house.
Which was spectacular.
The Dysons’ place was like something out of a home decorating magazine.
Maureen thought their house had quite a view, but it was nothing compared to their hosts'. The sun had still not set completely, and the fire-red sky illuminated hundreds of miles of forests and canyons, little opalescent glints in the landscape marking tin-roofed ranch houses, miner's shacks, and windmills. Below them, the town of Corban was shrouded in shadow from the surrounding hills and mountains, and lights were blinking on in downtown buildings. It was a breathtaking panorama that put to shame any postcard shot she'd ever seen, and the line of windows that made up the south-facing wall of the Dysons’ living room and overlooked this magnificent vista curved gracefully in an almost perfect half-circle. The room itself was furnished rustically with lodgepole-pine tables and chairs, a southwestern print couch, and a glass-topped coffee table with a tree stump base.
They went from there to the kitchen. It was huge, with an indoor grill built into the Mexican-tiled island between the refrigerator and sink.
A greenhouse window faced the side of the property and a terraced garden. There was a gigantic pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove, and the entire room smelled deliciously of garlic and onion and spices.
The master bedroom, guest bedroom, and den were sparsely and tastefully furnished, and Maureen found herself wondering where Ray and Liz kept all their... stuff. Where were the photographs of friends and family, the collected knicknacks , the tangible personal effects that represented their past? Had the two of them simply thrown out the accumulations of their East Coast life when they moved out here? It didn't make any sense, but it seemed so. She and Barry had more junk in one room than the Dysons seemed to have in then- entire house, and it was hard to believe that two such homey old people were so completely unsentimental.
But it was not her place to wonder, and as they walked back out to the living room, she complimented their hosts on having such a beautiful house.
Liz smiled graciously. 'Thank you.'
Ray grinned. 'Sure beats Hackensack.' He patted Maureen's arm, motioned for Barry to come and look at his new wide screen TV, and as the two men started talking electronics, Maureen followed Liz into the kitchen.
The older woman removed a checkered apron from a hook on the pantry door and put it on, and Maureen had to smile. She'd never seen anyone actually wear an apron outside of movies and early television programs, and the gesture seemed quaint and endearingly old-fashioned.
Liz stirred the spaghetti sauce and looked over at her. 'So do you have a job outside the house, or are you a full time homemaker?'
'I'm an accountant.'
Liz's face lit up. 'Really? Me too! I was an auditor back in New Jersey. Doyle, Bell, and McCammon . Thirty years. What's your specialty?'
'Taxes, primarily, although I handle some payroll and related accounts.
I'm an EA, although that's not something that often comes up.'
'I bet it helps to lure in the clients, though.'
Maureen laughed. 'It doesn't hurt.'
'Well, well, well. Another accountant.' The older woman shook her head, smiling. 'It'll be nice to have someone to talk to who speaks the same language.'
Maureen had been thinking exactly the same thing. She liked Liz, and it was a load off her shoulders that the first woman she met in Utah was not some backward small town hick but worldly, smart, and sophisticated. She'd had visions of having to condescend to her companions, feigning interest in church bingo games and soap operas in order to have someone to talk with, and the fact that she'd met someone who was not only intelligent but had a background similar to her own filled her with relief.
The older woman walked over to the refrigerator, took out a head of lettuce and several plastic bags filled with vegetables, and Maureen asked if she could help. She was assigned the job of peeling cucumbers, and the two of them stood side-by-side in front of the long counter, preparing salad to accompany dinner--or 'supper,' as Liz called it.
They talked of trivialities, the safe subjects broached tentatively by two people just starting to get to know each other and not wanting to offend unfamiliar sensibilities. Despite the difference in age, they were more alike than not, both of them gardeners, both avid readers, both hardcore fans of the Home & Garden channel, and Maureen found herself opening up. She asked Liz about their predecessors, the people who had lived in the house before she and Barry moved in, but Liz said she hadn't known the couple very well.
No one had. They weren't there long, less than nine months, and they kept pretty much to themselves. They'd come and gone without making a ripple, and the house had been empty for over a year since then.
The family before that was something else entirely. The Haslams --a husband, wife, and two sons--had been one of the first families in Bonita Vista, well known and well liked, and their departure had caused a stir. The family had practically disappeared, moving out suddenly in the middle of the night. They'd never returned, never called, never communicated with anyone else in the neighborhood again, something entirely out of character for them, particularly for the mother, Kelli, whom Liz knew quite well. Maureen thought to herself that it was a scenario consistent with the panic and paranoia of the note they'd discovered in the closet, and she told Liz about the warning, describing the way Barry had come upon it while cleaning and the creepy feeling she'd gotten reading the hyperbolic words. Ray walked in at that moment to refresh his and Barry's drinks, and he frowned as he listened to Maureen's description.
'That doesn't sound like Ted or Kelli.'
'No, it doesn't,' Liz said. 'But Maureen's right. It fits in with their disappearance. Or at least it sounds like something that people fleeing in the middle of the night would write.' She turned back toward Maureen. 'You didn't save the note?'
'No. It was over a week ago, and I had Barry throw it away. I didn't want it in the house.'
'You think Ted was doing something ... illegal?' Ray asked his wife.
Liz shrugged. 'You knew him better than I did. I was close to Kelli and the kids, but I didn't know Ted that well.'
'He was into computers,' Ray explained. 'He had some type of job with a defense contractor, debugging systems. Wasn't home that much. Spent a lot of time in Salt Lake City.' He finished pouring the drinks and picked up the glasses. 'I suppose that kind of job would make anyone paranoid. It just... doesn't sound like Ted.'
'Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you.'
'Maybe they were out to get him.'
'Who?'
'I don't know. The government? Maybe he was selling secrets or something. Who knows?'
Maureen turned toward Liz as Ray left the kitchen and returned to the living room. 'But why would Ted or his wife try to warn us? If he'd done something wrong and the authorities were after him, it doesn't follow that the next residents of the house would be in danger.'
'None of it makes any sense. The whole thing's strange.'
Maureen recalled the spooky feeling she'd had reading the fervent words of the note. 'Yes,' she said, 'it is.'
They finished making the salad, Liz put a pot of water on the stove to boil, and the two of them walked back out to the living room to join the men.
'How would you feel about a party?' Liz asked, sitting down on the couch. 'Sort of a 'get acquainted' get- together with some of our neighbors. Some of our more normal neighbors.'
Maureen looked over at Barry. 'That would be fun. We don't know anyone here, except you and Ray, and it'd be nice to meet people.'
Barry nodded.
'Good. We'll set it up.'
The rest of the evening passed by quickly, and Liz called the next day to find out if the following night was too short notice for the party.
