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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

COTTONWOOD, ARIZONA

MONDAY, MARCH 20, 2023

5:30 A.M.

Things still weren’t exactly hunky-dory between Ali and B. when she awakened the next morning. B. had left for Cottonwood by the time she crawled out of bed. That wasn’t a good sign. They usually commuted back and forth to Cottonwood together. Whenever her mother, Edie Larson, had been busy minding everybody else’s business, her dad had always said she was Edieing it. Obviously, Ali was a chip off her mother’s old block, and B. regarded her involvement in his former wife’s homicide case with a disdain similar to Bob Larson’s attitude toward his own wife’s being “too full of business.”

“Mr. Simpson’s already gone,” Alonzo Rivera observed as he handed Ali her first cup of coffee.

“I noticed,” Ali said with a nod. “I’m afraid his nose is a little out of joint with me at the moment, so I’ll go to work, keep my head down, and hope it all blows over.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes,” Ali answered. “As a matter of fact, there is. Please make meatloaf for dinner. That always puts him in a good mood.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Alonzo said with a smile and a mock salute. “Will do.”

At the office, Ali was amazed to find Stu’s Dodge Ram pickup parked in its assigned place.

“I had no idea Stu would be coming back to work today,” Ali said to Shirley as she walked past the reception desk.

“Neither did anyone else,” Shirley replied.

“I distinctly remember telling him that he should take the next few days off.”

Shirley smiled. “In my experience, Stu Ramey isn’t very good at taking suggestions.”

Ali made her way through the office to the lab, where she found Stu at his workstation. “I thought you were going to take some time off. Don’t they need you at the ranch?”

“Why would they?” he asked. “Everybody there knows what they’re doing. Besides, I scattered Aunt Julia’s ashes yesterday, just like she wanted me to. I’m better off being here working than I would be sitting at home brooding.”

“Okay, then,” Ali replied. “Work to your heart’s content.”

In response to Stu’s dismissive wave, Ali took her leave and returned to her office. She eased into her chair and took a deep breath. Cami was on her way to the UK and maybe walking into danger, but it was comforting to know that one of Sonja Bjornson’s top operatives, someone named Rachel Bloom, would be waiting for her at Heathrow.

According to Rachel’s CV, she was a former intelligence officer for the Israeli Defense Forces where she had worked in cybersecurity. She was also a top marksman and trained in martial arts, including Cami’s favorite—Krav Maga. Cami had objected to being handed over to the care of a babysitter. Ali hoped their relationship might morph into something resembling a friendship.

After spending all of Friday dealing with Stu’s Aunt Julia situation, Ali’s desk was the same disaster it had been when she had shipped the tax packet off to the accountant on Thursday. In other words, all the things she’d let slide during the tax season were still waiting for her. She started by clearing her desk and taking care of anything that was actively ticking. At the bottom of the heap was something she was actually looking forward to handling—a file folder marked AMELIA DOUGHERTY SCHOLARSHIP, 2023 .

For the past ten years, in addition to her CFO duties at High Noon Enterprises, Ali had been in charge of administering the Amelia Dougherty Scholarship Program, the Verde Valley–based nonprofit from which she herself had once benefited. One of their full ride scholarships had allowed her to go on to college.

At the time Ali first began overseeing the scholarship program, it had been limited to girls only and gave out only one scholarship a year. After some strategic fundraising on Ali’s part, there were now two winners per year, and both boys and girls were welcome to apply.

As applications came in, Ali read through them, setting aside the ones that really caught her attention. She wasn’t necessarily looking for kids with the highest GPAs or for those whose athletic abilities made them A-listers. She tended to focus on kids who were slightly out of the norm—ones who exhibited a spark of spunk and ambition and whose family’s financial situation clearly wouldn’t support their sending a child off to college.

This year’s application deadline had been March 1. Each applicant had been asked to provide a copy of their school transcripts along with two letters of recommendation. They were also required to write an essay on one of three topics: What Family Means to Me; The Most Important Person in My Life; and Where I Hope to Be in Twenty Years.

During her tax prep ordeal, Ali had scanned through the paperwork and read all the essays as they came in, setting aside those that touched her. Out of more than fifty essays, only two had made the final cut and landed in the second, much-thinner folder inside the first. Now, sitting alone in her quiet office, Ali reread those two essays, starting with one from a boy named Daniel Knowles.

My parents never went to college. My dad’s an electrician. My mom’s a housewife who takes care of her mother. They don’t understand why I want to go to college and run up an armload of college debt just to become a teacher when I could sign up for an apprenticeship program and earn money while I’m learning how to become an electrician. Dad says I’ll make way more money doing that than I will teaching school, but teaching is still what I want to do, and that’s because of the most important person in my life—Mrs. Donner.

From first grade on, I hated school. The other kids were able to learn how to read. I wasn’t, so I turned myself into the class clown. I was always in trouble and spent a lot of time in the principal’s office. I flunked first grade and third grade, too. Finally, in fourth grade, they put me in special ed. That’s when I met Mrs. Donner. She was the one who finally figured out that I couldn’t read.

One day, she kept me in during recess. I thought I had done something wrong. Instead, she came over to my desk, gave me a Superman comic book, and told me, “This is how you’re going to learn to read.”

And I did. I could see what was going on in the pictures, but I wanted to know what the characters were thinking and saying. To do that, you had to understand what was in the bubbles. One bubble at a time, she taught me how to read.

This is Mrs. Donner:

Below was a hand-drawn sketch of an older woman and a young boy. The smiling woman was white-haired and holding a Superman comic book. The boy was grinning from ear to ear. The words in the woman’s bubble said, “Danny, you can learn to read.”

If a picture is worth a thousand words, that one did it for Ali. Yes, it was a cartoon, but she suspected that the skillfully done drawing closely resembled the real Mrs. Donner, and the words in her bubble spoke volumes about her and about the student whose life she had transformed for the better. The fact that a personal letter of recommendation from Mrs. Donner was included in Daniel’s scholarship packet all these years later testified to the fact that kids lucky enough to be Mrs. Donner’s students, remained her students for life.

By fifth grade, she said I was caught up enough to be placed back in a regular classroom. When that happened, the kids who always used to call me stupid still did, but I knew better. That’s when I started drawing, and I haven’t stopped. This year some of my drawings will be included in the high school yearbook.

Since my parents are against my going on to school, I haven’t applied anywhere because I don’t know how I’d pay for it. I still stay in touch with Mrs. Donner, and she’s the person who said I should apply for this scholarship. She said that if I become a teacher, I could spend my summers off writing graphic novels. If I do that, maybe someday I can help some other dyslexic kid learn how to read.

Like Daniel’s parents, neither of Ali’s folks had attended college, but unlike Daniel’s parents, they had never tried to discourage her from going. It had been Ali’s mother’s twin sister—her Aunt Evie—who had put Ali in touch with the Amelia Dougherty Scholarship program. In Daniel’s case, it had been his very perceptive fourth grade teacher. Go Mrs. Donner , Ali thought.

Setting Daniel’s essay aside, she turned to the one from Susan Rojas.

The most important person in my life is my great-grandmother, Emelda Moreno. Five years ago, she was a widow in her seventies and living on her husband’s Social Security when my mother died of an overdose. When that happened, we were living in a homeless shelter. I came home from school one day and found Mom asleep in her bed. At first I thought she was taking a nap, but hours later I figured out she was dead.

I grew up in a totally dysfunctional family. I never knew my father, and both my mother and her mother were deep in drugs. After Mom died, when the social workers were looking for someone to take care of me, my mother’s grandmother, Grandma Moreno, stepped up.

For years, she and Grandpa Moreno managed an RV park in Oak Creek. Their mobile home washed away in a flash flood in 2015. At that point, someone offered to let them live in an old RV on their property outside Cordes Junction. That’s where they were living when Grandpa died two years later, and that’s where we’re still living now. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but it’s better than living on the street.

We have to pay for utilities, but we don’t pay any rent. Some money comes in from my mother’s Social Security, but that will stop once I turn eighteen. Then all Grandma Moreno will have to live on is Grandpa’s Social Security. She makes tamales each week, and I sell them at the farmers market, but what we make from those doesn’t go very far.

My teachers keep telling me that I’m smart enough to go to college. That’s why I’m writing this essay, because my school counselor made me promise I would. But I’ve done some research on Amelia Dougherty Scholarships. They go to people who can pursue higher education on a full-time basis. I can’t. Grandma is almost eighty now. She looked after me when I needed it, and now I need to look after her.

If a scholarship from you would allow me to take college courses online, that would be a huge blessing.

Ali finished reading Susan’s essay with a lump in her throat. She had no doubt that Susan Rojas, like Daniel Knowles, needed to go on to college, but the scholarship program didn’t take into account caring for elderly relatives. And encouraging this young woman to opt out on her self-assigned responsibility for looking after her great-grandmother wasn’t something Ali was prepared to do.

By then Ali was sure that her first impression of the letters had been the right one, and her decision was made. She wasn’t sure how, but one way or another, Daniel and Susan would be this year’s winners. By then, it was almost quitting time. Putting the essays back into the file, Ali picked up her purse, shut off the lights in her office, closed the door, squared her shoulders, and went in search of B.

The lab where he and Lance were working on GHOST’s latest upgrade was just down the hall. Ali had learned that once they got caught up in a project, they both loved what they were doing so much, the two of them lost all sense of time. On this occasion, however, she was unsure of her reception.

“Okay,” she announced, opening the door to the lab. “Work’s over. I’m about to pull the plug on both of you. Time to go home.”

“Do we have to?” B. whined, doing his best to imitate an intransigent kid who doesn’t want to go to bed.

“Yes, you have to,” she insisted. “Alonzo’s back. He’s making meatloaf for dinner, and we shouldn’t be late.”

“Speaking of Alonzo,” B. said as they left the building to walk to the parking lot. “He sent me a text earlier this afternoon. He said he’d like to have a chat with us after dinner. I suggested he join us for dinner instead.”

Alonzo usually prepared and ate his own meals in the fifth wheel RV that served as his residence, which was parked on the far side of their garage. The RV had belonged to their previous majordomo, Leland Brooks. Ali and B. had taken it off his hands when he had retired and returned to the UK. Alonzo had lived there the whole time he had worked for them.

Ali felt her heart fall. “Oh, no,” she said. “I hope he’s not quitting.”

“I do, too,” B. said. “Having him around makes both our lives so much easier.”

When they reached the parking lot, B. paused. “My car or yours?” he asked.

The fact that B. was suggesting they ride home together made Ali hope that all was forgiven.

“How about yours?” Ali asked. “I’m sorry about last night—”

“And I’m sorry I stormed out,” B. interrupted. “I know you well enough to understand that once you get your teeth into something, you’re like a dog with a bone, and you’re not going to let go. So do what you do, but please leave me out of it. All this brings up too much bad stuff for me, and I’m not ready to go there. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” Ali agreed.

With that they headed home in B.’s Audi.

“Now that the taxes are done, what were you up to today?” B. asked.

“It’s scholarship time,” she reported. “I’ve picked my two winners, but there are a few bumps in the road that will need to be sorted.”

“Care to talk about it?”

“Still at the thinking stage,” she answered.

“I’ve been thinking, too,” B. said. “Alonzo’s been spending a lot more time in Phoenix recently. I’m wondering if he has a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend?” Ali repeated. “He told us he’s a confirmed bachelor.”

B. shot her a look. “Every guy’s a confirmed bachelor, right up until he meets The One,” he said with a grin. “Look what happened to me. I had no intention of ever marrying again, and then you came along.”

“Right,” Ali agreed grudgingly. “If that turns out to be the case, I’ll be sure to wish them well.”

Upon entering the house, they were greeted with two tantalizing aromas—the scents of freshly baked bread and Alonzo’s incomparable meatloaf.

“Dinner’s in about half an hour,” he told them as they stepped into the kitchen. On the way through the dining room, Ali noticed that the table was set for three, with wineglasses a part of each place setting.

This is more than just a chat , she thought.

She was right. As soon as dinner started, B. went straight to the heart of the matter.

“So what’s the deal, Alonzo?” he asked. “What do we need to talk about?”

Alonzo came right out with it. “I’m getting married,” he said.

Fortunately, Ali had had enough advance warning that she wasn’t caught completely off guard.

“Congratulations,” she said at once. “That’s wonderful. Who is the lucky lady? How did the two of you meet? How long have you known her? And when’s the big day?”

Alonzo took the barrage of questions in good humor. “Her name is Gwen Wright. Her mother’s place is next to my aunty’s place in Glendale. She’s been living in California and moved back to Phoenix last summer. We met when my Aunt Rose hosted a birthday pool party for Gwen’s seven-year-old niece. She does medical transcriptions, so she was working remotely long before the pandemic. We want to get married, but I can’t very well ask her to come live in the RV. I know my living rent-free has always been part of my compensation, but…”

Suddenly Ali felt as though a lightbulb had exploded in her head. Here was the answer to her Susan Rojas problem—a way for Susan to go on to school while not abandoning her great-grandmother. What was needed was an RV, an almost pristine one at that, and one of those was already in hand. If Alonzo went to live somewhere else, his RV could be moved to a convenient location near whatever college campus Susan Rojas chose to attend.

“In that case,” Ali said, interrupting Alonzo in mid-sentence, “it sounds as though you’ll need a raise. How much?”

Alonzo seemed flustered by Ali’s direct approach. “We can’t afford to buy, of course,” but I found a nice apartment in Cottonwood that’s two thousand dollars a month, utilities included.”

“Done,” Ali said. “No problem. We’ll give you a raise to cover that as of this month, and if the apartment you like is still available, I suggest you grab it. When’s the wedding?”

Now it was B.’s turn to be gobsmacked. Ali saw the astonished expression on her husband’s face, but he made no objection.

“In a few weeks, maybe?” Alonzo suggested dubiously. “We’re thinking of eloping to Vegas to tie the knot.”

“Getting married in Vegas certainly worked for us,” Ali told him with a smile, “and the wedding package at Treasure Island was great. We’ll be glad to help any way we can. Just let us know.”

With that she got up, walked around the table, and gave Alonzo a hug. “You’ve been worth your weight in gold and still are. I don’t know how we would have gotten through the pandemic without you, and we can’t wait to meet Gwen.”

“How about next weekend?” Alonzo suggested tentatively. “Saturday for dinner, maybe?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Here, here,” B. said. “I believe a toast is in order.”

And it was.

Later, when dinner was over and B. and Ali were settled in the library, B. gave her a sidelong look. “You’re not much of a negotiator,” he said. “You gave away the store without even waiting for him to ask.”

“No problem,” Ali said. “It seemed like a fine negotiation to me. I got everything I wanted.”

“Everything you wanted?” B. repeated with a frown.

“Remember how, on the way home, I told you I had a scholarship problem? Being able to use Alonzo’s RV for student housing is going to make it possible for a very deserving young woman to go on to school while also caring for her eighty-year-old great-grandmother.”

“Wait,” B. said. “You’re expecting an eighty-something-year-old woman to live in an RV with a college student?”

“She’s currently living in a much older and probably smaller RV with a high school student,” Ali said. “Since they were given the one they’re living in for free a number of years ago, I’m guessing it’s not in nearly as good condition as the one Alonzo has been using. As for Alonzo? He deserves to have a personal life, and now’s a good time for him to do it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a win-win.”

B. shook his head in mock exasperation. “Next you’ll probably be offering to pay for the wedding package,” he grumbled.

Ali grinned back at him. “That’s the wonderful thing about being the CFO. I know exactly how much money we have coming and going. As far as Alonzo’s raise is concerned, I know we can afford it, and although I hadn’t really thought about paying for the wedding, now that you mention it, that sounds like a great idea.”