Eric fled.
He pretended not to notice the woman coming at him, shouldered his way to the buffet table and filled his plate with prime rib, a roll with butter, and two knishes with some unidentified stuffing. The balcony was within reach, the woman gaining on him. He squeezed past the open, sliding door and fled down a winding staircase to a path descending past the waterfall towards the pool. In seconds he was out of sight of the balcony, hiding like a schoolboy and feeling stupid about it.
The pool was still and beckoning, reflecting the red and orange colors of a sky at dusk. He went to it, eating a few bites from his plate, and sat down in a lounge chair close to the waterfall. Mist cooled his face, his senses calmed by the white noise of splashing water.
He’d been sitting there for several minutes when there was movement in his peripheral vision. He looked right and saw a woman descending the stairs. She wore an orange, Asian-style, sleeveless dress with a slit up one thigh. Her long hair was coal black, draped over a shoulder, and her skin seemed to glow in the day’s last light.
Eric stared without conscious thought, for she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She saw him, then, and smiled. He averted his gaze, looked towards the pool, but she came close, and he smelled scented soap and lavender.
“Leon said I’d probably find you here. A person can’t hear himself think upstairs, but everyone is having such a good time. Aren’t you?”
Eric dared to look at her, and swallowed hard. Up close, her eyes were nearly as dark as her hair, her skin so white that fine, blue veins showed in her forearms. “I’m afraid I’m not very good in crowds,” he managed to say, and was thankful when his voice didn’t quaver. “Introvert, I guess.”
“Me, too,” she said. “I’m most comfortable one-on-one with people. And I think it’s very peaceful down here.”
Eric was trying to think of a profound reply when there was a shout from above him. He looked up; saw Leon hanging well out beyond the corner of the balcony to be able to see them past the waterfall. Leon waved merrily, hanging on tightly to the railing with one hand.
“Hi, Nataly. I see you found him. Do try to coax him back upstairs again.”
Eric rolled his eyes, but Nataly just waved at Leon. “I promise,” she called, and Leon disappeared from view.
“He thinks he’s my mother,” said Eric, trying to be clever.
Nataly sat down beside him, looked out at the pool. “He’s a complex man, so flamboyant, but beneath the surface is something else, don’t you think?”
“Something else?”
She turned to look at him, and he felt himself blush, hoped it was hidden in the rapidly dimming light.
“Yes. Something still, focused, even dark. It’s in his eyes. I can see things in people’s eyes.”
Eric averted his gaze, gestured around him with one hand. “This is an incredible place you have here.”
“It’s comfortable, and I love the views. I can detach myself from the physical plane here, go where violence and tragedy don’t exist, at least for a while.” She stretched out a slender arm and pointed towards Cathedral Rocks. “You see the three spires to the left? Somewhere in there is a portal from another dimension. Beings come and go there, aliens or angels, depending on your beliefs.”
“You actually believe that?” asked Eric.
She smiled with her eyes. “I think it’s possible, and if other people believe I must respect that. I’m exposed to many strange beliefs by people who come into my shop.”
“New Visions? I thought it was a gallery.”
“It’s going to be soon, but the front half is my store.”
Eric’s response was out before he could stop it. “Business must be good,” he said, and hated himself.
“I do well,” she said, after a pause of two heartbeats, “but it’s a hobby for me, like the art. Creative, imaginative people intrigue me, and I cater to their wishes. Come in, sometime, and we’ll find a crystal that resonates with you, or maybe a relaxing fragrance. I don’t do it for money. My late father provided for all my physical comforts, including this estate, but like anyone else I try to provide for my own mental and emotional needs. I see people every day who haven’t been able to do it. I see the pain in their eyes, and hear it in their words. They’ve lost touch with a higher part of themselves.”
Eric tried hard to look her straight in the eye, and failed. “The new-age culture is totally new to me. The artists I’ve dealt with in the east are more pop than new age. I guess I’m really a left-brained accountant at heart, but I’m willing to learn.”
Nataly’s eyes widened beautifully. “Ah, well, that’s a start.” She stood up, extended a hand. “Now, before I throw you to the hordes again, let me take you on a tour of the house. Two of our local artists will join us, and they want to meet you. Leon has not given them the attention they deserve.”
He escorted her up the stairs, her hand on his arm. People watched them, and Leon was grinning. Indeed, she took him on a house tour. Two artists, young, followed them. Wakefield and Enrow were both painters, early thirties, and both had agents. Eric gave each of them his card. The house was monstrous, each room huge, terra cotta stucco, brown beams at the ceilings, three fireplaces, furnished in dark leather and Santa Fe western. Wall niches held collections of pre-Colombian and contemporary Indian art, walls decorated with red-rock paintings in gilded frames, Navaho blankets and a few, small sand paintings. Each room had arrangements of quartz, calcite, halite and other crystals in intricate displays with the overall shape of a pyramid, and in the main bedroom a huge brass bed faced a painted, golden eye on the opposite wall. The aroma in each room was different, aromatic oil burners and sticks of incense spewing lavender, sandalwood, Egyptian musk and myrrh. And through all of it, Nataly’s hand never left his arm.
As promised, she took him back to the crowd, and he endured more hours of inane conversation and prying questions with Leon right there to watch and coach him. He kept looking for Nataly, but she had disappeared as her guests consumed more alcohol and became even louder than earlier.
Finally, even Leon had had enough. It was nearing midnight, and Eric would have little time for sleep. Leon steered him straight towards the front door, and suddenly Nataly was there. She smiled, and stepped out onto the front porch with them. Leon kissed her hand, but she was already turning towards Eric; her eyes fixed on his, and wouldn’t let go.
“Nice meeting you,” said Eric, smiled, and held out his hand. She took it in both of hers, and stepped close. Up close her eyes were the deepest of brown. “Drop by the shop sometime, Mister Price. I hope you’ll like our little town. And if you stay here long enough, I think you’ll experience the healing you’ve been looking for.”
She squeezed his hand, turned, and melded back into the crowd.
Eric stood there for a moment, feeling a variety of emotions.
One of them was anger.
Leon sped him home in the Humvee and mercifully made few efforts at conversation, sensing Eric’s mood. “Be ready at oh-five-hundred. A black SUV will come for you, and I won’t be coming along. You’ll be having an audience with Davis himself. That’s all I know. Brief me when you return.”