When Ordinary Isn't Ch. 05

"Because of my history, when I met your friend, I was very, very careful to keep all of this behind me and just be myself as much as I could be. The connection I felt with her for those two days was bizarrely real and bizarrely comforting, and it kind of hurt that we both decided to simply part company. But it was a choice we made together. It felt good to know there are, indeed, genuinely selfless women in this world.

"When we flew back here from Oklahoma, there was just something that happened. My heart sang, Mrs. Moore. It sang !

"It was the final nail in the coffin of my doubt. I knew there was no way I was being chased for this stuff." He gestured his hands around him. "Then, she showed me she has plenty of stuff of her own.

"I think the door swung both ways. She kept parts of herself hidden as well, so she knew I wasn't chasing her for her wealth any more than she was chasing me for mine.

"Yeah. I've fallen for her because she's genuine. She's the real deal. She's brilliant, probably more than me. She's beautiful on so many levels. And… if nothing else happens, I'm still glad to pave an opportunity at which she might excel."

Stephanie observed him for a few moments. Satisfied with his answers, she asked Eric to show her back to her car.

"Thank you for rescuing me and for the ride here," he said, offering his hand.

"I get the impression that you're a good person. It was my pleasure."

She turned toward her car but stopped herself on the sidewalk. "Hey. Just to let you know, if you hurt her, I will find you and seriously mess you up."

"Of that, ma'am, I have no doubt," he said with an honestly meek smile as Stephanie climbed into her car. He watched as she pulled out of the parking spot and drove away.

"Monica, let's go," he said as he passed her in the hangar.

"You got it, sir," she said in a chipper voice when she caught the contagious joy and happiness Eric was exuding. The two pilots followed Eric up the airstairs. The Citation was off the ground five minutes later and landed in Oklahoma at 2:07pm.

Eric drove his Silverado to his house, unpacked one bag and packed another. He sat at a table for twenty minutes calculating numbers and double checking the weather. He filed a VFR flight plan with the FAA using an online portal.

Before grabbing his things and heading right back to the airport, he packed a lunch into his flight bag consisting of a ham and turkey sandwich, a small bag of potato chips, an apple, and a 20-ounce bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. He didn't ordinarily choose diet drinks, but due to an over-fizz incident at altitude and having to spend hours cleaning up the sticky mess after he'd landed, he never opened a sugar-sweetened drink in his aircraft again.

On his way, he dropped a number of items at the dry cleaner and stashed the ticket in the clip on the window visor as a reminder to pick them up on his return.

His Skylane was already chocked in front of the hangar, fully fueled. Even though he knew Kevin had just finished its annual checkout, Eric, following his training and discipline, always performed a thorough walk-around and preflight inspection. It required only ten minutes to complete.

He started the engine, letting it idle to warm the oil and give the vacuum-powered standby gyros time to stabilize. He listened to the ATIS broadcast in his headset. After he'd transcribed all the relevant information onto his knee board, he radioed the ground controller for his departure clearance and taxi instructions.

He taxied to the designated run-up area and completed his pre-takeoff checklist.

"Rogers tower, Skylane seven echo romeo holding short of one seven right, ready to go."

"Skylane seven echo romeo, hold short one seven right for arriving Gulfstream Five on a four-mile final. You'll be next."

"Holding short at one seven, seven echo romeo."

Eric watched a GV, beautifully painted in deep blue and black, pass in front of him. It touched down a thousand feet down the runway and exited more than a half mile farther. He thought about his Citation and wondered what Peggy's favorite colors were.

"Skylane seven echo romeo, one seven right, cleared for takeoff," said a faceless individual over the radio.

"Cleared for takeoff one seven right, seven echo romeo," Eric acknowledged.

Eric pushed the throttle slightly forward and followed the yellow lead line onto the center of the almost two-mile-long stretch of pavement, then set the throttle to maximum. He was airborne ten seconds later and flying south.

The tower handed him off to departure control immediately. They monitored his flight for the first fifteen minutes before handing him off to Fort Worth Center for the remainder.

The flight was completely ordinary with only a little chop due to the mild heat of the afternoon. Eric eschewed the use of the autopilot, preferring to hand-fly to keep his skills honed. The light turbulence meant no issue when he carefully opened his soda and began eating his late lunch.

He landed on a black asphalt strip an hour and fifteen minutes after he'd departed OKC. He taxied his plane to its hangar and pulled the mixture back to cut-off, exited, and stowed the craft inside.

He heard the sound of feet behind him as he finished locking things up.

"Sophie!" he yelped when he saw her running toward him.

"Oh, jeez !" He laughed happily as she lavished his entire face uninhibitedly. He stroked her raven-black silk along her neck, all the way down her back.

"Sheesh! What a welcome. I love you, too, baby," he said, kissing her forehead while holding her head in his hands. He stroked her shoulders, all the way down her back, then firmly patted her rump.

"I swear, Eric, I've never seen anyone so dog-crazy in my life," the manager of Eric's ranch said.

"Oh, I'm not crazy. I just missed my pooch is all. Isn't that right, Sophie? Huh? Huh ?" he spoke energetically.

The sound of his voice made the canine wag her tail excitedly. Her hips could hardly keep it in check, and she pistol-whipped his knee.

"Ouch, girl!" he laughed. "Go on, go get your ball," he told her, and she sprinted away.

"Mickey, my friend, how's things here?" Eric asked.

"Pretty much the same old thing."

"Oh. So no change with Starlet?"

"Nothin' much other than she foaled this morning."

"You jerk." Eric laughed. "Where are they?"

"I put Mama in a pen on the northwest corner of the north section. Want to go see her new colt?" he asked, jangling the keys to a four-wheeled utility vehicle he'd parked next to the hangar when he saw the plane approaching.

"Give me those," he said, snatching the keys from him.

Sophie came running with a tennis ball in her mouth and, without needing to be told, jumped into the back bench seat of the ATV her master had already climbed into.

After driving to the main house where Eric deposited his bags, they drove for about ten minutes along several well-maintained gravel roads.

"Oh. My. Gosh," Eric said as the vehicle approached. He killed the engine, deciding to walk the last thirty yards to avoid alarming the new foal and dam. "He's a handsome little devil."

"Yeah. Beautiful coat. Strong, too. He was upright and on a teat in less than a half hour, and started bounding around getting used to those long legs after about another hour."

"Oh, good boy," Eric whispered to no one. "Starlet's just standing around?"

"No. She's been moving him, encouraging a trot. She's a good mare."

Eric felt Sophie nudging his knee. He accepted the ball from her mouth and threw it into an adjacent down-sloping pasture as far as he could. Sophie bore after it, easily jumping through the pipe and cable fence to retrieve the ball, running full gait back to him. She knew to give a horse she passed a wide berth because she'd been kicked at before.

With his cellphone, Eric took a few photos of his new colt and its mother. He'd send them to Peggy when his phone was back in range of the tower.

"C'mon, Sophie. Let's go," he said as she returned from the powerful run.

"You're not going to believe who I met a few weeks ago when I was in Florida," Eric said as they began the drive back to the ranch house.

"Tell me."

"The woman who owns that land," he said, pointing to the north then west.

"There's lots of different farms over there."

"They're all leasing from her. She still owns it all."

"You're joking." He chuckled. "You met Mitchell Foreman's daughter?"

"You knew him?"

"Of course I knew him. My dad worked his ranch for almost thirty years." He laughed. "What was her name," Mickey said to himself, snapping his fingers as he concentrated. "Maggie?"

"Close. Margaret."

"I think she spent most of her time out in California before the Foremans passed on. She was a cute beanpole of a kid. You just happened to stumble across her in Florida?" Mickey asked with incredulity evident in his voice.

"Almost literally. But I only discovered who she was a few days ago. You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain it," Eric said.

"I've never had much reason to go talk to the neighbors short of letting them know when a fence was down, or finding their livestock in these pastures."

"Did you know two of the Foreman thoroughbreds won the Preakness?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, I think I remember something about that. No surprise, really, they used to turn out a lot of good horses before he started shutting down."

"I thought you'd appreciate a good coincidence."

"Trust me. I'm turning sixty-five this year, and the world only gets smaller as you get older, young man," Mickey said, clapping Eric on his shoulder.

Eric pressed the gas a little farther. He was anxious to get settled in, but decided to pay a visit to another favorite member of the staff at the ranch house. Mickey headed his own way on the ATV to tend to business elsewhere on the property. An enticing aroma met Eric as he entered.

"Hola , Mister Eric!" his supervising housekeeper greeted him in the hallway.

"¿Cómo estás, Izzie ?" he said, hugging her.

"Mui bien , Mister Eric, gracias . Are you hungry? I am making tamales for dinner, but I can fix you something now, if you want?"

"No, but thank you. I ate lunch in my plane, but I'm definitely looking forward to dinner. That's why I came here to see you. It always smells so good in here when you're cooking."

"Gracias . You are too nice. You like some iced tea?"

"Yes, please. That'd be great. Thank you, Izzie," he answered with a smile before he took his phone out of his pocket to make a call.

His friend answered, "Eric, what the hell? Where on Earth have you been? You've got to tell me about the woman I spoke to on the phone a few days ago."

"Any chance you would want to come down here tonight and spend a day or two?"

"You're at your ranch?"

"Yep."

"Yeah. I can definitely do that."

"Awesome. What time should I expect you?"

"Give me an hour to get home and pack some things, an hour give or take in the air. Say about 7:30?"

"Perfect. Save room for dinner. Izzie's making tamales."

"Oh, awesome. Her tamales are my favorite," Lance answered.

"Okay, my friend, see you in a bit. Fly safe."

Eric had a thought. "Oh! You think you could bring a bottle of your secret sauce?"

"It's going to be that kind of weekend, huh?"

"I sure as hell hope so." Eric chuckled. "It's been a while."

"Count on me," he concluded and disconnected the call.

"Izzie, Lance Marlin is flying down. I told him you're making tamales."

"Yes, sir. I'll have plenty. He can take some with him to home."

"I'll also need one of the guestrooms made up," he added.

"Okay, Mister Eric. I'll have Alejandra see to it," she said as she added more corn husks to the pot of warm water in which many were already soaking.

Eric pulled a two-way radio from the charging base.

"Mickey, Eric," he spoke into it.

"Go, sir."

"Lance Marlin is flying down tonight. He should be here by seven thirty. Can you have someone push my plane into a corner instead of the middle of the hangar to make room for his bird?"

"I'll get it taken care of."

Eric double-pinged the transmit key in acknowledgment.

More than a half dozen full-time staff worked on his ranch. Izzie and her daughter, Alejandra, tended to the houses. The ranch house was the domain of the staff which boarded there. Three employees reported to Mickey and assisted with the livestock and ranch operations. Dalton was a general handyman who tended to all things electrical, mechanical, and structural. Eric genuinely hoped none of his staff realized just how good they were at their jobs because they'd be sniped away in a heartbeat if they weren't happy employees. Eric paid them a wage which was more than fair. There were also a handful of part-timers who didn't reside on the property. They would come as required.

Eric lived in the main house which was constructed almost immediately after he bought the property. It was situated a few hundred yards from the ranch house. Eric's architect wisely thought the structure needed to stand apart both physically and visually from the original which had been built by Mitchell Foreman in the early '80s. It also contained an office which Mickey and Dalton used frequently.

The main house's more modern and upscale appearance gave the impression to visitors and passers-by that the farm was productive and profitable, which it was. Eric, though, wanted the interior to be simple and efficient and not too opulent. The architect and interior designers succeeded in his desires for compromise.

Eric sat at the kitchen table of the ranch house as Izzie worked. He sipped from a tall glass of her perfectly brewed iced tea and read the newspaper to try to begin the process of resting his mind. Sophie settled comfortably next to his feet.

The enticing and pleasant aromas in the kitchen increased as Izzie began to shred the pork shoulder she'd just ladled out of a richly seasoned stock pot on the cooktop.

As he read, a saucer holding a forkful of meat appeared.

"Tell me if it is tasting good," Izzie said.

He blew on the morsel to cool it and put it in his mouth.

"I don't know how you do it, Izzie. This is delicious, as always."

She smiled.

His phone chirped. The screen read, That's a gorgeous foal! Where is that?

Can you talk? he replied to Peggy.

His phone rang a few seconds later.

"Hey, beautiful," he said.

"Heya, yourself, baby. Where did you take the picture you sent a while ago?"

"I'm at the ranch. He's a new colt. One of our mares foaled this morning."

"He's a good-looking little guy."

"Isn't he?"

"I'm so sorry I had to run away from brunch," Peggy said.

"No. Don't be sorry for what you do, sweetie. Everything okay? I hope you weren't upset that I went ahead and flew back."

"I wish we could have had more time, but I'm not upset," she said. "I love the sound of your voice, you know," she whispered into her phone.

"Yeah? Well, I kinda like the sound of your voice, too. I love you. And, even though it was only six hours ago since I last kissed you, I already miss you. Terribly."

"Eric, shut up."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to make me weepy, and I'm about to scrub in to assist an orthopedic surgeon to place an intramedullary rod into a fourth-grader's femur," she said.

"God, Peggy, I'm sorry for getting in the way. I'll let you go. Call me when you can, okay?"

"Don't you be sorry, either. I wanted to call and talk to you for just a few minutes because it's looking like a late night so probably won't be able to talk to you again before tomorrow. Love you!" Peggy said then disconnected the call.

It was silent in the kitchen for several moments.

"Mister Eric?" Izzie said.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You have a big smile."

"Yeah?"

She chuckled. "You are in love?"

"Yes, ma'am. I am," he said with an increasing smile, and started working the crossword puzzle in The Times.

Less than an hour later, he heard Lance's voice on the scanner which he'd set to the CTAF frequency assigned to the area.

"Montague County traffic, Cirrus one seven eight lima mike at two-thousand four-hundred, five mile final for Reiter Ranch one seven."

"Izzie, I'm going to the hangar to meet Lance and we'll head to the other house from there."

"Okay, sir."

Eric walked out of the ranch house looking north. He saw the strobes and landing light of Lance's plane approaching the asphalt strip. His bird touched down one minute past 7:30.

He jogged to the hangar to help Lance secure his plane adjacent to his own.

They greeted each other with double fist-bumps.

"By special request," Lance said, handing Eric a charcoal-gray box which weighed about three pounds.

"Yeah, buddy! That's what I'm talkin' about." He grinned, checking out the box which contained a bottle of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel Select. Lance had purchased a barrel years earlier.

"So, when are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Lance asked, slinging his duffel over his shoulder as he buttoned up his Cirrus SR22 in the hangar.

"Come on. Let's get you set up at the house, eat some dinner, then get ducking frunk ."

"Whoa. It must be serious," Lance said with equal parts curiosity and hunger.

Izzie had placed a small steamer on the stove full of husk-wrapped treasures. There were two plates on the table along with dishes of black beans, cilantro rice, sliced avocado, and roasted tomatillo salsa. She'd already departed to make sure the staff was being fed.

"Oh, it must be Christmas," Lance cheered, lifting the lid from the steamer, smelling its contents.

He unwrapped a couple onto his plate and drizzled them with the salsa.

"She made extras for you to take home."

"Jeez, Eric, that woman is too good to me, and much too good for you."

"Don't I know it."

The two took care not to overindulge. They consumed just enough to satisfy their hunger, then just a little more.

When they were slightly more than sated, the remaining food was placed into packets, vacuum-sealed, and placed in the freezer. They adjourned to the den where Eric offered Lance a Padron Churchill from the humidor.

"Okay, Eric, what the hell is going on?" Lance asked after he'd punched a hole in the end of his cigar and began toasting its other end with a cedar match.

Eric had already snipped the end of his own before he uncorked a bottle of the best Tennessee whiskey he'd ever tasted. At the wet bar, he filled two rocks glasses full of ice and poured generous portions of whiskey into both.

"Come on," Eric said. "Let's go outside. If we smoke these in here, I'll never hear the end of it from Izzie and Alejandra."

"But you own the place," Lance challenged, "and they work for you."

Eric chuckled. "Yeah. It's just easier this way."

They sat on the enormous, covered patio and watched the edge of the sun disappear while they enjoyed their cigars and sipped on whiskey. Sophie, ever the loyal pooch, poked her master's best friend with her snout to offer Lance a tennis ball.

Lance chucked it. Sophie returned it to Eric, then alternated between the two.

As dusk gave way to night, an incredible array of stars began to appear. Sophie, contented and well-exercised, settled into a snooze near Eric's feet. The two men were on their way to becoming comfortably steeped.

"Alright, Eric," Lance said. "Enough with the delay tactics. Time for you to spill. What's going on?"

Eric sighed. "I think I've lost my mind."

"Try harder, man, because that's not news. I thought you'd gone bat-crap crazy when you told me you wanted to leave the company. Though your reasons were rock-solid, I still think you're nuts. Did you see our stock today? It was up another three percent, and we haven't even gone public with the triggered ion gallium arsenide process yet."