The fog closed in quickly as they drove north. At first, it was a gradual gray, a lessening of the sun. Then, tendrils of mist began to creep down the dark, tree-covered mountains, like the heavy, chilled breath of a sleeping giant. Soon, the gloom had set in so thick and heavy that she could barely see the road at all. The headlights couldn’t cope with the solid gray, and she had to slow down almost to a crawl.
The kids were focused on their iPads and probably hadn’t even noticed. Amanda, however, felt the weight of it pressing down on her soul. She remembered something she’d read about this place, when she’d first started on this whole ridiculous journey. That this area had been used by the US military in World War II specifically to train pilots to land in fog. That should have been a warning that this was a place to avoid.
An eighteen-wheeler came out of the fog at top speed. It whizzed past the Audi, shaking it so hard that Amanda almost went off the road. Her hands clenched on the wheel as sweat beaded up on her forehead. She didn’t have to do this. She could pull over, turn around. Go somewhere… anywhere… else.
She loosened her grip and allowed herself an indulgent little memory of the home they had left behind. Beautiful Laguna Beach, with its crystal blue ocean and cloud-wisped sunny skies. She’d got the house on Silverdale Crescent in the divorce settlement, just over two years ago. It was a two-story Spanish-style house, with orange trees in the front yard, and a swimming pool out back. Unfortunately, it was just around the corner from an identical house on Oglethorpe Drive, where Steve, her ex, now lived with his new wife.
In the divorce, Steve had bought out her half of the company; she had got full custody of the children. Steve had got the sports car; Amanda had got the nanny. It was an “amicable” arrangement. Even now, a strong, familiar wave of anger swept over her. Her marriage had been rotten to the core, and she hadn’t even had an inkling. At the time it had been a shock, like falling down a deep dark well. But she’d survived the fall and was beginning to climb back up. Amanda had been sure that she was through the worst. Until three months ago, when she’d got the news that she’d inherited a house from a woman she’d never heard of, in a town called Avalon Springs.
Now, she wasn’t sure of anything.
The road began to climb steeply up to a pass. At the top, the fog became wispy, clearing enough for her to see what lay ahead. The road curved in a series of wide switchbacks as it descended into a valley that looked like it was stuffed with cotton balls. At the horizon, the sea glimmered in a line of silver. The Audi picked up speed on the descent and Amanda had to brake sharply. As the road leveled out into the valley, rain lashed the windshield. She passed a mileage sign: fifteen miles to go.
Amanda was relieved that they’d soon be at their hotel. It had been a long journey. They’d left two days before: a morning spent fighting Southern California traffic on the 405, eventually giving way to the twisted switchbacks of the Grapevine and the almost endless journey on I-5 through the Central Valley. The kids were playing games on their iPads with headphones on, and for almost two hundred miles she hadn’t heard a sound other than crunching, slurping, and the occasional groan over a lost life. After a night spent in a roadside Holiday Inn Express, they’d bypassed the Bay Area, turned west at Williams, and driven towards the coast. By then, the car was strewn with fast food wrappers, fries and soggy cups of melted ice. The dry, flat landscape had gradually become hilly, the road twisting past small vineyards and farms. They’d gone north at Ukiah, and, suddenly, they were in a part of the world that Amanda could barely imagine. Redwood country.
It was a beautiful drive, but a little intimidating too. The trees truly were giants, the road twisting around the huge trunks, the foliage hundreds of feet above, fracturing the sky into tiny pieces of blue mosaic. They’d passed a “Drive-thru Tree”, and “World’s Largest Log House”. She’d stopped off briefly at a rest area and tried to interest the kids in the natural beauty of the forest. Theo had read the signboard and seemed interested in the fact that the California coastal redwoods were apparently, “the world’s largest living things”—bigger even than blue whales. He’d taken a photo on the iPad and gone back to his game. Madison’s only comment had been “there’s no reception here”, and with a disdainful sigh, she’d closed down Facebook and switched to playing a game.
Amanda had tried to appreciate the forest, but, in fact, it made her feel vaguely uneasy and a little claustrophobic. The trees swallowed up most of the light. And then the fog had set in and with it, her anxieties. Had she done the right thing in coming up here? What was she going to find?
There were gradual signs that they were nearing civilization. The trees gave way to flat farmland, and there were a few billboards, a gas station, and a little ways further on, a huge building with a painted-on logo: “Redwood River Sawmills”, looming above a group of deserted factory houses. The road crossed Redwood River, and beyond there was a sign for a bird sanctuary and wildlife refuge at Avalon Bay. Amanda tried to swallow her fears and focus on the positives. The area was touted as an environmental paradise of virgin forests, wild coast and some of the cleanest air in the world. It would hopefully be a good place for Theo’s asthma—in the last year, despite numerous trips to the doctor’s office, new medications, and revisions to his Asthma Action Plan, he’d had two attacks and had all but given up playing soccer. Just remembering those attacks, Amanda felt a tremor of panic. She went over her mental list of where his inhalers were: in her purse, in Theo’s backpack, in her toiletries bag.
At the outskirts of town they passed a scattering of houses, a mothballed power plant, and an increasing number of billboards. “Look,” she said, braking suddenly just past the power plant. She glanced in the rearview mirror, not surprised—and only moderately annoyed—when neither of the kids looked up.
She pointed anyway at a billboard, faded and riddled with bullet holes. It read: “Welcome to Avalon Springs, Gateway to the Redwoods. Go Axemen!”
“Maybe that’s the high school football team,” she said, hoping to spark even a glimmer of interest from Madison. Although school had ended for the year, Madison hadn’t wanted to be away from her friends, even for a short vacation. She’d begrudgingly agreed to come along only after Amanda had upgraded her phone so that she could keep in touch with everyone. Madison was sixteen now, and since the divorce she and Amanda had grown apart. Hopefully this would be a good place for them to spend some time together and reconnect.
“Mom, are we almost there?”
Amanda jumped at the sound of Theo’s voice. She glanced again in the mirror. He’d taken his headphones off and was actually looking out the window.
“Yes, love. It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Amanda stared out at the fog enshrouding every tree, building, farmer’s field, and the mountains of the coastal range that she knew must be there somewhere.
“Why is it foggy?” Theo frowned as he adjusted the strap on his glasses. He probably meant it scientifically, because that’s the kind of boy he was.
“I think it must have something to do with condensation. The ocean air has a lot of water vapor in it that forms a low cloud over the land.”
She had no idea if that was right or not, but it sounded good. “Anyway,” she continued brightly, “the air is supposed to be very clean up here.”
“What a dump.” Madison’s voice was as startling as Theo’s had been. Amanda couldn’t argue. The outskirts of Avalon Springs was, in a word, depressing.
They passed the empty shell of a Big K that was boarded up, a chain-link fence around the property. There were a few motels and gas stations, a Chinese restaurant, a gun shop, a cannabis dispensary, two liquor stores, and a cemetery. Traffic was light, and they sat at a string of ill-timed lights with very few cars coming from the other direction.
“I think the town has been through some bad times lately,” Amanda said. Already she felt like she needed to apologize for bringing them here. “This used to be the main road north, but then they built the interstate. This place got bypassed. It also used to be big for fishing and timber. Those industries are tough these days.”
Past the next light, there was a parking lot jam-packed with pickup trucks and semis. “It looks like that’s where everyone is,” she said, pointing. “Walmart, maybe?”
They drew up level. It wasn’t Walmart. Amanda wished she hadn’t said anything. Madison was definitely looking out the window now. On opposite sides of the parking lot there were two bars. One was called The Cow Shed, and looked like a dive country western bar. The other was called The Pussy Cat Club.
“What’s that place?” Madison said.
Amanda looked at the sign painted with a lascivious black cat with winking red-light eyes. The signboard read: “Happy Hour: $1 body shots” and showed the mirror silhouette of a well-endowed woman in front of a pole. “Umm, I don’t know,” she said.
“Yeah, right,” Madison said.
Amanda caught a glimpse of the eye-roll in the rearview mirror and left it at that.
At the next light, the road turned sharply right onto Main Street. “The hotel must be around here somewhere,” Amanda said. “Keep an eye out. It’s on G Street.”
They passed A Street and B Street; whoever had laid out the town of Avalon Springs hadn’t needed much imagination. Every traffic light turned red as they approached. The fronts of the buildings were quaint, almost like an old country-western town, but most of the businesses were boarded up or for lease. They passed another building with a large number of cars and pickups parked outside. A pawnbroker. Outside was a row of bicycles, set out in a neat line according to size, from ten speeds on down to pink princess toddler bicycles. Amanda had to look away. What kind of place was this where a little girl’s bicycle ended up at a pawnshop?
“It’s like… totally dead.” Madison sounded genuinely surprised.
“Let’s just find the hotel,” Amanda said. She made a last-ditch attempt to lift the mood. “It sounds good. There’s a swimming pool with a waterslide and a steam room.”
“A waterslide?” Theo said, perking up.
“Yes,” she said. “A really big one, I think.” She hoped.
A few blocks past the pawnshop they reached the center of town. There were some nicely-painted Victorian houses with wooden gingerbread trimming and neat topiary trees, and a large brick building that appeared to be the town hall. There was a square with a bandstand, and more turn-of-the-century buildings that seemed to be law and doctors’ offices. Avalon Springs may look like the town that time forgot, but at least this part of town seemed to have been forgotten at a nicer moment.
She continued around the block, turning onto G Street. After another five minutes wasted at red lights, she eventually drew up to a large mock-Tudor building taking up most of a city block.
“Here we are,” she said, glad that the place was still in business. She drove up to the roofed area in front and parked.
“Anyone want to come inside and help me check in?”
Madison was glued stonily to her screen. Theo looked up. “No thanks, Mom,” he said.
With a sigh, Amanda got out of the car and went inside the lobby: double height with a beamed ceiling and knotty pine walls. The furnishings looked less old-worldly than old-and-tired. At the reception desk, a woman was talking on the phone, her red nails coiling in the cord. It took a few seconds of Amanda staring at her before she ended her personal conversation. She looked up with a bland smile. “Can I help you?” she said.
“Um, I have a reservation,” Amanda said. “It’s under Fielding.”
The woman clicked her nails on a keyboard. “Yes, I have it,” she said.
Amanda felt more than relieved. She wanted to tumble into bed and sleep for a week.
But just then, Theo came in. “Mom,” he said. “Can I go swimming?”
Amanda resigned herself to an evening spent at the pool supervising Theo while he did illegal belly flops from the side and making sure he didn’t tire himself out on the slide.
“Sure,” she said, ruffling his hair.
“The pool’s closed for a few weeks,” the clerk said.
“Oh.” Amanda looked at Theo’s face and felt like a hand was dragging her down into quicksand. “Um… really? What about the steam room?”
“It’s being refurbished.”
Amanda was tempted to get back into the car and drive off, to somewhere far from here. But the clerk was already swiping her card. “Room six.”
Reluctantly, Amanda took the key the clerk handed to her. A moment later, Madison came inside, her face a mask of disdain. “Um, hello…” she said to her brother in an irritated voice. “You left this in the car.” She held up Theo’s quick-relief inhaler.
“Don’t want it,” Theo said. He turned away. “Mom, can we have pizza?”
“We’ll see.” Amanda took the inhaler from Madison and shoved it in her pocket. “But let’s go to the room first.”
Amanda led the way down the hall towards room six. She was thankful that the journey was over. Worried, though, that the nightmare was only just beginning.
Amanda Fielding 151 Redwood Ridge—Friday 3 p.m.
Frances stared at the words in her day planner, chewing on the end of her pen. She checked her watch. It was just after four o’clock in the afternoon. She should call and confirm the appointment for tomorrow. On the phone, Mrs. Fielding had sounded vague as to when she would be arriving. Had she made it to Avalon Springs? Was she here now?
Frances took the pen out of her mouth. It was cratered with teeth marks. She could call up the lawyer’s office right now. Explain to Lance Simpson that she didn’t want the listing of the house on Redwood Ridge. Tell him that he should refer Mrs. Fielding to another realtor in town. After all, there were lots of them, and, in this market, most had very little to do.
She set down the pen and went to pick up the phone. Just then, the intercom buzzed and her PA, Sue-Ellen, drawled over the speaker that it was the mayor’s office. Frances steeled herself. She had to take the call, just like she had to take on the listing. She couldn’t turn down the opportunity to meet Amanda Fielding, the woman that none of them had known existed.
She kicked into professional mode, picking up the phone when it rang through. To her surprise, it was the mayor himself, Ralph Walker. Frances felt a little flash of pride that he would call her directly. For two years, she’d been working with City Hall to help secure land for the Sunset Wharf Redevelopment Project. The project had been subject to delay after delay, and the out-of-town developer, Crown Developments, had been threatening to walk. But just last week, Frances had secured the final piece of the puzzle—a blighted fish packing plant on the waterfront. She’d finally convinced the owner to sell up, and once the land was secured, the redevelopment could go ahead.
“Frances!” Ralph boomed into the phone. “You are the woman of the hour, the savior of the day. The sweetheart of Avalon Springs.”
Frances wasn’t sure about this last reference, but as he continued to wax poetic, she decided just to enjoy the little bit of success that had been so long in coming. At times it had felt like she was beating a dead horse, but she had kept beating, kept believing. Her husband, Jeff, was fond of saying that her greatest strength was also her biggest weakness. That through it all, she’d kept caring.
“So we’ll see you tomorrow at the City Council breakfast, won’t we? Hell, you know what it’s like, but at least it’s a free breakfast. And we can let the cat out of the bag, can’t we? About the fish plant?”
Frances considered the correct response. No papers had been signed yet, but Ralph was a politician who would be up for reelection next year.
“Sure,” she said, hoping that in letting the cat out of the bag she wouldn’t be opening up a can of worms. “I mean, I think so.”
“Great. That’s just great, sweetheart.”
Frances stifled a wince as the mayor hung up. She sat back, feeling a little overwhelmed. Like the sun shining through rain, she almost felt like crying. Happy tears. But happy tears might lead to other, more unwelcome tears, so she swallowed them back and stood up. She needed a pick-me-up, and then maybe she would call the lawyer’s office. If the redevelopment was going ahead at last, then she’d need to focus all of her energies on that. Then, she could forget all about Amanda Fielding and the sale of 151 Redwood Ridge.
She rummaged in her purse for her Full O’Beans loyalty card. She felt guilty about splurging on a salted caramel latte—her second of the day. But surely, if she was the “woman of the hour” she deserved a little something. She checked the card. Eight punches. Two more and she’d get a free drink. It just seemed wrong not to get those last two punches, especially since she’d be supporting a local business.
She put on her coat and went out of her office. Sue-Ellen was at the reception desk buffing her nails.
“I’m going to Beans,” Frances said. “You want anything? An espresso?”
“Nah, I’m on a detox,” Sue-Ellen said. “Can I get a raw juice? Carrot and beetroot?”
Frances wrinkled her nose. “That stuff’ll kill you.” She turned to go out the door.
“Hey.” Sue-Ellen stopped her. She put down her nail file and held out a ten-dollar bill. “You’re right. Get me a pack of Marlboro Reds while you’re at it.”
Frances smiled. “Got it.” She grabbed an Ocean Realty umbrella from the canister by the door: blue and yellow, as if they were selling nothing but clear, sunny skies. Outside, the rain was heavy and a strong wind was blowing off the bay. She turned and hurried along 2nd Street towards the coffee shop. Many of the buildings were boarded up or derelict and most were structurally unsound.
She passed an old shoe shop with a blacked-out front window. Frances remembered her mother buying her a pair of red boots at that shop, when she was six or seven years old. She could remember a lot of the old shops, and the joy she’d had holding her mother’s hand exploring them. They’d gone the first Saturday of every month, just after her dad’s payday—even he couldn’t drink all of it away by then. Those had been good times. The shopping… not Mack’s drinking.
She crossed the street in front of the apartment complex on C Street, an ugly but functional building that housed the majority of the low-income families in the town center. There was a big banner hanging between the windows on the second story: “Save Our Homes. Stop Sunset Wharf.” Frances felt a pang of concern. The City Council had been a little cagey on what would happen to the people in this apartment complex once the redevelopment got the green light. But Frances trusted that the mayor would make sure that the families here were rehoused. It was important to trust one’s elected officials, and she truly believed in the redevelopment. In her mind she pictured every building as restored and repainted, a flourishing street of art galleries, shops, and cafés. Avalon Springs would soon be another Eureka, another Hopland, another Sacramento Waterfront. With a little imagination, her town would be back on the map.
A gust of wind blew her umbrella inside out. She collapsed it and, ducking her head, ran the rest of the way to the café. Full O’Beans was located inside an old livery stable that had been converted into shops back in the 80s. It was unusual in that there were three shops that were still open: the coffee shop, a new age shop and yoga studio called “The Goddess Within” and, on the top level, a cigar and vape shop that Frances assumed was probably a front for a shadier sort of business. The kind that seemed to flourish when times were tough.
But all of that was going to change. The renaissance of Avalon Springs was coming. She had to keep believing…
A bell tinkled as she went into the café. As she went to the counter to place her order, she noticed a stack of flyers: “Save Our Homes. Stop Sunset Wharf.” Suddenly, she felt a little sick. She ordered Sue-Ellen’s drink and a black coffee for herself. Tomorrow, at the City Council breakfast, she’d try to speak to Ralph. Make sure that people were going to be looked after and there weren’t going to be any nasty surprises—
“Frances!”
Frances turned in the direction of the thin, reedy voice. Speaking of the devil—or wife of said devil—it was Tessie Walker. In her early sixties, she was tall and almost painfully thin, her Botoxed skin stretching tightly across her face. She’d come in through the side door along with a group of women in Lycra, who all smelled of sweat and patchouli. “Goddess” yoga must have just let out.
“Hello there,” Frances said, arranging her face into a smile. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” Tessie said. “Fantastic.”
Frances had never known Tessie to be anything else. As the self-proclaimed “First Lady of Avalon Springs”, she had appearances to keep up. She made it a personal mission to spearhead every so-called charitable committee in town, which Frances suspected meant delegating the work and getting her photo in the paper.
“Great,” Frances said. She wished she could get her drinks and leave, but the barista began taking orders from the line of yoga women.
“In fact, I was going to give you a call…” Tessie put her hand on Frances’s arm, her red acrylic nails like shiny talons. “Now I know it’s not settled yet, but I’ve spoken to Ralph and we want to hold a soirée for the CEO of Crown Developments. To welcome him to our little town. I’m sure that once he’s here, he won’t want to leave.”
“Fine, great.” Frances extricated her arm.
Tessie turned to her friends. “Now where should we have the party? The marina? The Enton Club? Or maybe… my backyard?”
“I’m sure everyone would be fine with your backyard, Tessie,” one of the gaggle said. “Your house is so nice.”
“Thanks.” Tessie beamed, and without knowing why, Frances felt a little sorry for her.
“We could get one of those big tents. What are they called?”
“A marquee,” Frances said.
“Yes.” Tessie clapped her hands. “A mar… kee.” She frowned suddenly. “Now, I wonder where we could get one—”
Frances’s phone buzzed in her purse with a text message. She fished it out as Tessie continued rattling on about the party. Her stomach dipped as soon as she saw the message.
Just confirming tomorrow’s appointment to see 151 Redwood Ridge? Any problems, let me know. Thanks, Amanda Fielding
Actually, there were quite a few problems, but Frances dutifully answered the text confirming that yes, it was OK. As she pressed send, she pushed from her head another childhood memory, one that had been threatening to enter her mind as soon as she’d learned of Amanda Fielding’s existence.
A hot day in summer. Hiding under the front porch. The creak of the swing as Mack and his friends sat around getting drunk on Jack Daniel’s and Coke. Talking about old times. The girls in high school. The ones they’d wanted to do. The ones they’d done. One girl… and then… that awful boastful laughter.
No. It wasn’t important. Probably wasn’t even a real memory…
“Do you think Amazon would have those marquees? The really big ones…” Tessie was questioning one of the others.
Frances wasn’t in the mood to talk about the party. Luckily, her drinks were placed on the counter in front of her. Tessie was still talking as she waved a quick goodbye and ducked out to go and buy Sue-Ellen’s Marlboro Reds.
Amanda Fielding. 151 Redwood Ridge. Tomorrow.
Frances didn’t smoke, but right now she could use a cigarette herself.
Amanda awoke to the unfamiliar sound of rain sheeting against the window. It took her a second to remember where she was, and the realization gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Avalon Springs. She would have been perfectly content to go through her life not knowing that this place existed.
She got out of bed and checked on the kids in the next room. Madison and Theo were both dead to the world. After checking in the previous evening, they’d driven up and down looking for the pizza place the desk clerk had recommended. Eventually they’d found it—boarded up with a “Closed for good” sign in the window.
By then it had been almost impossible for Amanda to put on a brave face, especially with the kids squabbling in the background over the portable charger, and Theo whining that he wanted pizza. Amanda tried to interest him in one of a handful of other restaurants: a drive-thru burger place, and two Chinese, but by then, only pizza would do. At the far end of town they found a bowling alley with almost as many cars and pickup trucks in the parking lot as the strip joint. Amanda herded everyone out. They ate what all three of them agreed was the most disgusting pizza ever.
Now, it was a new day, a new dawn. She got dressed and decided to go to the lobby to see if there were any brochures of things they could do to occupy the morning. Outside, it was pouring rain. Amanda couldn’t remember seeing such a solid, unrelenting stream of water.
In the lobby, to her pleasant surprise, a big jug of coffee had been put out and a breakfast buffet was being set up. Amanda got a paper cup of coffee and went over to one of the sofas and sat down. She stared into the dark opening of the river stone fireplace and cradled the cup to warm her hands. Her cell phone was back in the room. She should go get it: check her emails, check to see if the realtor, Frances Reynolds, had confirmed the house viewing appointment. She should wake the kids, have breakfast, go out and explore the town. She should do… a lot of things. But right now, everything seemed too difficult.
Three years ago, she’d been a completely different person. She’d been Mrs. Steve Robertson, a woman who’d had it all, though she hadn’t know. . .
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