Joe Higdon, the frizzy-haired guest from cabin six, said with a snicker. “Took me until age sixty-one to realize I was a fanatic workaholic in need of relaxation.”
Several other guests nodded their heads—which were in various states of balding.
“Do yourself a favor, Jake m’boy,” Will Randell remarked as he grabbed a glass of decaffeinated tea. “Learn to take life a little easier now so you don’t end up like me. Now I’m trying to make each day count and have some fun along the way.”
“No, kidding, kid,” Eugene Morris, the guest from cabin eight, chimed in. “I had to have myself a heart attack before I realized I was pressing too hard. Scared the bejeezus out of me.”
“Yeah, well, try hyperventilating and collapsing at the podium while giving a speech at a corporate board meeting,” Harold Pinkly, the guest from cabin nine, spoke up. “That will open your eyes in a hurry.”
While Jake parked himself at the head of the table—being the guest of honor that he was—he heard testimonials from everyone except the sour-faced gent who made it apparent that he was a little too good to be bonding with a bunch of corporate-whiz has-beens.
While Jake devoured the moist, delicious strawberry cake and ice cream, he formed closer acquaintances with the men. He was surprised that Moriah’s guests hailed from all parts of the country. Obviously her resort’s reputation was known far and wide, because Joe was from Dallas, Harold from Omaha and Eugene from Detroit.
Immediately, the cogs in Jake’s brain started cranking. He could create an incredible Web site to promote Moriah’s resort, one with enticing scenic pictures, peaceful music and all the necessary blurbs to advertise her myriad of recreational activities. Add to that a few testimonials praising positive results, a couple of tips for relaxation, and Moriah would have stressed-out businessmen clambering to her cabins in the panoramic valley.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to skip the fun and games and have a look at my cabin,” Robert Fullerton demanded as he stared down his nose at Moriah. “I’ve had a long drive from Saint Louis, after all.”
“Sure thing.” Moriah vaulted from her chair, her cheerful smile intact. “I’ll show you to the cabin.”
Jake was unprepared for his agitated reaction to Fullerton’s snippy attitude toward Moriah. It was fine for him to fling barbs at her, but let someone else come down hard on her and it ticked Jake off royally. Jeez, he had no right to feel possessive or protective. He’d only been here a couple of days and kissed her once. He didn’t have any rights whatsoever…but that didn’t stop him from feeling the urge to put in his two cents’ worth. With great effort he kept his trap shut and ate his birthday cake.
When the party crowd migrated to the living area to watch Will demonstrate his new electronic gadget that controlled the lights and catch the evening news, weather and sports, Jake took a long hard look at the other guests. It dawned on him—hit him like a lightning bolt, actually—that he was staring into his own bleak future when he gazed at these older men who’d worked themselves into anxiety attacks, heart seizures and strokes. He could be back here in twenty years, learning to take a more laid-back approach to life.
Jeez, Louise! He might become a burden to his sisters who, by then, would have children of their own and additional family expenses. He’d be the shriveled up, burned-out uncle stuffed in the corner and his nieces and nephews would have to veer around him on their way out the door to enjoy life. He’d probably have to be spoon-fed meals because carpal tunnel syndrome would cause his hands and wrists to function improperly.
Damn, he needed to chill out a little, he decided. He needed to find a hobby that he enjoyed and work it into his business routine…. He needed to take some time to stop and smell the roses….
The epiphany made him bolt upright and take another look around the room at the older men who were drumming their fingers on the armrests of their chairs, tapping their feet, twitching nervously and squirming restlessly in their seats. Holy cow! He realized his fingers were clenched around his glass of iced tea and he was tapping his foot. He forced himself to relax and unwind.
Okay, so maybe he was wound up tighter than a spring. He could fix that if he stayed the full two weeks and dedicated his time to recreational activity. Just because he made a pact with himself, there and then, to take his life at a less hectic pace didn’t mean he had to give up his devotion to his sisters and their new husbands. He could fulfill his professional responsibilities and keep a close family bond and still drop what he was doing when his sisters needed him. That would never change. Kim and Lisa would always be top priority because he’d made a commitment—financially and emotionally—to be there for them when needed. But he sure as hell didn’t want his sisters and brothers-in-law to have to care for him when he stumbled over the edge because he worked himself into an early collapse! After all, he was only good at relationships where others were dependent on him, same as Moriah was. He couldn’t function as the dependent in a relationship. It would feel too unnatural.
Jake surged from his chair and strode purposely toward Tom Stevens who was lounging in the La-Z-Boy recliner. “Tom, I’d like a massage, first thing in the morning. Can you work me in?”
Tom glanced up, his unibrow soaring up to his hair-line. “No kidding? Good for you, Jake. Sure thing. How about right after breakfast?”
Jake nodded. “I’m there.”
After Tom gave him two thumbs-up and flashed a toothy grin, Jake wheeled toward Kent, the bowlegged wrangler in charge of the stables and livestock. “Sign me up for a ride after my massage,” he requested. “And don’t put me on Ol’ Sally again. I want a horse with enough stamina and spirit to hold up for a two-hour ride.”
Kent chuckled at Jake’s newfound enthusiasm for recreation. “You bet, pardner. Want some company or is this a solo ride?”
“Solo,” Jake requested. “I plan to absorb the scenic countryside and do some in-depth personal meditation, if you don’t mind.”
Kent shrugged. “Sure, whatever you need, Jake. I used to do some serious meditation after one of those crazed rodeo bulls launched me through the air, then tried to trample me when I hit the dirt. That’s why I’m here instead of ridin’ the suicide circuit. I woke up in the hospital one day with my ribs busted and my knee twisted from its socket. I realized there had to be an easier way to make a livin’.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Tom agreed as he massaged his bulky shoulder. “I used to be an offensive tackle for the Dallas Cowboys until a bruiser, who was bigger and meaner, laid me out and knocked me unconscious. He also separated me from a few teeth. I decided I was getting too old and brittle to butt heads and fly all over the country, living out of a suitcase.”
“Same for me,” Chester Gray commented as he twisted in his chair to glance up at Jake. “I attacked the pro golf tour like a maniac for years. Got to where I couldn’t remember where I called home and booze was my most reliable companion.” He shook his sandy head and smiled ruefully. “Thanks to Moriah, I’m doing what I love and helping other folks take up the game of golf for pleasure and relaxation. Nothing makes me happier than giving a few pointers and then seeing one of the guests drive the ball down the fairway, after they’d whiffed it a few times without my help.”
Jake didn’t know where Moriah had found this motley group, but obviously she was a decent judge of character when it came to handpicking her staff. No doubt, she’d taken them under wing and worked her recreational magic on them as well. He suspected these relationships she had developed with her staff had originated from
