A Change in Altitude

Book 3: Eureka, Colorado

by Cindy Myers

Genres: Women's Fiction

Synopsis

In this latest novel from acclaimed author Cindy Myers, big changes are afoot in the warm-hearted small town of Eureka, Colorado. . .

With local Maggie Stevens' baby on the way--not to mention her wedding to Jameso Clark in the works--spring in Eureka promises to be a time of rebirth in more ways than one. To add to the excitement, and refill the town's depleted coffers, Lucille, the mayor, has wooed a movie producer to Eureka, throwing folks into a tizzy--and inspiring some to reach for the stars. As if that weren't enough, the bogus Lucky Lady mine the town partially sold turns out to really have gold in it--and possibly a ghost to boot. But with each silver lining, there seems to be a cloud. . .

With Eureka's financial future at stake, Lucille will have to wrangle Lucky Lady's greedy half-owner to regain control. Meanwhile, just as Jameso is getting comfortable with the imminent role of husband and father, his wayward sister, Sharon, comes to Eureka to escape a troubled marriage. Can the residents of Eureka find the courage to stand up to ghosts of all kinds and get their beloved town back on its feet in time to welcome their newest addition--and celebrate the gifts of spring. . .?

Praise for The View From Here

"Cindy Myers strikes gold with this warm-hearted novel about friendship, family, and second chances." --Deborah Smith, New York Times bestselling author

"I loved this novel!  It shines like a jewel. . .like solid gold." --Pamela Morsi, USA Today bestselling author

"This novel is definitely one to add to your keeper shelf."   ??RT Book Reviews, 4 1/2 Stars

"Myers has found an ideal setting in this goldmining backwater." --Publishers Weekly

Release date: June 24, 2014

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 328

Sample

“Mo-oooom!” The cry rose and fell with the intensity and pitch of a siren’s wail, and Sharon Franklin felt the same flood of adrenaline and worry that had once been her response to her infant’s wail.

Only now the infant was thirteen years old and glaring at her with the disdain only a teenager can muster.

“What’s wrong now?” Sharon asked, her hands tightening on the steering wheel of the Honda Civic. She’d been behind the wheel so long she feared her fingers would remain permanently bent, as if she were always trying to hang on to something that wasn’t there.

“You can’t be serious about staying here.” Alina, bangs she’d been growing out falling forward to half-cover one eye, glowered out the side window of the car at a row of false-fronted buildings on a dirt side street. “If you were so set on living in East Podunk, we could have stayed in Vermont.”

We could have stayed in Vermont with Dad and Adan, Sharon completed the thought, and her eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall. “You know we couldn’t stay in Vermont,” she said softly.

Alina glared at her but said nothing. Sharon turned the car down the side street and slowly rolled past a coin laundry, a hardware store, and a place that advertised hunting licenses, firearms, and fishing tackle. A skinny old man in canvas trousers and a brown plaid shirt emerged from the hardware store and openly stared as Sharon eased the car down the street. A shiver rippled up her spine as she felt his eyes on her. Maybe she’d made a mistake coming here. Maybe she and Alina would have been better off in the city. San Francisco, maybe. Or Dallas . . .

“Where are we going?” Alina asked.

“I’m just getting a feel for the layout of the town.” She turned left, onto another unpaved street, past a park and a trim white house with lilac bushes flanking the front door and a sign that indicated the library.

“We should go in the library and ask about Uncle Jay,” Alina said.

Sharon slowed the car and considered the idea. “My brother was never much of a reader,” she said.

“Yeah, but librarians know things. I’ll bet the librarian knows everybody in a small town like this. And they might have telephone books and stuff.”

“You’re right. That’s a good idea.” She stifled a sigh. Was she ready for this? Not just yet. “Let’s eat first. I think better on a full stomach.” The coffee and stale muffin she’d had at the motel this morning were a distant memory. And she could use another hour or two to gather her failing courage. When she’d set out on this journey, it had seemed like such a good idea—the strong, right thing to do for her and her daughter.

She wasn’t feeling very strong right now. She wanted someone else to tell her what she should do.

“Do you think they’ll have anything I can eat?” Alina wrinkled her nose. She’d become a vegetarian last year—a perfectly reasonable choice, Sharon thought, but her father and brother had given her nothing but grief about it. She had struggled all the way across the Midwest, eating mostly salads, French fries, and baked potatoes.

“I’m sure they’ll have something,” Sharon said.

“Where is there to eat in this town anyway?” Alina looked around. “Uh-oh.”

“What?” Sharon followed her daughter’s gaze to the black and white sheriff’s department cruiser that had pulled in behind her. The officer switched on his rotating overhead lights and she groaned, a surge of adrenaline flooding her with a rush of nausea and dizziness. Was he going to give her a ticket for idling her car in the middle of the otherwise deserted street?

She watched in the side mirror as he approached the car. He was young with short blond hair and dark sunglasses. His brown shirt and pants fit closely to a trim body. She rolled down her window and managed a weak smile. “Hello,” she said.

“Hello, ma’am.” He touched two fingers to the brim of his Stetson, a salute that was almost courtly. “I saw you stopped here in the street and thought you might need some help. Are you lost or having car trouble?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, I was just trying to get my bearings.” Her smile was more genuine now. “I just got to town.”

“Welcome to Eureka. I’m Sergeant Josh Miller, with the Eureka County Sheriff’s Department.” He offered his hand and she took it for a brief, firm squeeze.

“I’m Sharon Franklin. And this is my daughter, Alina.”

“Hi,” Alina said. “We’re looking for my uncle, Jay Clarkson. Do you know him?”

Sergeant Miller rubbed his jaw. He had big hands, with short, square fingers. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. But then, I’ve only been in town a month myself, so I don’t know a lot of people yet.”

That was good news anyway, Sharon thought. There was a time when Jay would have been on a first-name basis with most law enforcement in their town. And not in a good way. “It’s nice to meet another newcomer,” she said. “We’re thinking of relocating here.”

“Where are you from?”

“Vermont.”

“I’ve never been there, but I hear it’s pretty. Different mountains, though.”

Different was exactly what she wanted. “The Green Mountains are less rocky and, well, greener. But this looks pretty.”

“It’s a good place to live.” He had a kind smile, though she couldn’t read his eyes behind his sunglasses. She could use a little kindness, so she chose to believe the emotion was genuine. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked.

“Is there any place to eat that would have vegetarian food?” Alina asked.

“The Last Dollar Cafe has pretty much any kind of food you like,” he said. “And it’s all good.” He pointed ahead. “Just go to the corner here and turn left.”

“Thank you. It was nice meeting you.”

“Same here.” He took out a card case. “Here’s my card. If you need anything that’s not an emergency, you can reach me on that number.”

“Thanks.”

He hesitated and her heart pounded. For a fleeting moment, she was afraid he might ask for her number. She’d heard about western towns where the men so outnumbered the women that any single female was immediately popular. The last thing she wanted in her life right now was romance.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” he said. He tipped his cap again and walked back to his cruiser.

Relieved, Sharon rolled up the window, put the car in gear, and carefully pulled away. “He was nice,” Alina said.

“Yes.”

“Cute, too.”

“He was nice looking.” More importantly, he’d been a friendly—but not too friendly—face in a place that was foreign to her, the first to welcome her to what she hoped would be her new life. She pulled the car into a space in front of the Last Dollar Cafe. Was the name a sign? She wasn’t down to her own last dollar yet, but it wouldn’t be long. “This looks good, huh?” The cedar-sided building had green shutters, leafy shrubs across the front, and planters full of flowers on either side of the door.

“Let me get my camera.” Alina pulled this most treasured possession—a fancy, multiple-lens digital camera—from its case on the floorboard at her feet and slung the strap around her neck. “I might see something good to photograph.”

Inside, the café was an attractive, homey place, with tables covered with red-checked cloths and booths with red vinyl benches. A colorful mural filled the back wall, and the other walls were filled with antiques—old skis, skates, and kitchen utensils. A hand-cranked coffee grinder caught Sharon’s eye; she’d had one like it back home.

A pretty dark haired young woman greeted them. “Hello. Y’all can sit anywhere you like.”

They chose a booth against the wall. The young woman brought silverware wrapped in paper napkins and two glasses of water. “The menu is on the wall.” She indicated a large chalkboard covered in writing in colored chalk.

“Do you have a veggie burger?” Alina asked, her expression guarded.

“We have a great veggie burger,” the young woman said. “And killer sweet-potato fries or onion rings. Or I can get you a salad.”

Alina made a face. “I’ve had enough lettuce to last me a lifetime. But the veggie burger sounds good. And sweet-potato fries.”

“I’ll have the same,” Sharon said. “And iced tea.”

“I’ll have a Coke,” Alina said.

“Sounds good.” The young woman left and Sharon sagged back against the booth and closed her eyes.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

Sharon’s eyes snapped open and she pasted on a confident smile. “I’m fine. Just tired of driving.” That was true; they’d been in the car most of four days now. But she was also worn out with worrying—not just about this trip across the country to find a brother she hadn’t seen in years, but all the worrying of all the months before that leading up to the decision to leave and come west.

A few moments later a tall blonde brought their drinks. “What brings you two to Eureka?” she asked.

Sharon opened her mouth to say they were just visiting, but Alina answered first. “We’re here to visit my uncle. We’re thinking about staying, though. If Mom can find a job. Is it nice here?”

“It’s pretty nice,” the young woman said. “Danielle and I—that’s the dark haired woman who waited on you—we weren’t sure what to think when we first came here a few years ago. We’d never lived in such a small town. But it feels like home now. I’m Janelle, by the way.”

“I’m Alina.” Alina offered her hand. Amazing what the promise of a veggie burger could do for a sullen teen. “This is my mom, Sharon.”

Sharon took the offered hand and smiled weakly. “Hello.”

“Who’s your uncle?” Janelle asked.

“Jay Clarkson,” Alina said. “Do you know him?”

Janelle looked thoughtful. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Danielle!” She called over her shoulder. “Do we know a Jay Clarkson?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Anybody else know that name?” Janelle addressed the half dozen other patrons in the restaurant.

After some murmuring and brief discussion, it was decided that no one knew of a Jay Clarkson.

Sharon felt hollow. Defeated. Had she driven all the way across the country on a fool’s errand?

“We thought about asking at the library,” Alina said. “But Mom says Uncle Jay isn’t much of a reader.”

“Well, I hope you find him. And enjoy your stay in Eureka, however long it ends up being. It’s kind of quiet now, but things really pick up come summer.”

“Is there a motel in town?” Sharon asked. She’d planned on asking Jay if they could stay with him, but if he wasn’t here . . . She was suddenly so exhausted that the thought of getting in the car and driving to the next town was almost enough to make her burst into tears.

“There is. The Eureka Hotel, up by the highway. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean. We’ve got a bed-and-breakfast opening this summer, but it’s not ready yet.”

“The hotel is fine. I’ll check it out.” She hoped the rooms were cheap. The wad of cash she’d stuffed in her suitcase before she left was getting alarmingly thin. She’d have to find a job soon. She’d counted on Jay to help with that; living here, he’d know who would hire her, where she and Alina could live.... But if he wasn’t here . . . She fought back the sick, panicked feeling that had threatened to overwhelm her whenever she allowed herself to think of her and her daughter alone. Really alone—something she had never been in her life.

Danielle brought their food, and the aroma of burgers and fries revived Sharon some. She told herself she’d feel better when she’d eaten. She would find Jay, and he would help them. End of story.

“Oh, this is so good,” Alina said after a few minutes, pausing to sit back. She took a sip of Coke. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all. I like Janelle and Danielle.”

Sharon nodded. “I was really hoping someone would know where to find Jay.”

“When was the last time you heard from him?” Alina asked.

“I talked to him on the phone right before we moved last time.”

Alina’s eyes widened. “You haven’t heard from him in five years?”

“Your father thought it was best to keep to ourselves.” Joe had been big on self-sufficiency. That, and his increasing paranoia, had led him to sever relationships with their families and most of their friends.

Alina took a long drink of her soda, then dragged a sweet-potato fry through a pool of ranch dressing on her plate. “He listened to Wilson too much,” she said. “Wilson was paranoid that the government was opening all our mail. But Dad isn’t that stupid.”

Sharon said nothing. Joe wasn’t stupid, but he had his own share of paranoia, grown worse since they’d moved next door to his best friend—pretty much his only friend now—Wilson Anderson, a man who trusted no one.

She turned her head to study the mural on the back wall of the café. A miner and his mule stood against a backdrop of majestic peaks, while a stern-faced pioneer woman did laundry in front of a log cabin. On the other end of the painting, a breechcloth-clad Native American crouched beside a stream, watching a rainbow trout.

Janelle stopped by to refill Sharon’s iced tea. “Can I take a picture of your mural?” Alina asked.

“Sure. A local artist, Olivia Theriot, painted that for us a few months ago,” she said. “She works part time at the bar next door, the Dirty Sally, but she has T-shirts and jewelry and stuff in a shop up on the square.”

“Cool,” Alina said.

“Maybe you ought to stop in the Dirty Sally and ask about your relative,” Janelle said. “If he’s not the library type, maybe he’s the bar type.”

“Definitely the bar type,” Sharon said. At least when she’d last seen him, her brother had been a hard-drinking, motorcycle-riding, authority-defying rebel. Maybe he was in jail somewhere.

Janelle moved away. Alina slid out of the booth and went to take pictures of the mural. Sharon stared out the window beside the booth, which looked out onto a neat backyard, complete with a chicken coop and bare raised garden beds.

“Are we going to ask about Jay at the bar?” Alina asked when she returned.

“I don’t know.” Sharon pushed her almost-empty plate away. “Maybe he isn’t here anymore.”

“We can’t come all this way without at least asking.” A whine crept into Alina’s voice. “I’m tired of riding. Let’s stay here for a day or two, check things out. At least we’ll eat good.” She nodded to the chalkboard menu. “They have vegetarian lasagna, vegetable soup, stir-fry with the option of tofu instead of chicken, and macaroni and cheese.”

Sharon suppressed a smile. Apparently, the way to her daughter’s heart was through her stomach. “We’ll stay a couple of days,” she said. “And we’ll keep looking for Jay.”

After all, she was running out of options. She needed to find someplace to settle, in case Joe decided to make good on his threats to come after her.

“Have you seen my key chain?” Olivia Theriot asked, as she combed through the box of miscellaneous junk that had collected beneath the cash register at the Dirty Sally Saloon. “It’s a real aspen leaf, encased in resin. D. J. gave it to me.”

“Are your keys still attached to it?” Fellow bartender Jameso Clark looked up from the draft beer he was drawing.

“No, I have the keys. But I noticed last night the leaf was missing. I was hoping it had fallen off here and someone had found it.”

“I haven’t seen it.” Jameso finished filling the glass and set the beer in front of Bob Prescott, who sat at the bar eating a bacon cheeseburger.

“Maybe you lost it at the house,” Bob said.

“Maybe so, but I looked there.” Olivia made a face. “I’m losing everything these days—my favorite pair of earrings, pens, and now my keychain. I think I’m just stressed out with the remodeling and everything.”

“How’s that coming?” Jameso asked.

“Slow.” She and her boyfriend, D. J. Gruber, had bought the old miner’s house in a foreclosure sale last month. They’d gotten a sweet deal, but now they spent every spare moment trying to make the place livable. “I can’t wait until we can move in together. Maybe then I’ll stop misplacing things.” D. J.’s rental house was too small for the two of them and her teenage son, Lucas, so she lived with her mother, Eureka mayor Lucille Theriot. Besides, getting their own place and fixing it up together was symbolic of her and D. J. starting over. She was a big believer in symbols. D. J. said that was the artist in her. Lucas just said she was weird.

“Maybe you have a pack rat,” Bob said.

“We do not have rats!” She shuddered. Mice were bad enough, but rats were enough to give her nightmares.

“Not a regular rat, a pack rat.” Bob set down his burger. In his seventies, he was the picture of the grizzled miner, right down to his canvas pants, checked flannel shirt, and scraggly whiskers. Olivia suspected he cultivated this image carefully. “They’re bigger and hairier than your average rat, and they like to collect things and stash them in their nests.”

“They’re harmless,” Jameso said.

She tried to push away the image of a giant, hairy rat wearing her favorite earrings and changed the subject. “How’s Maggie?” she asked Jameso. Maggie Stevens, a reporter at the local paper, had moved to town about the same time Olivia had come to Eureka, and had started dating Jameso not too long after.

“Pregnant.”

She laughed. “That doesn’t answer my question. How’s she feeling?”

“She feels fine,” Jameso said. “But between the wedding plans and getting Barb’s B and B ready to open this summer, she’s driving me crazy.”

Olivia tried to hide a smile and failed.

“What are you smirking about?” Jameso asked.

“Those two love ordering you around,” she said. Barb Stanowski, Maggie’s best friend, lived in Houston but spent a lot of time in Eureka. Right now, she was remodeling another of the town’s old homes into a fancy bed-and-breakfast inn. “I think they like the idea of domesticating the wild man.” Before Maggie had arrived in town, Jameso had a reputation as a hard-partying free spirit, a handsome rogue who refused to settle down. Now that he and Maggie were engaged, with a baby on the way, he’d definitely changed.

“Yeah, well, I’ll be glad when the B and B opens and the wedding’s over and things settle down.” He bent and began detaching the beer keg beneath the bar. “You got the last beer out of this one, Bob.”

“I hate to tell you, but with a new baby in the house, your life will be anything but settled,” Olivia said. “Have you and Maggie found a place to live yet?”

He scowled. “No, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you don’t have a packrat.” Bob, having finished his burger and drained the beer, pushed his empty plate and glass away. “Maybe you have a ghost. What house did you buy again?”

“It belonged to a woman named Gilroy. She was moving to Florida to live with her daughter.”

He nodded. “That’s the old McCutcheon place. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it didn’t have a ghost. They say old man McCutcheon murdered his wife when she tried to run off with a traveling insurance salesman, and buried her body in the back garden. Of course, they never found the body, but could be she’s haunting the place. A woman would like fancy earrings and such.”

“Oh, shut up, Bob. Save the tall tales for the tourists.” She didn’t believe in ghosts. “I’m just losing things because I’m stressed. I’ll have to be more careful.”

“Don’t go scaring her with your ghost stories, Bob.” Jameso hefted the empty beer keg to his shoulder. “I have to change this out. Be right back.”

As he exited out the back, the front door to the saloon opened and a woman and a girl entered. The woman was of medium height and thin, with dark brown hair falling well past her shoulders. The girl—her daughter, most likely—also had dark hair, worn in two braids on either side of her heart-shaped face. “Can I help you?” Olivia asked.

The woman looked around the almost-empty bar, then finally rested her gaze on Olivia. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked exhausted. “I’m looking for a man named Jay Clarkson,” she said. “Have you heard of him?”

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.” She turned to Bob. “Sound familiar to you?”

Bob shook his head. “No, and I know everybody. What do you want with this Clarkson fellow?”

She and the girl were already backing toward the door, like wild animals frightened by the questions. “Don’t go,” Olivia said. “Maybe we can help you.”

Jameso emerged from the back room with a fresh keg and Olivia turned to him. “Jameso, do you know—?”

But he was staring at the woman, his face the color of copy paper. “Sharon!” He lowered the keg.

“Jay!” She took a few steps toward him, then stopped. Jameso was frozen in place. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked.

“Sure. Of course.” He shoved both hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m just surprised. I thought you were in Vermont.”

The woman pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, nostrils pinching, then flaring. “I’ve left Joe.” She glanced at the girl, who had hung back, though she kept making furtive glances in Jameso’s direction. “It’s a long story. Jay, I’m just so glad to see you. I’ve been asking around town and no one knew you. I—”

“Jay?” Olivia said.

“It’s Jameso now,” he said, his voice strained. “Jameso Clark.”

“You changed your name?” Sharon asked.

He put one hand on the bar, leaning on it. “It’s a long story.”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “I have all the time in the world. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Yeah.” Olivia copied the woman’s pose. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“Everything is going to be fine. You don’t have to worry about anything.” Barb shifted her Escalade into second gear as she cruised down the steep hill into town.

“Liar.” Maggie rested her hands on her bulging belly and felt the baby—Jameso insisted on calling it the Stowaway—kick. So far she’d survived morning sickness, fatigue, cravings, swollen ankles, and indigestion, but whether she’d live through a wedding, a new husband, and a new baby was debatable. “I have plenty to worry about, starting with the fact that Jameso and I don’t have a place to live after we’re married.”

“I don’t know why you don’t move in with Jameso. Or keep your place and have him move in with you.”

“My lease expires June fifteenth and the landlord wants me out so he can collect double the rent from summer tourists. And Jameso’s place doesn’t have room for a baby.”

“A baby doesn’t need a lot of room, at least not at first.” Barb shifted again and guided the SUV past Living Waters Hot Springs. Steam rose from behind the wooden fence that blocked a view of the clothing-optional hot springs from the road.

“I need for us to find a place to start life together that’s just ours,” she said. “Call me crazy, but I want a bedroom that Jameso has not already shared with half a dozen other women previously. And a kitchen with a stove that works—Jameso’s doesn’t.”

“That’s what you get for falling for the town Casanova.” Barb grinned. “Though I like to think Jameso was with all those other women because he was looking for you. Once you came into his life, bam! Instant monogamy.”

Maggie snorted and plucked at nonexistent lint on the front of her maternity top. “I know he loves me and I love him. I just hate that everything’s so unsettled. I don’t have a baby bed, or half the things I’ll need for the kid, because there’s no place to put them. I don’t even have a wedding dress, because I don’t know what size I’ll be a month from now. Plus, I can’t get excited about waddling down the aisle, the size of a whale.”

“You’re the one who wanted to wait until spring to get married,” Barb said. “I told you you were cutting it close.”

“Now I’m wondering if we shouldn’t wait until after the baby is born.”

“Jameso will never go for that. It’s all I can do to keep him from dragging you off to the justice of the peace now.”

Maggie sighed. “I know. He’s not a patient person. But he’s trying. This is all a big change for him.” For a man who’d avoided responsibility for years, Jameso had embraced the prospect of being a husband and father with touching resolve. He made Maggie believe he would have moved mountains for her—so why was she so reluctant to buy a wedding dress and say her vows?

“Maybe I’ll buy a dress and surprise you,” Barb said. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

Maggie glanced at her friend. A former beauty queen, Barb had aged well, thanks to a combination of good genes and the money to afford the best salons, trainers, and plastic surgeons. At forty, she still turned heads wherever they went. Maggie ought to have been jealous, but Barb was unfailingly generous and had excellent taste. “While you’re at it, find us a house, too.”

“What does the real-estate agent say?”

“That everything in our price range needs too much work or is too far from town.”

“There’s always your dad’s cabin.”

Maggie laughed, a short, surprised bark that held no real mirth. The one-room miner’s shack perched high on Mount Garnet had no electricity except solar, no heat except for a wood stove, and no access to the house in winter except a snowmobile. She’d lived there when she first came to Eureka after her dad, Jake Murphy, left the place to her in his will. But it was no place for an infant. “Now who’s crazy?”

“I’m sure pioneer women raised children in worse conditions,” Barb said.

“I am not a pioneer woman.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve certainly blazed a few new trails since you left Houston. The old Maggie would never have chopped her own firewood and snowshoed to the neighbor’s house in a blizzard, or half the things. . .