“Cash! We’re still in the mountains. We’ll crash.”
“No, we won’t. The landing strip is on the top of the canyon. Don’t worry, taking this baby down is a piece of cake.”
Butterflies swarmed in Christie’s stomach and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. She clutched the armrests and tried to convince herself that there was no reason for fear. Cash was an experienced pilot and he flew into this airport regularly.
The earth was coming at them too fast for her inner dialogue to be persuasive. She tried to force her eyes shut, to push the scene out of her mind, but failed. Her eyes flew open, and the ground continued to hurtle toward them.
“Cash, the runway is so short. The canyon…” There was no room for miscalculation. If they overshot the runway, the plane would plunge over a precipice.
“Relax; there’s plenty of room.”
“Relax? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Every muscle in her body was taut as she leaned forward, mesmerized by the dramatic approach to the landing strip. Cash lowered the landing gear and the plane nosed toward the tarmac. Just before landing, he gently eased the nose upward a few degrees. The wheels bumped the ground. The plane lifted slightly, then touched down again and sped across the runway. He reversed throttle and the plane reluctantly slowed, engines grinding, cockpit trembling.
When they finally grumbled to a lazy roll, Cash maneuvered off the runway.
“Welcome to Sedona.”
Christie’s hands were shaking so hard she could not release her seat belt.
“Let me help you.”
Cash reached to unbuckle her. His face was close to hers and his breath lay across her throat. She fumbled with the buckle again, but finally gave in to his assistance. She stood on unsteady legs, as though she had just climbed out of the saddle after a long horseback ride.
“That was quite an experience,” she said.
“You get used to it. My first solo was from this airport.”
“That took guts.”
“Looking back, I think it bordered on insanity to practice touch-and-go exercises from this piece of rimrock. But what does a kid know?”
Cash opened the cockpit door and dropped the stairs. They stepped to the ground and he secured the wheels with blocks. A twin of his SUV was parked at the edge of the field. Cash stowed their overnight bags inside.
“How did you arrange this?” she asked.
“I call ahead and my housekeeper and her husband drop the Jeep off. You wouldn’t want to walk all the way to my hacienda, would you?”
“After that plane ride, I’m lucky my legs carried me to the Jeep.” She slid across the passenger seat while Cash got behind the steering wheel.
Along the road, butter-yellow flowers grew thickly beneath the muted green that crowned the twisted gray trunks of sycamores. The arms of prickly cactus were angled in a pose resembling a traffic cop directing cars at an intersection. The rimrock, etched in horizontal gradations of red, contrasted sharply with the cool colors. In the brilliant sunset the sky was streaked with vermilion.
There was a soothing quality to the scenery, and by the time they turned into Cash’s driveway, Christie’s anxieties had slipped away. Cash managed their duffel bags and pushed open a wrought-iron gate. He stepped aside for her to enter the courtyard.
The sprawling Spanish-style architecture hinted at hidden patios and cloistered gardens. Within the low adobe wall was an oasis of ginger hibiscus and cascading flames of fuchsia blossoms. A tangle of crimson bougainvillea clung to the oval at the recessed entry.
Inside, the rooms flowed with an openness that provided an illusion of space to surpass the already abundant dimensions. The walls were thick and Christie surmised that they were designed for insulation. The light fixtures were constructed of heavy wrought iron, curved and fluted in a traditional Spanish motif. Beveled-glass French doors opened the rooms to a courtyard garden with a rock-rimmed pool and spa.
“This is beautiful.” Christie could not eliminate the awe from her voice. “There’s a sense of comfort and efficiency…and earthiness. Your home is definitely a personal statement. I’ll bet you return to your practice renewed after a weekend here.”
Cash took her hand. “You’re very perceptive. Few people understand that efficient does not automatically equate to ugly. I crave simplicity because I don’t have time to deal with clutter.”
She wondered where the promised housekeeper was hiding. She was beginning to suspect that mentioning her had been a ploy to convince her to accompany him to Arizona. However, only regular attention to house and garden explained their well-tended appearance.
“Where’s the guardian of chaste morals?” she asked.
“Is that why you appear tense? You’re not afraid of me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. But this was billed as a business trip, and there is the matter of a housekeeper.”
“You think I made that up?”
“No, of course not. I’m still feeling the effects of the plane ride, but I would be more comfortable if the duenna was onstage. Wave a magic wand, rub Aladdin’s lamp, or do whatever is necessary to conjure her appearance. Then let’s get on with our reason for being here.”
“You sure do cut to the chase. I’ll speak to Maria immediately. I’m sure she is anxious to meet you, too.”
Knowing that a third party would be on the premises had a calming effect. Until she knew more about him, and what his values were, it was wise to be cautious. But she recognized that it was a bit late for that line of thinking. Flying to Arizona with him and being put up in his personal domain had not been exactly a cautious move on her part.
She heard his voice in conversation with a woman speaking rapid Spanish. She could not understand what either was saying, but the conversation suddenly halted. Cash’s footsteps were heavy on the terrazzo as he returned to the living room.
“My housekeeper sends her regrets; she can’t stay overnight.” He lifted his hand, palm outward, as if to ward off further verbal assault. “I know what you are thinking, but you’re wrong. I honestly believed I could rely on Maria to stay for the weekend. Problem is, her husband seems to harbor old-fashioned ideas about a woman’s place being in the home. His. I tried to change her mind, but she threatened to quit.”
It seemed obvious that he had tried to cajole his housekeeper, but Christie was nagged by the thought that since she did not understand Spanish, she only had his word that the conversation concerned Maria’s refusal to stay. It was difficult to comprehend that this masterful persuader of juries could not convince one stubborn woman, but she would give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your room and give Maria a chance to cool off before she serves dinner.”
The guest room was lovely; the soft-green decor a refreshing antidote to the mustard hues of the desert. Cash deposited her duffel on a chair.
“Maria has promised one of her finest creations as a peace offering. You have twenty minutes to freshen up.”
Twenty minutes later she joined Cash on the patio. Tiny colored lanterns cast a festive glow across the flagstone. A recessed light illuminated the pool, and the surface of the water quivered in the warm breeze. In the fading sunlight, a flowered umbrella that provided daytime shade was a charming prop to a round, glass-topped table.
Maria glided onto the patio, carrying a pair of steaming plates. Cash introduced her to Christie. “I hope you enjoy your visit,” she said. She waved a finger at Cash. “Mr. Cash, you will behave yourself, no?” Her tone was somber, but her eyes twinkled with laughter. She placed their dinners on bright-red place mats and left.
Cash poured wine into their glasses. Christie tasted her food. The mildly spiced chicken chunks and sautéed vegetables were delicious.