Under a Spell and Over the Moon

"Good morning Mr. Oberon. How was your drive into the city this morning?"

"Horrid -- perfectly horrid. As usual." My curt reply to Miss Goodfellow's greeting was unwarranted. I was nervous and ill at ease as I stepped from the elevator into the rich, dark wood paneled foyer.

"Forgive me Robin, the drive up from San Jose is never pleasant. I find it all the more wretched this time of day. I didn't mean to snarl at you; but to be honest, it was perfectly horrid."

I got a pleasant smile from Miss Goodfellow, dispensing the forgiveness which I had sought from her.

I smiled back in appreciation of her grace and pleasantries. In return, Miss Goodfellow beamed a warm and a calming look in my direction, "Well I presume that your perfectly horrid trip into the city on this one occasion will be worth it. I trust you will find ample reward to compensate you for any and all past frustrations and indignities, no matter how perfectly horrid your travels have been." Her voice and the kind features of her face put me somewhat at ease.

Miss Goodfellow opened the pair of heavy wooden doors centered with thick, beveled glass as she motioned for me to follow. She held the door for me, "Mr. Kelly is waiting for your arrival. It's a big day. We are all so pleased for you Mr. Oberon." As I passed her, I measured my frame against hers; flatfooted she was probably six-two, the heels on her suede boots added another two inches, giving her about three inches on me.

I raised my chin and caught the eye of Mr. Kelly's statuesque assistant, "Yes. Yes indeed, quite a big day; thanks to you and Mr. Kelly and everyone else." I detected the light scent of magnolia and I was once again struck by the beauty of her thick hair, the color of red cedar bark, brushed back and hanging to her waist. It was gathered in a barrette in the design of an intricate Celtic knot. Miss Goodfellow was an ample reward for my trip into the city this morning. She always welcomed me with grace and an even demeanor. I liked Robin.

Miss Goodfellow deflected my appreciation of her and Mr. Kelly, "Mr. Oberon it has been said by more than a few that you're a genius. And I know that this is a culmination of years of hard work. Mr. Kelly and his staff claim no such credit. We just made a few calls, talked to the right people in the right places and asked everyone to sign a mountain of documents. The credit goes to you Mr. Oberon." Robin had always been quite complimentary to me.

I had not always been received this way at Kelly, Alioto & Theseus. Code writers and software architecture types are a dime a dozen in these parts and easy to dismiss. Every software developer in Silicon Valley is secretly working on the next big thing -- or so we convince ourselves. It's not quite so easy to convince the venture capital guys that our ideas are worthy of their investment. Much less that our accumulated hours through sleepless nights of coding should be rewarded with heaps of gold or bitcoin. Once upon a time I was counted among the great unwashed and unappreciated multitude of software developers and designers. I guess as of this morning, I can now be counted among the lucky ones.

With two solid raps on the floor-to-ceiling solid wood double doors, Miss Goodfellow signaled to her boss that I had arrived. "Come in, come in," a voice bellowed from within the inner sanctum. Miss Goodfellow opened a single door as Winslow Kelly rose from his chair behind his desk with his arm extended in greeting, wearing a broad, professional smile. Miss Goodfellow followed me in and stood a respectful pace or two behind me as I clasped Mr. Kelly's hand and shook it.

I had grown accustomed to the dim, windowless converted garage in San Jose where I toiled with my computer code, developing and testing applications. And sometimes I managed to find some sleep in those dim confines. This rarefied, well-lit and spacious environment of Mr. Kelly's office had me ill at ease. I was unsure of what to expect or how I was to act under the circumstances. I backed up a step, about to take a seat in one of the high wingbacked leather chairs facing out the large window behind Mr. Kelly's desk, looking across the bay with a view of Angel Island and Alcatraz.

"Just a moment Mr. Oberon," Mr. Kelly indicated that I should remain standing, "We've got a little something for you to mark this grand occasion."

I remained standing, "Please Mr. Kelly, I'd prefer to be called Monty. This Mister Oberon stuff makes me feel like I am more important than I really am."

Mr. Kelly nodded his head, "So it is. Monty, we have a little something to mark this grand occasion." He reached to open the center drawer of his desk and pulled out a thin wooden case. Miss Goodfellow stepped to the side of the desk to watch the presentation. With a modest bow, Mr. Kelly handed me the slim case.

I looked at the polished, solid walnut rectangle resting in my hand. I ran my fingers over the smooth, elegant surface and read my name, Fremont M. Oberon engraved in script and inlaid with gold leaf. I asked, "What's this?"

"Go ahead. Open it," Mr. Kelly instructed. I twisted it in my hand, looking for the hinges to indicate the top of the handsome case. I turned it over and back a time or two, not seeing any hinges or a way into the box.

Miss Goodfellow noticed my puzzled predicament, "Try pushing in from the end Mr. Oberon."

I gave her a sideways look; she smiled sweetly and corrected herself for my sake, "Monty, try opening it by pushing on the end to slide out the center."

I pushed on the end and the center of the case slid out easily. I looked back at Robin and smiled, "And somebody thought that I was some kind of genius. What kind of genius is stumped by simple wooden box?"

"Perhaps a very well-to-do one," interjected Mr. Kelly.

I saw a gold plated pen sitting in a green silk liner. I pulled the pen out of its crafted container and held it in my hand. I looked at Mr. Kelly, "Thanks," I said in an uncertain voice.

"That 24 karat ink pen will be the instrument used to set you up for life this morning. It will be used to sign your way to a handsome sum, a tribute to your hard and high quality work Monty. Presenting a golden pen to close the deal has long been a tradition here at Kelly, Alioto & Theseus."

Mr. Kelly motioned for me to take a seat. He then pursed his lips in thought and suggested, "Perhaps we'll need a new tradition, one that fits better with the times. I guess high tech innovators such as yourself don't do a lot of pen and pencil work anymore; it's all digital keyboards, chrome and titanium and silicon chips in these times. You've made me think that our ink pens and wooden boxes have gone the way of the coachwhip."

Mr. Kelly took a seat in his executive chair once he'd finished musing. I twirled the heavily weighted pen in my fingers admiring it and running my fingers over the surface of its wooden case. "No Mr. Kelly, don't be so quick to change your traditions, at least not on my behalf. On the contrary, I like things made of wood. I find a piece of well-crafted wood such as this pen's case to possess a simple elegance and sincerity. I believe there is a life force found in trees and I believe wood has soul. All of this plastic, chrome and titanium that we use in my work are, in my opinion, utilitarian and without soul. The electronic circuitry and motherboards that are so prolific these days have made for a throw-away world. In a way it's a shame. No Mr. Kelly, I like wood. Don't throw away your traditions. I like my wood case and ink pen. I like your tradition."

Mr. Kelly listened with his finger tips folded at his lips, and then agreed, "Very well said Monty." He turned to Miss Goodfellow, "I believe we are ready to have Mr. Oberon make use of the traditional gold pen and consummate this deal. Robin, would you please bring in the documents for Monty to sign." With that he dismissed Miss Goodfellow.

She returned with a slim leather-bound folder and placed it before Mr. Kelly. Mr. Kelly opened the folder and spread three papers before me. He explained what the documents were for and pointed to the lines where my signatures would close the deal. I whipped my signatures across the base of each of the three documents. That was it. It was a big deal. It seemed like this, the final step, was too easy. A few simple strokes of the hand is that all it took to make me a millionaire? It didn't seem real.

I pushed the signed documents across the desk. Mr. Kelly collected them and placed them inside the folder and set it aside. He stood to extend his arm across the desk; I took his hand as he beamed, "Congratulations Monty."

I returned my thanks, "Thank you Mr. Kelly; my thanks to you and your staff and especially to Miss Goodfellow. I had no idea how to get my ideas in front of the right people. Thanks for your skills in negotiating on my behalf. This is certainly an outcome that exceeded my wildest dreams and schemes."

Mr. Kelly mused, "Perhaps you should thank your fairy godmother, this deal came together like no other which I've ever been a part of. Everything went right, or better than right, as if you and your computer code were embedded with a charmed fairy spell or something. Now that we've closed, I can tell you some of the amazing details."

"Monty, it all unfolded like a fairy tale. We had our experts look at what you had developed and they all thought it was worth in the five hundred to six hundred million dollar range. We reached out to our venture capital contacts and told them what you had developed and after lengthy due diligence on their investor's part, they came back to us and asked what you wanted. We started high, almost double from where we thought we'd settle after tough negotiations. They took our first offer, like I say, that doesn't happen, except in fairy tales. As a result, at this moment you are worth nine hundred and sixty-nine million -- before taxes, which we will be happy to handle for you."

Feeling like I was finished with my business at Kelly, Alioto & Theseus, I wanted to leave. I got the sense out of social obligation that I should linger a little longer. I returned to my seat and crossed my legs in awkward silence.

Miss Goodfellow had taken a seat in a chair at the side of the desk. She too offered her congratulations, "You should be very pleased that your hard work and ingenious solutions have been so well received, as I believe they should be. Mr. Kelly believes this deal reads like a fairy tale and I have a hunch that this is the beginning to something that will turn out - as they say after all good fairy tales, happily ever after." Robin gave me a different kind of smile from her usual countenance of charm, grace and pleasantries; this was the smile of someone who knew a secret. I wanted to believe her.

Miss Goodfellow asked, "Gentlemen, would either of you enjoy something to drink and perhaps offer up a toast to Monty's success?" Robin glanced at me and then at her boss.

Mr. Kelly deferred to me for an answer. "I'll pass; I'm headed out of town right after this, nothing before my trip, thank you Miss Goodfellow."

"Before you leave, might I inquire as to what the 'M' in your name between Fremont and Oberon stands for?" asked Winslow Kelly.

"The 'M' is for Muir. I was named after John Muir, the naturalist. You know I always wanted to live up to that middle name, I thought that I'd be a forest ranger or a botanist. Sometimes I get this weird calling to be some kind of lord of the forest, a master of the woodlands. I never saw technology as a career. Strange how things just happen, things that you never planned or thought of... and then it turns out that all of a sudden, like the wave of a magic wand in a fairy tale, I'm worth millions."

"Like you said Mr. Kelly, this deal has been like a fairy tale for me too. It has been like one of those fairy tales where a lost and forgotten prince has been turned into a frog and is living in the swamp; or in my case turned into a programmer living in a dark garage with four other guys in a small house. And then one day, he is no longer a frog or a programmer, he is a prince, or at least paid like one. This has been a fairy tale for me as well."

Mr. Kelly enjoyed my frog to prince, garage troglodyte to multimillionaire analogy. Even highfalutin attorneys wanted to hear and believe that sometimes fantastical fairy tales really happen. I was flesh and blood confirmation that fairy tales can come true. "Allow me to say once again, well done Fremont Muir Oberon. Monty, you say you're immediately off on a trip; where does someone of your status choose to go?" Winslow Kelly offered, "Let me guess, you're going to the Orient to find your true self in the study of philosophy?"

I paused and turned to Robin Goodfellow and met her eyes, she could read the question I had in mine. Robin gave me a nod, indicating it was all right to fill in Mr. Kelly on my plans. "No, I'm not going east. I'm driving north, north to the Cascade Range. When it began to look like this deal was going to come together, I mentioned my desire to Miss Goodfellow to get out of Silicon Valley. I needed a very remote place, far away from this crowded, crazy, overpriced and self-indulgent mess. I just wanted a piece of forest or a woodland place where I could be my own lord and master of all that I surveyed. That's my one desire."

"Miss Goodfellow suggested that I contact a broker whom she knew. She thought her well-placed contact could help me in my quest. Thanks to Miss Goodfellow, I have just purchased a remote piece of wildness. I'm going to go get a look at it, now that this is all done."

Mr. Kelly looked at his trusted assistant, "Robin, do you think freelancing on a real estate transaction for one of our valued clients is the proper thing to do?"

Miss Goodfellow smiled at her boss, full of grace and charm, "Mr. Oberon had engaged me in conversation and shared his one, true desire. I had some contacts that would handle Mr. Oberon's search quite well if he chose to follow up on my suggestion. May I suggest that providing helpful information to a valued client, once I was solicited, is just the kind of enhanced service for which the firm of Kelly, Alioto & Theseus is known and admired. Is it not Mr. Kelly?"

I jumped in, "Miss Goodfellow's perfectly kind and professional suggestion was personally appreciated by me. I don't think anyone other than her contact would have found this perfect piece of paradise. I was enchanted by the photos as soon as I saw it. The land had just become available, it is covered in old growth timber because the basaltic terrain is too rough for logging and it is very remote. In fact there are no roads into this tract. I'll pack in on foot. I think you should give Miss Goodfellow a raise for her selective connections and her wise advice to one valued and grateful client. The place is perfect, it's like a fairy tale come true, if you will Mr. Kelly."

Mr. Kelly's response was a small, good natured laugh, "I'll take the words of a valued and grateful client under consideration."

We shook hands again and Miss Goodfellow escorted me out of Mr. Kelly's office. I followed in her fragrant, magnolia scented slipstream and watched her hair, the color of old growth cedar bark sway as she walked me to the elevator. With a charming and knowing secret smile on her lips she spoke to me, "Mr. Kelly trusts me and treats me quite well; but thanks for your words back there. Monty, I know you will enjoy your remote tract of woodland wilderness. I have a hunch that your piece of paradise will place you in a position to live happily ever after; it's a fitting phrase to finish every good fairy tale, especially yours." And echoing Mr. Kelly's earlier observation; "Remember, someday you may wish to thank your fairy godmother for all of these unfolding blessings. Enjoy the journey Monty." She gave me a wink and pressed the button to summon my elevator down to the ground floor and out of the city.

*****

I lost the signal for my handheld device miles back, the GPS and a variety of other geolocation apps were of no use. I was heartened to find that I was in a place that had no signal. I was off the grid. I would have to resort to paper maps and charts like explorers of old. I imagined myself going back into a simpler and distant time as I jolted along on Forest Service and abandoned logging roads into a timbered old growth and pristine land, a small part of which I now claimed as my own.

The strenuous half-day hike from where I left my car had me thirsty and hungry. My camp was soon pitched and an early evening meal was cooked over an open fire at the mouth of the small canyon that was scratched out of overgrown, weather volcanic flows split by towering cedars, firs and hemlocks. I was impatient to explore the shadowed reaches of the canyon, but I was content to listen to the flow of crystal water as the twilight lingered long at this latitude during the middle of June. I would explore my new land in the morning light after a good, decompressing and recuperative sleep on the verge of paradise. For now, I was ready to take my rest at the edge of a deep and primordial forest. I prepared my bag for the night with the feeling that I would be sleeping on the threshold of a portal that opened back into an ancient earth and its forest primeval.

Beneath arching shadows cast from moonlight's silver beams, I made my bed. The swaying evergreen grove above me whispered sweet lullabies that drew me into slumbers which were deep and brought me dreams which were pleasant. In my dream I saw stars from heaven filter through the tree tops and circle around the edge of my camp. There were a dozen little star lights, maybe half again as many, that twinkled and glowed as they made the sound of babbling waters. The lights danced and flowed, circling about me, imitating the excited sounds of a flowing stream as it caresses the rounded stones in its bed as it rushes over them on its way to the sea.

The dance of the tiny lights amongst the forest shadows had an enchanting effect on me as I watched them through my dream-kept eyes. The lights would approach me and then they would sweep back into the shadows with a rush of excited murmuring. This strange dream made me curious about these dainty stars twirling in the shadows and I had the thought to rise and chase after them; but as soon as I thought about leaping into action, I was overcome by heavy eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

My dream came back to me, I know not after how much time had gone by, and I saw the circle of twinkling lights gather at the base of a magnificent cedar, casting a silver glow on its trunk. I dreamed that as I watched the braided, reddish bark of this cedar's trunk, I saw the bark's pleated texture transform into the hair of Mr. Kelly's executive assistant, Robin Goodfellow. In my dream I was pleased to see Miss Goodfellow and she was pleased to see me, giving me a graceful and charming smile as she emerged with transcending ease from the cedar's massive textured trunk.

As Miss Robin Goodfellow wandered into my dream, I was delighted to see that she was not wearing clothing, or not what I would recognize as clothing. Yet she was covered by something that somehow seemed as if it was made of nothing. Robin stood at the base of her cedar as I cast my dreaming eyes upon her. Her gown was diaphanous silver, woven of moonbeams and trimmed with the first rays of dawn. Her long, auburn hair draped elegantly over her ample breasts, making their hidden presence all the more attractive to me. I let my gaze drop in slow appreciation of her form, watching her gown shimmer like moonlight on water. I drank in her smooth, milky flesh through my eyes, following her perfect feminine form up from her thighs, across her contoured belly and up the cascading locks which flowed from her crown, covering her breasts.