“So you fucked Kelvin last night”, Eloise asked with her typical bluntness.

“We had a good time”, Nell replied.

“How many times?”

“Lots, and that's all you need to know.”

“Well, you seemed pretty confused after Kylie and Joanie got done with you. I'm glad to see you're getting grounded again.”

“I can't believe it. I pretty much had sex with a woman. No, scratch that, with two women. While a bunch of other women watched. I did that. I can't believe it.”

“Why?”

“I'm not gay.”

“Yes you are. At least a little bit.” Eloise replied with a suppressed giggle.

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, really straight people don't pull threesomes on the lawn with a couple of 20 something house maids. No matter how nice their tits.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman?”

“Oh honey, I've done a lot more than sleep. My advice is to embrace it and enjoy it.”

“I don't know if I can do that.”

“You can. But make plans to come back next Friday. We'll have another party and f**k some more guys. That will make you feel better. Now, let me get dressed and I'll take you to lunch.”

They had brunch at the Spring Cafe, a small but elegant place on Spring and East Hopkins that offered organic and nouveau cuisine and a nice view of the mountain. All of the tables sat two save for the one in the corner of the patio that seated four. Eloise selected this for Nell and herself.

It hadn't really been a rough night, but it still had been intense and the first thing that was ordered were Bloody Marys. Shaking pepper into her drink, Eloise said, “You might try the Farmer's Breakfast, it's an Egg Benedict thing with poached egg on spinach and toast. With lots of vegies.”

These were ordered along with a second round of Bloody Marys. Three attractive young guys entered the patio and cast about for seats. They looked to be in their early thirties and were well dressed in expensive sports wear. They were dragging a stool up to one of the tiny two person tables when Eloise called, out, “Here, why don't you guys just share this big table with us? We're a couple of lonely old women who would appreciate some company.”

“Why would a woman like you ever be lonely?”, said one of the elegantly dressed guys in a heavy French accent. Eloise just gave her big blonde smile and let her eyes crinkle.

The three worked for a French sport magazine, but they had all been bicycle racers in their former lives, and they were spending ten days in Aspen to train at high altitudes in preparation for the Heart of the Rockies run.

Eloise made a discreet phone call while still at the table. One lasting less than thirty seconds. Delphina was there about ten minutes later. With no make-up and dressed in shorts, sandals and a plain white top, she was still striking, Her black hair was done up in a single braid that hung to her waist, and was as thick as your wrist. She had the best “come hither” smile Nell had ever seen.

A couple of hours were spent in the sun on the patio and a great deal of alcohol was consumed. Delphina had already exchanged contact information with one of the gentlemen, not an easy feat as both had several phones, Twitter accounts and email addresses.

One of the three speculated that this perhaps wasn't the best way to train, sitting in a cafe with a verre and three lovely woman. And he was immediately contradicted, and it was explained that this was actually the best way to train, and that sweating up a mountain road on a bike could be done any time.

“Del has a fabulous house and she's having a dinner party this Wednesday evening”, said Eloise. “Could you guys make it?”

“It's a jacuzzi party too”, Delphina interjected. “So bring your bathing suits if that's what you wear. But it's fine if you don't have one. I don't wear one myself. That won't bother you will it?”

The three agreed to attend and more personal info was exchanged. They then begged off as they had to attend a meeting in a half an hour.

“OK, who gets who? Let's not all fight over the same guy while two go to waste.” Said Eloise.

“I already picked”, Delphina reminded the others. “You and Nell fight over the other two.”

“I want the guy in the hat”, said Nell, suddenly finding her confidence.

“OK, I guess a dick's a dick. I'll take the leavings”, Eloise replied.

“So is Nell in the Cougar club now?” Asked Delphina.

“Not yet, she's just a prospect now”, Eloise answered.

“I guess I'm supposed to ask what's the 'Cougar Club'”, said Nell. “So what's the Cougar Club?”

“It's a club for cougars”, Delphina replied.

And with this both Delphina and Eloise rolled up their sleeves to show identical cougar tattoos on their left shoulder. Small, tasteful and easily hidden with a short sleeved dress.

“Cougar pride”, said Eloise. “Do you think she's ready Del?”

“How many new guys did you f**k this week?” Asked Delphina.

“Only one”, said Nell. “But I also messed around with two girls at the same time, and Eloise watched that one.”

“Well, that certainly counts for something. I guess we should head over to the tattoo parlor.”

Nell Gives up the Ski Bum Life

Joanie and Kylie were busy with their room cleaning and Molly had gone to Aspen. Nell was off work that day and bored. And she took to hanging around Jane, which greatly irritated Jane. Jane had already tried to get rid of Nell by telling her that she wanted to work in the garden, but Nell had simply offered to help.

Nell was wearing a black tank top and Jane thought this made her look about 15. A fifteen year old with wrinkles, perhaps because she smoked too much. Of course, Nell really did smoke, although she tried to hide it. And this was another black mark in Jane's book.

And Jane knew why Nell was wearing the tank top. It was to show off the little black cougar tattoo on her left shoulder. Jane knew that Nell wanted her to ask about it and Jane was determined to not to do so. The cougar tattoo meant that she had been accepted into Eloise and Delphina's f**k club. And now there would be three wild old women out haunting the Aspen bars. Hide your sons everyone.

Nell could stand it no longer and said, “Delphina got me a tattoo. See it?”.

“I saw it”, Jane replied. “So now there are three women in the Cougar Club. Huh?”

“It's not really a club. They're just my friends. I really like them.”

“Well, I guess it's nice to have a hobby”, Jane mused.

“A hobby?”

“Yeah, f*****g guys”, Jane replied. “Isn't that what the Cougar Club is all about?”

“We're single women and there's nothing wrong with trying to meet eligible men.”

Joanie suddenly barged into the office and said, “The desk lamp in number six is busted and there's none in the barn.”

“Molly's in town, I'll have her pick one up at the thrift store while she's there.”

“OK, Hi Nell.”

“Hi Joanie.”

Joanie stepped forward, embraced Nell and planted a big wet kiss on her cheek.

“Nell, you're a sexy little wombat”, Joanie whispered while shaking Nell from side to side.

“Ahh! Yak!”, Nell struggled and got away. “Will you two quit that s**t?”

Joanie chuckled and left, to return to her rooms.

“OK, so now who's talking about weird sex?” Asked Nell.

“Probably your two buddies. They like guys the best, but when there's none around they … you know, anything that moves. And I kind of don't like your attitude. I don't consider Molly and I to be weird.”

“I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just find it weird that I have two twenty something girls following me around trying to molest me. The other night in the barn they said they were trying to get me drunk so they could take advantage of me.”

“They're just giving you s**t. They didn't like your lesbian crack and they're getting even.”

“What lesbian crack?”

“Last week when we were planting the tomatoes. When Eloise was here. You said they looked like a couple of little lesbians. And Joanie said something like, 'Well, what are we supposed to look like?'”

“Oh, I vaguely remember that.”

“Well they remember it good. Actually, I think you should apologize to them. It might stop them from playing grab a*s with you.”

“I think you're right. I'm just not used to being around gay people and sometimes I blow it.”

“Nell, you've been around gay people since the day you were born.”

“Alright. I'm sorry. You people remind me of that old Sammy Davis Jr. skit where nobody can say anything without offending black people.”

“You think we're black people?”

“No”, said Nell. “I'm going to find Joanie. Bye.”

Jane stifled a laugh as Nell ducked out the office door.

Joanie was in cabin six and Kylie was working in four.

“Joanie, look, I said something stupid the other week and I think it offended you two. I just want to say I'm sorry. OK? I didn't even know it until Jane explained it to me.”

“I'll forgive you if you give me a big hug and a kiss.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it's easy, now put your arms around me like this. See how I'm doing it? Now dig your fingers into the soft parts of my back like this. Sort of a massage. Doesn't that feel good?”

“It feels good.”

“Now do that and plant a big, wet kiss on this cheek, and then wait a little while and do the other cheek.”

“You're serious.”

“Hell yes”, said Joanie.”

They got in position and Joanie said, “OK, let's go.”

Nell and Joanie squeezed and massaged. Nell then planted a kiss on Joanie's left cheek.

Joanie gasped and said, “Nell, I liked that.”

After a minute, Nell did the right cheek and Joanie squirmed up against her in response. Joanie then grabbed the back of Nell's neck and kissed her firmly on the mouth. They held this pose for a long time and then fell onto the cabin's unmade bed, where they rolled around for several more minutes..

Joanie pulled away and said, “That was nice Nell. I liked it. Thank you”.

Nell cleared her throat and replied, a bit hoarsly, “Funny, I liked it too. Kiss me again?”

“Sure.”

After another short interval, Joanie again broke away.

“That's enough. If Kaylie walked in she'd shoot me. But Nell, you're sexy and I really enjoyed cheating on her with you.”

Nell looked stunned as she re-entered the office.

“You look weird”, said Jane. “Did Joanie smack you?”

“We made out. I made out with a girl.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes. Yeah I did. That's why I feel weird. I need a cigarette and a drink. I'm going back to the barn.”

Jane made a mental note: Have Joanie play kissey face with Nell, Nell then leaves and goes back to the barn. Where she belongs.

Feeling discombobulated Nell decided to drive over the pass to see Eloise and Delphina. It was still early and maybe they could find a sunny spot to have a drink. They were over at Delphina's house and Nell pulled up to the odd but spectacular residence. It was three stories and built around a central courtyard. A glass roof covered the courtyard at the third story and Delphina had talked about having a mechanism installed that would allow the glass to be rolled back. But so far, all the estimates had all been too high. Both the second and third floors had balconies that circled the open space. All the doors into the open space were of thick frosted glass with brass fittings.

The first floor consisted of one large open space that served as kitchen, dining room and living room. A house set up for entertaining. Delphina and Eloise sat in a sunny spot in the center of the open space.

“Nell, you're going to be totally out of step with us if you're sober”, said Eloise, pouring a glass of Chardonnay from the small roll bar that also served as a coffee table.

“Thanks. I need this.”

“You do seem a bit off today, what happened?” Asked Dephina.

“I sort of had sex with Joanie this morning.”

“Good choice”, said Delphina.

“Yeah, she's definitely the cutest of the two.” Eloise noted.

“Nothing like a 23 year old lover.” Delphina added.

“But I never did that before, I feel all discombobulated.”

“Well, wait until Del or I discombobulate you.”

“It doesn't have to be an 'or', we can both discombobulate her together. Would you like that Nell? You gotta earn that cougar tattoo.”

“Please, my head's spinning. You guys know a nice sunny spot where we can get a drink? And I can calm down?”

“The Ajax?”

“The Wild Fig?”

“No”, said Delphina. “Let's go to the Sundeck. I love the view and I've never been up there in the summer.”

“The lift is running?” Asked Nell.

“Sure, just like with your deal in Vail”, said Delphina. “Takes people up to the restaurant and the little Disney Land they're trying to get going up there.”

“Either of you guys famous?” Asked Eloise. “I want to see the secret room.”

“They talk about that in Vail”, said Nell. “You can only get in if they recognize you at the door.”

“I have a George Bush mask”, said Delphina. “And you two can be my dates.”

“Let's get out of here”, said Eloise. “Who's good to drive?”

“Question is”, Nell said. “Who's going to be good to drive when we get out of the bar?”

“Yeah, let's call a cab”, said Delphina.

The boarded the gondola and started the trip up to the Sundeck.

Nell sighed, “S**t, I feel like I'm going to work. I ride the Vail gondola every morning.”

“You have a weird job”, said Eloise. “How did you get into that?”

“Joanie and Kylie set me up with it when I first came out to Colorado. They used to work for my boss and he likes them. Likes them a lot.”

“Sure, they gave him the thrill of his life”, said Eloise.

Nell saw that this was probably true and snickered, and then continued: “I got laid off from an engineering company and I was looking for something just to get settled.”

“Do you like it?” Asked Delphina.

“I loved it at first. Driving around on the mountain in the morning with a cup of coffee. I'd never seen the Rockies before and everything was so spectacular. But I'm getting tired of it now. It's basically a kids job and I need to start looking around.”

“And not looking around Vail Corp”, said Delphina. “Nobody in recorded history has ever been promoted to a better job at a ski hill. You come in as a grunt, you stay a grunt.” After a moments reflection she added, “But you do have the option of becoming a different kind of grunt. Moving from, say, shoveling s**t to bailing pee.”

“Del can help you with a job”, said Eloise. “She knows everyone in Aspen.”

“And many in the Biblical sense”, Delphina added.

“I'd take any help I can get”, Nell replied.

They took a seat outside at the Sundeck and the view was spectacular. Especially so for Delphina, who was used to seeing the area covered with smooth, deep snow. But now the mountains were complex with forests, rocks and gullies. They ordered drinks and sat in the sun, but were a bit disappointed with the crowd, which consisted mostly of families and college kids.

“Let me speak frankly”, said Eloise. “There is not a lot of loose dick running around this place.”

“Yup”, replied Delphina.

So the three had a few more rounds and then borded the gondola for the trip down. They had Greek Salad at the Wild Fig for dinner. Delphina noted that no Greek had ever seen anything like what they were eating. And they then returned to Delphina's house for more wine.

“Del, can I stay here tonight? Cops are out big time.”

“Sure. Nell, you better stay too. Sleep here or in the iron bar hotel.”

Eloise and Nell made themselves comfortable on the large couches and Delphina retired to her room.

Several hours later Delphina shook Nell awake and put her fingers to her lips.

“Come with me”, she mouthed and took Nells hand.

They ascended to the second floor and Delphina's room.

Once inside, Delphina took both of Nell's hands and said, “Nell, I don't want to freak you out. But it was hard to sleep knowing you were just downstairs. I'm really attracted to you. And I'm wondering if you'd like to stay up here with me. Nothing heavy. Just sleeping.”

Nell leaned forward and kissed Delphina.

“I just learned I could do that today.”

“From Joanie?”

“Yes.”

“Well, she taught you well Let's go to bed.”

And the two spent a pleasant night hugging and rubbing backs. They overslept however, and Nell didn't get back to the couch until after Eloise was up. And, as a result, they had to endure a barrage of bawdy jokes over breakfast.

Two days later Nell got a call from Delphina.

“You went to college and worked with computers. Right?”

“Yeah. But I'm not an IT grad. My degree is in Electrical Engineering.”

“But you can do spreadsheets. Right?”

“Oh yeah. To be honest, I never really worked as an engineer. I was a bean counter that kept track of equipment failures and ordered spare parts. Stuff like that. And that's spreadsheet intensive. I'm an pro with Excel.”

“Well, my friend just told me about a job at the Aspen Chamber of Commerce. It's an admin position, not a secretary. Someone who keeps track of the invoices, pays the utilities, watches the budget and works as a buyer. And they want a spreadsheet person for the job.”

“Oh my God, that's great. How do I apply?”

“Just email me your resume and I'll walk it in.”

Nell raised some hackles while kicking Jane off the office computer so that she could email her resume. But Jane calmed down when she learned that, if successful, the operation would involve Nell moving to Aspen. And away from the hotel.

Two days later, Nell drove Independence Pass for the first of her three interviews. It was with Delphina's friend. An extremely attractive 40 year guy who owned a hotel. It went well and Nell got the feeling that any friend of Delphina was OK with this guy.

That night she had dinner with Delphina at her house. A local restaurant had delivered a really nice meal.

“Nell, that job will be so good for you. You'll be in contact with all kinds of fabulous people. It will be good for all of us. All three of us will benefit.”

“And I can be a grown up again. Being a ski bum was fun. And I'm going to tell stories about it for years. But being an old ski bum is sort of dismal.”

“Yeah, Joanie and Kylie fit right in. But maybe they better get settled before they turn thirty. And I'm kind of isolated with my art. I've lived here all my life, so I know people, but I don't really meet a lot of new people. Your job should help with that.”

“In Santa Barbara the chamber had all kinds of mixers and get togethers. We could all attend those here.”

“We sure could. Keep us in circulation. I don't mind being a 45 year old cougar, but I'm not sure I want to be a 55 year old one. It would be nice to have contacts outside the bars.”

There was a long period of silence and then Delphina continued, “Nell, you're going to spend the night aren't you.”

I planned on it.”

The next interview was with the director and it was kind of hard to read. Nell then went in front of the whole board, and somehow this wasn't as intimidating as she thought it would be. She told a couple of stories about climbing in the Sierras before coming to Colorado and this set a good tone for the meeting. A large portion of group were amateur climbers and the interview almost devolved into a discussion of technical climbing. Two weeks later she was informed she had the job if she wanted it.

Nell and Delphina went to the Wild Fig to celebrate that evening.

“You've been here for a year, so you probably know this, but you can't drive Independence in the winter. It's closed. You'll have to go to Vail and then Glenwood Springs to come in, and that takes about three hours. I don't think you can keep living in the barn with Kylie and Joanie.”

“I know. And I can't afford anything here in Aspen. I was hoping I could rent a room from you or Eloise.”

“I'd be careful of Eloise. Her and her young guys raise hell over there 24/7. You've seen some of it. But you haven't seen it all. Not by a long shot.”

“And you?”

“You don't have to rent from me. You're going to provide a lot with your job. And my place is free and clear. I don't need the money. You can have the other second floor bedroom. I know you'll need some private space. And our doors are just a few feet apart.”

“You and me together?”

“We could get old as a respected couple in this town. The business honcho and the artist. They would accept us.”

Nell and Delphina Meet Society

Nell loved her job at the Chamber and with Delphina's help and guidance she had avoided making any early mistakes that would have branded her a trouble maker.

The first issue was her office. She wasn't a secretary but she hadn't been given an office, mostly because there wasn't one available. Instead she was given the executive secretary's work space outside the director's office. Something Nell found insulting, and something which she would have normally gone on the war path over, but Delphina counseled her to accept it with grace.

Nell's, ahem, office, was a widening of the hallway that ran in front of the director's door and to the back entrance of the office complex. Square foot wise, it was actually as large as the directors office, it just lacked the one wall to cut it off from the hallway. Nell's desk was the barrier that marked her space and behind her were her bookshelves, file cabinets and the copy machine. There were other copy machines in the office, but her's was the best. The only one offering fax capability and color printing, and people were always intruding on her space to use it.

But being in an open area close to the director, a Mr. Mark Mitchell, had some advantages that Nell had not anticipated. Mr. Mitchell was a self made restaurant owner and not much of an academic. He was constantly writing letters in his office and would yell through his front office door:

“Hey Nell, how do you spell 'symptomatic'?”

Or, “Hey Nell, Where the hell is Belize?”

Nell, who had spent six years around computers and computer geeks could also solve his many computer problems. He had a knack for pushing the wrong set of keys and locking up the machine, or his email client, or his word processing program, in a very weird mode.

In addition he loved Delphina, and this was obvious even though he never made an advance towards her. When she would bring Nell lunch and the two would eat in the “Office”, Mark would always join them and become informal and friendly.

So, all in all, Mark the Director found Nell to be a great all around help and developed a special liking for her. Something that wouldn't have happened had Nell been shut away in her own office.

Nell's first real assignment had been to research and purchase two snowblowers to be used for clearing the Chamber's walkways and for lending to the members when things got seriously buried in the winter. Her first impulse was to simply go to the local hardware store and pick up two of their highest quality models, but she somehow felt more was wanted in this effort.

Kylie and Joanie saved the day when they explained that getting proper snowblowers were a big deal at the hotels where they had worked in Aspen and Vail. Inferior models doubled the work. They called the maintenance departments at the hotels where they had worked, and where their friends worked, and asked what to buy.

A single model was universally recommended, a Yamaha equipped with tank treads instead of wheels, with an electric starter and a headlight. Nell collected the names of the various maintenance guys, their official titles on the hotels they worked for. At the next staff meeting she presented her findings.

“The maintenance departments of all the major hotels in Vail and Aspen recommend the same model of snowblower. Here is a list of the hotels I contacted and the heads of the maintenance departments I spoke to.

They all recommend a Yamaha treaded model for reliability, power and ease of operation in deep snow. It costs a little more, maybe a hundred dollars extra, but given it's reputation, I think it would be worth it.

The only problem is that they are in great demand here, especially at this time of year, and there are usually none available. I will have to contact the dealers in the area put in a order. And when one comes in from the factory we grab it. I've contacted several local dealers and they all think they will have one or two coming within the next two weeks. We have to decide if we want to wait.”

“So all the hotels use these?” Asked Mark Mitchell.

“All the major ones. I can email you my list after the meeting.”

“Well, if that's the case, this is definitely what we want. We were wanting something high end for our members to borrow. Put in the orders. If we can't get them after a month or so, we'll reconsider.”

Nell was able to snag two within a couple of weeks. One in Silverthorne and one from a dealer in Avon. Mark was impressed with the machinery and congratulated her on the good job. He drove one around the parking garage to get the feel of it.

“I can tell this thing is one hell of a snow eater. It's coming home with me every time we get hit.”

After several more small tasks, Nell finally used her engineering skills and found her true calling in the field of LED light bulbs. The LED bulds cost significantly more than the CFL bulbs the hotels normally used, but they were at least 25% more efficient, and they lasted years longer. And given that the monthly electric bills of he bigger hotels could average fifteen to eighteen thousand dollars per month, this 25% efficiency upgrade was a big deal. In addition, the maintenance crews usually billed the maintenance budget one quarter hour to change a bulb, or about four dollars. And they would change a hundred of bulbs on a weekend. So the long life, years longer than the CFL's, was also a big consideration.

But the bulbs cost so much the hotels balked. Most were waiting until money was free to make the change over, and money was always tight. But Nell did some calculations and figured out a way for the hotel to buy only a few bulbs, maybe ten percent of the total change over, and then use the money saved on electricity that month to buy a few more bulbs the next month. And then use that money saved the next month to buy a lot more bulbs. Until all of the bulbs had been changed out for only the cost of the small initial buy. The rest of the cost being borne by the savings on electricity every month. And after the change over was complete, the hotel made out like a bandit.

The calculations were simple in concept, but actually rather involved in practice. As was the gathering of the necessary data. But after doing a couple of hotels, Nell was an expert. And this service ceased being a free assistance offered by the Chamber. They now charged a reasonable fee for it, and it made money for them as many of the large hotels in Aspen, Vail, Beaver Creek and Breckenridge lined up to have their change over schedules calculated.

Nell complained to Mark about being disturbed by people coming down the hallway to the back door and by people using the xerox in her space. The next week Nell was disturbed by a construction crew using steel two by fours to build a wall and door that would make her office a private space, and Mark told her that a new xerox had been ordered that would be placed outside in the hallway.

For the first time in her professional career Nell felt secure in her position and proud of what she had accomplished. She realized that her crowing about the minor assistance she had provided in her old aerospace job had been silly.

Nell and Delphina were sitting home one evening as the first snow fell in Aspen, and the two had lit their first fire of he year in the living room, Delphina said, “I'm so glad things are going well for us. I think it's time we had a coming out party. One to introduce ourselves to the people here in Aspen.”

“I wouldn't know how to do that”, said Nell.

“I do”, said Delphina. “You just make up a list of invitations. All of the people you've worked with who aren't dicks. All the hotel owners and GM's. And all the people at the Chamber. I'll get the gallery owners and all my old friends. Eloise will get some skiers and make sure they behave.”

“How many are we going to plan for?”

“A couple of hundred”, Delphina replied. “That's what the house was built to handle.”

“This house was built to handle big parties?”

“Well, there are six pissers on the first and second floors and a commercial kitchen. How often do we need a twelve burner stove?”

“Yeah, I see”, said Nell. “So when do we have the party?”

“It will take a couple of months to plan. I'd say the third week in November, just as the lifts open. There will be people coming in from all over the world then and I can invite a few of them too.”

So the invitations went out and the two planned the event. Molly, Jane, Kylie and Joanie all declined attending as the pass would probably be closed by late November. And the only other way to Aspen was through Vail and Glenwood Springs, a three hour trip each way.

Delphina solved this by booking Alpine Flight, an air shuttle that operated out of Vail, that  could take the four from the Leadville airport to the Aspen/Pitkin County Airport. A trip of about 25 minutes directly over Mt. Massive. They could return the next afternoon. The plane actually seated five, and it would cost nothing more to take one more person. They would leave at 10:00 AM the Saturday of the party.

Molly offered the extra seat to her father, who declined. And he probably could have driven to Aspen from Avon much easier than driving to Leadville for the plane. On a whim, she called William and offered him the seat. He immediately accepted. In addition, Molly guaranteed him the premier cabin at the hotel. The hotel was empty that week anyway.

William was to arrive at DWI on Sunday, a week before the Saturday of the party. Molly dreaded picking him up at the airport as both 92 between Leadville and Copper Mountain and I-70 up to the tunnels could be the most miserable winter drives imaginable. Molly and Jane usually just considered themselves snowed in between December and April. But William took the Colorado Mountain Express to Vail where he rented a car and came in over Battle Mountain. There was no need to pick him up and he arrived about noon.

“Long time no see”, said Molly.

“My, how you've grown”, William replied, which made Molly feel fat. “Did you ever get that wood stove in my cabin?”

“No, the insurance wont' let us” Molly replied. “Sorry.”

“Well that sucks.”

“How was Battle Mountain?” Asked Molly.

“The road was dry, thank heaven. But my God that is a scary road. I don't think I would have driven it if it was snow packed.”

“Six hundred feet to the bottom. And I know a guy who went off the edge. Hit a rock and stopped before he went over the cliff.” Molly answered.

“Let's get the stuff into the cabin”, said William. “It's crazy cold here.”

“You've had too much Santa Barbara”, Molly answered. “It's thirty degrees with no wind. This is a warm day here.”

From beside the office, Jane pulled out the big wagon, which had now been outfitted with skis. They loaded in William's luggage and pulled it over to the back cabin, the most recently renovated and the largest.

A hardwood floor had been installed and the scuffs had been sanded and buffed out of the knotty pine paneling. The two tree trunks that spanned the open ceiling had been refinished. A large aspen bed had been installed and an aspen dresser and dining table decorated the room. The 1950's cabinets had been replaced with modern ones and modern Kohler plumbing and sinks adorned the kitchen and bath. Only the old claw foot tub remained. It had been kept because it was three feet deep and eight feet long, and nothing as fine could be purchased these days. Instead, it had been freshly painted on the outside and the enamel on the inside touched up. The view was of snow covered Mr. Massive rising a few hundred yards away.

“This is what I dreamed of when we were looking at hotels”, said William. “Except my dream had a wood stove in it.”

“Well, like I said, it couldn't be done”, said Molly. “And frankly, we don't want one. You can't believe what idiots some people are.”

“I most certainly can”, William replied. “Remember, I'm older than you and I've dealt with more idiots.”

To comp William for the lack of a wood stove, Molly and Jane brought in a big radiant heater from the garage. They normally used the more efficient and safer ceramic heaters, but this one was old school with a glowing element that blasted out a beam of strong infared heat that William could bask in.

“Here you California boy, this should keep you warm”, said Molly.

Jane plugged it in and positioned it in from of the two easy chairs by the front window.

“Oh yes, that's nice”, said William.

The heater made a restful soft “Yeannnng Yeannng” sound as it glowed red.

It was now close to 4:00 and getting dark in the shadow of Mr. Massive. Jane and Molly brought over a beef stew that they'd been cooking all day and they heated up store bought “home made” bread in the oven. Dishes, silverware and simple condiments like butter were provided in the cabin. They had a nice dinner and drank red wine and talked about old times. William sat close to the heater sipping wine while Molly and Jane cleaned up and did the dishes. It began snowing hard and William rotated his chair so that they could watch it out the front window in the lights of the hotel.

Nice”, he said, and began do doze in front of the heater.

Molly and Jane tip toed out.

As William made coffee the next morning, there was a knock at the door. William opened it to find two cute young women in identical ski coats.

“Do you need towels?” Asked Joanie.

“Or do you need the bed made up?” Continued Kylie.

“Why don't you come it”, said Willaim. “It would be nice to have the bed made up. I assume you're Kylie and Joanie.”

“We are”, said Joanie, “How did you know about us?”

“Jane and Molly mentioned you”, said William. “Said you were coming on the plane with us.”

“Yeah, that will be so fun”, said Kylie.

They expertly and tightly made up the aspen bed in a couple of minutes.

“Great job”, said William. “I know expert service when I see it. You guys want coffee?”

“OK.”

“You guys wouldn't have a doob on you would you? I didn't bring any from California. Didn't want to get on a plane with it.”

“Sure”, said Joanie, pulling a pack of rolling papers from her coat pocket and a little pill bottle of pot. She expertly rolled up a fat one.

“Ah, my morning smoke”, said William, while holding his breath and extending the joint to Joanie.

It went around a couple of times.

“Roll another?”, asked Joanie.

“No, that's fine. Just need a taste in the morning.” Said William.

“Let's turn on that heater and open a window”, said Kylie. “Jane gets pissed when people smoke anything in the cabins and she'll know it was us if she smells it.”

Ten minutes later there was another knock and William rose and let Jane and Molly in. Both sniffed the air like smokey the bear. Like suspicious dogs.

“OK you two, you smoking pot in here?” Jane asked.

Joanie and Kylie looked at each other guiltily.

“I was smoking a little”, said William. “And they told me it wasn't allowed.”

“I'll believe that when pigs fly”, said Jane. “You were smoking a little and they rolled up big fatty and joined the party.”

“We opened the window”, noted Joanie.

“Not in the cabins”, said Molly. “It makes them stink and you know it.”

“Anyway”, said Jane. “Everyone want to go to Leadville for lunch? The snow has stopped and the roads are clear now.”

“Sounds like a good way to kill time”, said William.

“Yeah, we're done for the day”, said Kylie.

They offered to arrange the driving so that William would not have to drive on the snow pack, but he wanted the experience and promised to be careful. They went to the Digger's church and had the free lunch. They were lucky and both ham and chicken were served that day along with mashed potatoes and salad. William was impressed with the meal.

“And this is all free?” He asked.

“Yeah, they're really good at getting donations and almost everyone who eats here volunteers in some way. Jane and I will be working later this week. And they have really great Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners. The whole town comes then.”

Shannon came in an joined them.

“This is our friend William from California”, said Jane.

“The guy who plays that unknown composer you told me about?” Asked Shannon.

“A little Louise Moreau Gottschalk on occasion”, William replied.

“Maybe you could come to our Sunday evening service and play”, said Shannon.

“It's not really church music”, replied William. “In fact, I believe it was originally played in brothels back in the late 19^th Century.”

“Then it's perfect for Leadville”, said Molly. “That was the number one industry back then.”

“Yeah”, said Shannon. “This church dates from 1882 so it probably started out as a brothel. Every other old building in town did.”

“OK, I'll see what I can do”, said Willaim. “You do have a piano I assume.”

“Yes, it's in the church, you're free to check it out.”

They returned their dishes to the kitchen and retired to the church with coffee.

“This is impressive”, said William.

The piano, dating from the late 19^th Century, was obviously expensive, but of a make William didn't recognize. There was also a full pipe organ. The church had not been poor in it's early days and these things had been preserved. William tried a few chords on the piano.

“Excellent”, he exclaimed. “It's well worth putting on a performance to interact with an instrument like this one.”

He stretched his fingers and then began with a Gottschalk's early rag time sounding piece, the weird, high color notes dancing all over the high end of the keyboard, while his left hand boomed out the rhythm chords. Shannon was fascinated.

“I've never heard anything like that before”, Shannon exclaimed at the end of the piece.

“Unfortunately, most people haven't”, William explained. “He's largely forgotten, probably because he's so difficult to play and most of his work isn't well written down. Just figured base and hints of the melody. Most people can't be bothered with it.”

“You definitely have to play on Sunday”, said Shannon. “It will be the highlight.”

They had afternoon drinks at the Tennessee Pass cafe. They were lucky and got a table in the bay window and could see Mr. Massive during the short periods when the snow cleared. They then took William on a walk through downtown Leadville.

“It hasn't changed much since the 1880's has it”, said William.

“No”, said Molly. “It was a big and rich town back in the 1880's and then it just died when the mining played out. Everything has sort of been in limbo ever since. It's a great place for people who like a reasonable place to live in the high Rockies. And like the Victorian architecture. That's how Shannon's people got here. They could afford to live in Leadville.”

William had become fascinated with skiing and sighed up for a series of lessons at the Tennessee pass ski area. He really couldn't do it the first day, but he was coming down the green runs by the end of the next. The third day they took Joanine and Kylie with him, and they found him to be an impossible gaper. A boor. After coming down with him a couple of times, they ditched him for the black diamond runs. But William had a great time and grew to appreciate the attraction of the sport. William vowed to spend time at the hotel every winter improving his skills.

Saturday Morning came and everyone was busy packing, a difficult task as the plane, a Piper Seneca, couldn't hold a lot of luggage. There was a small compartment in the nose and then space behind the back seat, sort of like in a pickup truck, only not as wide. The women had decided to wear street clothes and pack their party clothing and make-up. They used their hiking packs for this assuming Delphina and Nell would have an iron somewhere to touch up the outfits. William brought a duffle bag which he assured the rest could just sit on his lap.

They all squeezed into Williams larger rental car, drove to the outskirts of Leadville, and parked at the airport. They then stood in front of the doors of the main hanger as instructed. It was windy and cold and dead quiet. There was nothing moving at the little airport.

“I hope it comes”, said Jane. “It's sort of spooky standing here.”

“At least it's clear”, said Molly. “We're going right over Mr. Massive and Independence Pass. It's going to be fun seeing those from the air.”

They suddenly heard the drone of the plane's two engines. It came around from behind the hanger and lined up with the runway. It touched down and taxied to the big hanger. The engines shut down.

The pilot opened up a little hole in his side window and called out, “You guys going to Aspen?”.

The group nodded. The pilot opened his door and stepped out onto the wing. He made his way to the center of the plane, behind the wing, and opened the passenger doors. One opened out like a car door and one opened up, to expose the luggage area behind the seats. It was very easy to load the luggage with this system and they placed the packs in the back. Williams duffle bag went in a little compartment in the nose of the plane. William studied the seating arrangement and claimed shot gun, the seat facing forward next to the pilot. With the pilots guidance he walked the wing and climbed in and seated himself. Molly, Jane, Joanie and Kylie took the seats in the rear. Two seats facing forward and two facing backwards.

“My dad's friends had these when I was a kid”, said Molly. “They're not smooth like an airliner, they sort of drift around and I used to get car sick in them.”

“Oh, why did you have to say that!” Said Kylie.

“Sorry”, said Molly. “It wasn't that bad.”

“It was or you wouldn't have been talking about it”, said Kylie. “Now I'm going to get sick. I know it.”

“It's only twenty five minutes. That's not enough time to get sick.” Molly assured her.

“I bet”, said Kylie.

The engines started and the plane turned around. It bounced as it taxied down to the end of the runway. Kylie held her stomach.

“Can you fly low over the top of Mr. Massive?” Shouted Jane, over the noise of the plane.

The pilot nodded. They roared down the runway and took off. Jane and Joanie had a great view of Leadville from their side of the plane as the rose into the air. The pilot knew where the hotel was and he circled Twin Lakes a couple of times so everyone could get a view of their home from the air. He then climbed and headed out over Mr. Massive. He seemed to be having as much fun as the passengers.

Molly was lost and couldn't recognize the features in the white mountainous terrain below. They seemed to be going up the canyon to Independence Pass, but it was hard to tell. But Molly was having a ball and vowed to someday get her pilot's license and a small plane. Way too soon for Molly they landed at Pitkin airport.

The plane taxied up and they saw Nell and Delphina standing by an Aspen Shuttle van. They waved. Molly noticed Kylie slumped in the rear seat of the plane, her face pale and looking miserable.

“You sick?” Asked Molly.

Kylie just nodded in response.

“How was the flight”, asked Delphina, as they were pulling their luggage out from behind the seat.

“Great”, shouted everyone but Kylie, who leaned against the wing of the plane with a stricken look.

The gear was loaded and everyone piled into the van.

A sudden sadistic urge made Molly say, “Now Kylie, don't barf in the van, it's going to be a jerky ride”.

Kylie glared back in response.

Delphina installed them in rooms on the third floor. One for Willaim, one for Jane and Molly and one for Joanie and Kylie.

Molly was still chuckling over Kylie's psychosomatic motion sickness, but decided to try to help her. This was, after all, supposed to be fun for everyone. She knocked and entered the two girl's room. Joanie was messing with the TV and Kylie lay on the bed moaning and clutching her stomach.

“Kylie, whiskey will cure that motion sickness”, said Molly. “It deadens your semi-circular canals and stops the spinning.”

“Do you have some?” Kylie gasped.

“I'll get some from downstairs”, said Molly.

Nell and Delphina were fussing about the living room. They had hired a chamber group figuring that bands just didn't work anymore. Two couples dancing and everyone else out on the deck trying to get away from the noise. The group had arrived and they were trying to get it positioned and get the lighting right. The room was filled with the sound of stringed instruments all playing different melodies.

“you guys got some whiskey?” Asked Molly over the din.

Nell pretended to look at her watch and said, “I thought I was bad. What is it? 11:00 AM?”

“It's for Kylie”, Molly replied. “I psyched her into getting sick on the plane and now I have her convinced whiskey will fix it. Otherwise she might be sick all afternoon.”

“Check behind the bar. There's all kind of stuff there.”

Molly climbed back to the third floor with a goodly snort of Jack Daniels in a plastic cup. Kylie drank it in one long gulp and then said, “Oh yeah, I do feel better. C'mon Joan, let's go check out the downstairs.”

The chamber group opened up with the Brandenburg Concerto Number 3 in G Major. William's door burst open and he stood at the railing looking down into the living room.

“Excellent”, he exclaimed.

Molly and Jane followed, Jane with several glasses and a bottle of Chardonnay. She opened the bottle and handed William a glass. He took it without taking his eyes from the chamber group.

“This is what life is all about”, he said, sipping the wine and keeping time with the music with his foot. The acoustics were excellent there on the third floor balcony. Delphina's paintings were hanging everywhere, as were the works of her fellow artist, a Mary Roberts, who did huge, fuzzy textile pieces. Somehow these damped the echos and gave the balcony a concert hall quality. But the sound guy adjusted the board and the sound got even better. William was enthralled.

The chamber group ended the piece and as the last note died William burst into wild applause.

“I came all the way from California to hear that”, he shouted down into the living room. “Bravo!!”

The chamber group nodded up at him.

“Just doing a sound check”, said the sound guy.

“One more!” Roared William. “You gotta do one more.”

“What do you want hear?” One of the Violas cried up at William.

“Well, Number Four”, William shouted back. “That's logical.”

“Yeah”, said the sound guy. “It would be a good idea to try out those recorders on the mikes anyway.”

And soon the sound of the Brandenburg Concerto Number 4, with the strings accompanying the whirling and fluttering recorders, filled the air. William was again ecstatic and he held his glass out to Jane for a refill.

Molly, Jane and William then took a tour around the third and second floor balconies examining Delphina's paintings and Mary Robert's textile pieces. William found a few of both Dephina's and Mary's pieces to be quite good, but he could also be a cruel critic, describing one of Mary's more fuzzy, round pieces as a hairball and one of Delphina's painting of a horse as an “ugly raccoon”. But these were lesser pieces. The best had been installed on the first floor for maximum exposure.

Joanie and Kylie were in the kitchen area of the first floor flirting with Robert and Kelvin, Eloise's chef roommates and sometimes lovers. They were handling the hors d'oeuvres and dessert dishes, the main meal to be handled by an outside caterer. An oriental beef and chicken entree was featured, although other dishes could be rapidly prepared by Robert and Kelvin, e.g., Hamburgers, Pizzza, roast beef or baked salmon.

There was not real dining room on the first floor, just large open spaces. Eighteen tables seating ten each had been set up at various places around the open living area with two on the balcony under heaters for the smokers and people who just like to see Ajax in the snow.

William seated himself at Delphina's grand piano in the corner of the living room and began belting out a Gottschalk number. Several of the chamber group gathered around. When he finished, one said:

“My God, Gottschalk! Not many people in the world who even know who he is, much less play him.”

William bowed from he piano bench.

“Maybe you could play during our break”, said another.

“I'd be delighted”, William replied. “Nothing I like better than hamming it up in front of a crowd.”

The servers arrived and Joanie and Kylie were stunned. The service was run by a young woman who recruited other young women for exclusive private parties in Aspen and Vail. Not only were they lovely, but they were dressed in costumes that shocked and excited. Everything from a lascivious Rocky Horror maid to a Viking/Celtic blonde with real tribal tattoos. The two young women sat I admiring silence feeling they had found their calling. One so much more glamorous than cleaning hotel cabins.

The tennis courts at the bottom of the hill could be leased from the neighborhood association for parking and this had been done. The ten car lot at the house had mostly been taken by staff and musicians. People would exit at the front door and then have valets park for them. An Aspen Transit van had been hired to bring people from the center of town.

As the evening approached both Nell and Delphina became hard to approach and nervous. They began to imagine how the party could ruin them as well and make them. But all seemed fine. But it was hard to quell the worry. At seven, they took up stations at the door.

William was now dressed in a stunning silk shirt and suit and a pair of Salamander boots he had bought in Paris. Understated and elegant. At Nell's request, he would help with greeting the arrivals. Nell and Delphina would do the initial greeting and then William would lead the party to the bar and, on the way, show them where they were invited to sit for dinner.

The room filled and a nice jovial tone was felt among the crowd. The deck was popular as it offered a wonderful view of Ajax, the ski runs glowing under the moon and in the lights of the town. People wandered all three levels examining the artwork on display. Per Williams request, the chamber group opened with the Brandenburg Concerto Number 3 in G Major. Even people unfamiliar with classical music followed this and enjoyed it. Many complimented Nell and Delphina on their choice of the chamber group over a “damn band” that tended to clear the room.

Molly felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Eloise. She was with Bernard, a very good looking down hill competitor from France who appeared to be about 30 years old. She had her eye crinkling confident smile, but Bernard appeared a little lost. Molly and Jane called over William and introduced him. And Eloise seemed somewhat taken by him, something that might provide a hilarious tale from William in days to come.

At 9:00, a woman in the chamber group used a microphone to ask everyone to be seated for dinner. When this was done, the servers entered and the crowd, laughed, hooted and applauded. The chamber group played softly during the meal. By all indications it was a great success and people remained in their chairs after the tables were bused and the table cloths removed.

A photographer from the Aspen Daily News showed up and got several pictures of Nell and Delphina together and several shots of the downstairs area with the guests. William hammered out several of his Gottschalk numbers when the Chamber group took a break an he drew a decent crowd around the piano.

Afterwards, William was approached by a guy in his early 30's.

“Loved the Gottschalk”, he said. “I'm Michael Spencer and I run a small recording studio here in town. Nothing big, but I work with a lot of the local artists. I'd like to talk to you about putting together a CD of Gottschalk numbers. I have access to distribution, but I doubt if it will make either of us rich. My real goal would be to preserve the music.”

“I'd like to to do that”, said William. “I try to interpret as accurately as a can and I've spent years working it out. I don't need to be famous for it, but I'd hate to see the music die someday, and I'm never going to get around to writing it all down.”

The two exchanged contact information.

The party really broke up about 3:00 AM, but there were about 20 guests that were in really no shape to leave and Nell, Delphina, Molly, Jane and William put these to bed on the various downstairs couches. Delphina asked the last of the catering staff to see that a breakfast was brought up about 10:00 AM the next day.

The next day one of the photos of Nell and Delphina appeared in the “Featured Photo Section” of the Aspen Daily News, and there was a short blurb about the party elsewhere in the paper. Delphina was ecstatic with this and with the fact that she had sold three paintings. Not for a lot, just enough to cover the materials and a reasonable compensation for her time, but she had never sold a painting before. She already had an idea for the next party where she would invite several artists to exhibit. The best she could get. And her work would hang alongside.

Nell and Delphina were on their way.

Molly and the group helped clean up most of the next day and were then driven to the airport at 4:00 PM for the flight back. Upon arrival, they went straight to the Digger's church where William played Gottschalk for the bluegrass pick that met there at five.

Reviews

[LKBillips]

So I read the first two parts and at first I couldn't see how they related. I wish there was more about The Model Airplane Molly, that one ended abruptly and I felt like there should be a ton more. Then the second one was like a jump forward in time. Is it the same Molly? I liked the idea of the bohemian life and three friends taking off for the weekend and just living. Very cool story. On a technical note, you're quotation marks are off. Sometimes you have them after the sentence has ended..... “Yeah, Molly replied.” I saw a few repeated words, and then a few forgotten words so trying reading out loud while you edit. At least that's what I've been doing. In the first one you started a lot of sentences with And....I would try to change it up a bit. It stood out to me. I wish you had separated these so I could give each one a review by itself, but I will try and read them and comment on several at a time if you want. I hope Molly gets her plane! Hope that helped. Thanks for sharing.

[Miss Fedelm]

Thanks for the review. There is another ending for the model airplane story where Molly is older and buys the model airplane for herself. She no longer wants it so badly, but buys it because she was so disappointed before. Maybe I'll include that one instead.

The second chapter is a jump forward in time and maybe too far. I have a high school story, "Moore Mesa", that might ease the transition if inserted between the two. All the chapters started as short stories so they sort of stand alone. You can read them as short stories if you want to.

[LKBillips]

Yeah I think there should be a transition, and I would love to read the alternative ending! I Just finished Yogi Bear. I like how the characters are becoming more developed and you start to notice more of their quirks. I thought it was weird that this story followed the 2nd story as you mentioned the guy who had stolen food from back packers been caught already in the 2nd story and then the 3rd story was the actual story of them witnessing him being caught. Just something odd I noticed. But I like the community this group rolls with. Free thinking, enjoying the world, and just surviving sometimes. Interesting for sure!

[Miss Fedelm]

Thanks. I will fix that. I've been combing that stuff out but some is still there. These were all short stories at the start and there were a lot of these sorts of inconsistencies.

[barleygirl]

This is too long & unmanageable on a website such as this . . . just lost my first attempt at a review . . . I understand the book function is not good either. Your writing is strong in all the right ways. I feel I've read this before, so maybe your SB stories are sounding similar? Your stories are very interesting & worth reading, but I would not say compelling. I noticed that you don't modulate the intensity much. You just kinda plod along at the same frequency. No ups & downs or suspense or a quickening of intensity -- all the things that make a story more compelling. This feels autobiographical or like journaling. Since I also went to UCSB, I recognize so much in your stories, which is why I love reading them. But I'm not sure this is really becuz of the writing itself. As I said, the intensity is a little flat & there are parts where you get a little scientific & academic in a cerebral telling way (more than showing) & these are the parts where I feel like I'm plodding along waiting for the next burst of freshness that some dialogue (you do dialogue very well) brings. I'm going to send this before I lose it! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[LKBillips]

Pete, Suzanne and Bob- This was an interesting twist to the dynamic of the group. I like how even when the bad things happen they keep picking themselves up and pressing out to find new opportunities. Also, you posted this one twice in a row.

[LKBillips]

Travels with William--- I was wondering when those two would finally get together! I like her dad's way of putting it. There were a couple of writing errors...as in to instead of too, and every instead of ever, but this one was very well written and captivating. It had a lot of different avenues that it took you down, but I didn't get lost by them. I think William has more to tell us though. His partner and him have a gut wrenching story that I'm sure can be expanded on. When am I going to get to one with a happy ending? All your stories end with either not finding out if the guy lived, no airplane for Molly, someone getting arrested, and the disapproval of Mom...argh. The next one I just know it! :)

[Miss Fedelm]

Thanks. I was worried that this one might be boring. It's long with very little drama. Basically, just a road trip.

[LKBillips]

Before there were Cell Phones-- Wow what a crazy adventure that turned out to be. I could feel myself panting as they made their way up the mountain. Kind of sad that they never made it to the top, but very cool that they saved that guy. Oh man when they woke up surrounded by wild donkeys looking at them...straight out of the twilight zone. Very interesting read!

[Miss Fedelm]

This was a true story. It was easy to write. Not much imagination required. Thanks for the review. Your reviews are very helpful.

[Miss Fedelm]

I really mean it when I say your reviews are helpful. I have the day free tomorrow and most of what I have planned is fixing stuff you pointed out. I also have another 40 pages of the book, but I'll sit on that a little more. I can think of possible problems with it, so I don't want it up yet.

[LKBillips]

So which character are you?

[Miss Fedelm]

I'm not really any of them. Most of them were friends mine when I was living in Santa Barbara.

[Coyote Poetry]

A wonderful story written. Great characters and interesting story line. I liked the flow of the story. Easy to understand and entertaining to read. Thank you Miss Fedelm for sharing the amazing story.
Coyote

[Miss Fedelm]

Thank you for reading. If you read the whole thing, then you are the first person to read it that isn't paying me or sleeping with me.

[Coyote Poetry]

Was a long read and when I saw your name. I must read. I love your work. I need to create characters like you do. You are welcome my friend.