"He doesn't still own the place, does he?" she asked, thinking that Parnell must have sold it to the owner of Utopia to use as a retreat for important visitors.
"He does and he doesn't," Walt replied. "This is where the story takes a sordid turn. Parnell got married at the church about a mile from here. It was quite an event too, and cost a fortune. Five hundred people were invited to the reception," he said. "I heard it took a year to plan the big party. They even had flowers flown in from Europe. I guess the flowers in the United States weren't good enough. Anyway, the planning of the marriage lasted longer than the union. Parnell was only married eighteen months when he filed for divorce."
He paused to shake his head. Then he got sidetracked. "I sure don't understand this modern world. Me and my wife, Ona May, have been married forty-seven years, and sure, there have been times when I wanted to leave and never come back. I imagine she felt the same way every now and again, but we stayed together because we said our vows and we meant them. Now I read in the papers about this new trend called 'starter marriages.' Have you ever heard of them?"
She smiled. "I've heard the term."
"I don't understand it," he said. "Those couples ought to just live together and leave the vows out of it. I think Parnell thought he was in a starter marriage, the way he filed so quick. It's been a real nasty divorce with lots of mudslinging, which of course hits the papers. People gobble that trash right up. He filed over a year ago, and it's still dragging on. Everyone's waiting to hear who's gonna end up owning that house. The soon-to-be-ex-wife swears he promised it to her, and she thinks she ought to be able to keep it. The judge is deciding now which one of them is going to get it. Pamela Parnell says she'll die before she lets him have it, and he says that's fine with him. They're both acting like five-year-olds, if you ask me. Just last week Parnell gave another interview and was quoted as saying that no matter what the judge ruled, he was never gonna let his ex have that house. Those two are quite a pair," he added. "But the folks around and in Aspen are just as bad. Do you know they got a lottery going?"
"You mean they're betting over which one gets the house?"
"That's right. The odds are ninety to ten in favor of Pamela Parnell getting it because of the shady way Dennis got himself those permits. There's talk he'll be indicted. And the judge who's deciding which one of those sorry characters will get the house is a real dedicated environmentalist. Time will tell, I suppose."
He leaned forward, tapped the map with his forefinger. "Right there," he said. "That's Land Between the Lakes. It was so
named, you see, because it sits between two big, clear-water lakes. Have you got a pen on you? I could circle it for you."
Avery dug through her backpack, found a ballpoint pen, and handed it to Walt. His fingers were crippled with arthritis. He had trouble holding the pen as he made the circle.
"From where we're sitting, it's about a two-hour drive away. There are some other fancy homes up there, but you won't get near any of them because all the roads are privately owned and gated."
"I thought my aunt was staying at a retreat called Land Between the Lakes, but I must have been mistaken. Maybe I didn't hear her correctly. There was a lot of static on the line."
"Could she have said Twin Lakes?" he asked. "Now, Land Between the Lakes is up north, but Twin Lakes is south of here, and
it is marked on the map."
He pointed to the location. Avery nodded, then folded the map and put it in her backpack. She shook his hand again as she stood. "Thank you for helping me," she said.
"It was my pleasure," he replied. "You be sure to buckle up, darlin'. There are some crazy drivers out there, taking those winding roads at seventy miles an hour. They're begging for death. Don't you let them take you with them."
She got back in the car and started out again. Guilt prevented her from taking any side trips. Besides, she had soaked up a little local color when she'd visited with Walt. He was a genteel old man, and she'd thoroughly enjoyed listening to him.
Maybe she could talk Carrie into doing a little hiking. That thought was so absurd, she laughed. Avery had heard that her aunt actually had been quite a jock in high school. She'd played volleyball, basketball, and just about every other sport that was offered. Avery remembered playing with Carrie's tennis trophies. Did her aunt still have them, or had she thrown them away? Oh, well, no matter. Carrie definitely wasn't an outdoors girl now. She detested exercise.
Carrie's goal for her stay at Utopia was to be pampered, not whipped into shape. Avery sighed loudly. She hoped to heaven Carrie didn't make her do all that girly stuff with her, like mud baths and seaweed wraps. It wasn't that she had anything against being pampered, but she didn't have all that much time to have fun, and she would rather get muddy exploring the countryside.
Avery drove through Aspen and continued on. An hour later she was certain she was lost. She was about to pull over and check the map again when she spotted the sign for Utopia. The road curved sharply, then climbed and narrowed to a gravel driveway. Then the gate came into view. She stopped to give her name to the guard on duty.
"Your name isn't on the list for today's check-ins."
"I have a reservation," she insisted. "My name should be there."
He moved closer to the car and smiled. "I'm sure it's just a mix-up. You can straighten it out at the front desk."
"Thanks," she called out as she drove through.
They certainly were friendly at the spa if the guard was an indicator. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw him standing in the middle of the road watching her drive away.
His salt-and-pepper hair reminded her of her uncle Tony. Oh, Lord, she forgot to call him last night. As soon as she checked into her room, she'd do just that. Tony was such a worrier. Avery knew that he and Carrie were having problems, but she hoped that they would be able to work them out. Carrie was probably the reason they weren't getting along. Although Avery loved her aunt with all her heart, she wasn't blind to her faults. Carrie could be a real pain sometimes. Marrying Tony was the best thing she had ever done, and maybe, while she was relaxing at the spa, she would take the time to think about her priorities. She had always taken Tony for granted, and no marriage could survive long that way. Fortunately, her uncle had the patience of a saint. He'd hung in there longer than any other man would have.
She went around another sharp curve. For Pete's sake, where was the spa? Since passing through the gate, she had to have driven halfway up the mountain, and she was completely surrounded by wilderness. Then, when she was sure she must have taken a service road by mistake at the last fork, Utopia came into view.
It was aptly named. "My goodness," she whispered. The place was gorgeous and seemed to radiate tranquillity. The buff-colored stucco buildings were nestled in the lush landscape of towering evergreens. The main structure looked as though it were part of the sloping mountain. Small bungalows dotted the hillside with stone paths winding in and around the thick pines. There were wildflowers everywhere. She could hear the sound of rushing water. She turned and saw a fountain of steps built into the side of the lower hill. The bubbling water rolled down the slate and splashed over a golden sphere suspended in a circular pool.
A maintenance truck pulled out in front of Avery's car from a service road. She braked and waited as the crew quickly unloaded some barrels, her gaze taking in the beauty and serenity of her surroundings. A young couple, obviously in love, caught her attention. They were holding hands as they strolled down the path parallel to the fountain. They stopped halfway, turned to each other, and kissed passionately.