Retreat (23 page)

    
It was nearly five when she powered down
her computer, which had remained glitch-free for the remainder of the
afternoon. She packed up her things to head back to the house to gather
everything she needed for the retreat. She made a side trip to the mall on her
way home and picked up the hiking boots she’d forgotten to buy on her last two
trips.

    
As she drove under the canopy of trees
toward the bungalow she marveled at the amount of time, and money, she’d spent
buying just the right hiking boots, sneakers and sandals to be ready for any
type of teambuilding exercise Karen might throw their way. She’d bought a
variety of layers, too, because she wasn’t sure how cool the mornings and
evenings would grow up on the mountain.

    
She pulled the Acura into its spot on the
side of the house and frowned as she stepped over a new package that was
sitting on the front porch. As she pushed the door open she was surprised to
see that the mail carrier had been there, too. A small pile of letters and
magazines was scattered across the living room floor, having landed haphazardly
as they were slipped through the slender slot in the door.

    
She picked up the mail and the package,
went into the kitchen and opened up the fridge. She pulled a head of romaine
and some fresh vegetables from the crisper and made a salad.

    
The bungalow was quiet now that dusk was
falling and the activity out on the lake had nearly stopped. When she’d lived
alone in Texas
she’d turn on the television for background noise to drown out the sounds
around her. Without cable the television offered only an unpleasant low-grade
hum that was more unnerving than the silence. She briefly looked through
Grammy’s three-tape VHS collection but, finding nothing of interest, she
clicked on the radio.

    
She flipped through a health magazine that
was addressed to her as she finished off her salad. David must have put the
forward in motion when he got her address from Meg. She wondered what else he’d
changed on her behalf. She was grateful that she hadn’t entered into any joint
bills with him, which made the break sweepingly easier than if they’d had to
disentangle their financial matters in addition to their personal ones.

    
She was reading an article about the latest
breakthroughs in skin cream when her eye caught on a folded note peeking out
from beneath the pile of mail on the kitchen table.

    
She stared at the note for a few seconds
and then returned to her magazine. She continued nibbling at her salad. When
she finished she took her plate to the sink and poured a glass of ice water.
Then she sat back down and reached for the note.

    
Clara
,
the ink from her favorite blue pen splashed across the top of the page.

    
Thank
you for letting us stay here last night. Elizabeth and I appreciate it. Beck.

    
She set the note down on the kitchen table
and closed her eyes.

    
A thank you note? she thought. I really
don’t get that girl.

    
She finished off her water and then pulled
her laptop out of its bag. Karen had sent them each a packet of materials she
wanted them to read before the retreat. Clara double-clicked on the folder and
opened the documents one by one.

    
The first was a worksheet that asked a lot
of questions about how she perceived herself as a leader within the company.
She filled it out as best she could, but left a lot of it blank since she’d
only been working again for three days.

    
The second document was a ten-page article
about the importance of harnessing the personal power of the corporate team.
She skimmed it, realizing quickly that she wasn’t much of a team player unless
she was the one running the show.

    
The third document was a set of directions
to Foster’s Glen and “housekeeping” information about where they’d stay and
what to expect when they got there. Apparently Karen planned to hand out
agendas each morning and afternoon to allow for maximum flexibility if the team
needed more time to work on certain areas.

    
The last document in the pack was one that
Clara could sink her teeth into. It was a list of potential directions for a
new strategic plan. While Clara didn’t think they needed a group exercise to
come up with a kick-ass strategic plan, she did think she had some pretty
stellar ideas of the direction they needed to go.

    
She began to sketch out the framework for
the plan on a yellow legal pad, looking for new customer and product lines to
explore. She figured in the value of the new venture capital that her dad was
raising and tried to surmise what he was thinking by inviting them in. She
pulled a dog-eared copy of the current business plan from her laptop bag and
reread it, amazed at the depth of her father’s knowledge of the industry. She
layered on what she knew about investors and their needs and customer
preferences and expanded the plan.

    
When she finally broke out of the zone it
was nearly
midnight
. She
packed up everything she’d been working on and fell into bed, too tired to
think about anything else.
 

    
When she woke the next morning she was surprised
to see that she’d forgotten to set the alarm and ended up sleeping until
8:00
. She rolled out of the old
full-size bed and showered, then finished packing everything she thought she’d
need for the retreat, including the papers she’d been working on the night
before.

    
She toted it all out to her car, then went
back inside to make sure everything was locked up.

    
Her eyes lit on the small, square package
that had arrived the day before and was still sitting unopened on the kitchen
table. She picked it up to put in on the corner chair in her bedroom with the
other one, but it was so light that she stopped and reconsidered.

    
She set the package back down on the table
and grabbed a knife to cut through the packing tape that held it closed. She
pulled the flaps up and waded through a mound of biodegradable packing peanuts.
She was beginning to wonder if there was anything in the package at all when
she felt an envelope stuck to the bottom of the box.

    
She pulled it out and immediately
recognized the stationery that she and David bought to send thank you notes
after the wedding. It had been embossed with their initials: T.C. & C.C.

    
C.S., she thought as she slipped the paper
from the envelope and unfolded it.

    
You forgot to
open your gift last night
.

    
She froze, staring at the familiar
handwriting.

    
After a moment she picked up the box and
looked again at the return address. It was definitely Tulsa, but there was no meter stamp so she
had no way of knowing if it had originated there or not.

    
Or been mailed at all.

    
She spun and looked at the box sitting on
the chair in her bedroom. Her hands flew up to her mouth and her heart began to
beat rapidly.

    
She took a deep breath and forced her hands
away from her face.

    
Bullshit! she cursed at herself. I’m not
doing this.

    
She grabbed her purse from the kitchen
table and left the bungalow, carefully locking the door behind her. He was
trying to freak her out and she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
Whatever was in that box was sure to be awful and she didn’t want to have
anything to do with it.

    
She headed into town to the Spritzer &
Spritzer parking lot, where she was the first to arrive. She considered calling
Grady and telling him about the latest package. She hated to admit that it
really unnerved her to think that David was spying on her somehow. It really
wasn’t his style.

    
Or maybe he just knows my style, she
thought.

    
It was definitely a possibility. Maybe he
knew she wouldn’t open the second package after what she’d found in the first
one. He’d certainly seen her toss mail away unopened before, so maybe he’d
guessed she’d do the same thing with his packages.

    
One thing was for sure, he was trying to
screw with her, and he wasn’t giving up as easily as she’d suspected.

    
She decided to wait to see what happened
when she got back from the retreat. She continued to suspect that he’d get
bored with his little games if she just ignored him. He’d never had the stamina
to stick with anything for long. If it turned out that he didn’t back off,
she’d call Grady and maybe the Tulsa
police as well.

    
Several minutes passed before Josie pulled
up in a rented red minivan, complete with a built-in car seat for Elizabeth. Clara loaded
her bags into the back, which was already nearly full. She recognized the two
small bags Rebecca had with her the night before last and two larger bags from
her mother’s canary yellow luggage set. She assumed the large black suitcase
was Meg’s. She shoved her things on top and then climbed into the front passenger
seat next to her mother, while Rebecca sat in the middle with the baby and Meg
took the backseat for herself.

    
“Did you bring some stuff to keep Elizabeth occupied?”
Clara asked, glancing back at Rebecca.

    
“No, I just thought she’d stare out the window
the whole trip,” Rebecca replied caustically. “Of course I brought things for
her.”

    
Clara nodded and turned back toward the
windshield.

    
“I’m not an idiot you know,” Rebecca
snarled.

    
“I didn’t say you were,” Clara said.

    
“Don’t start, girls,” Josie warned, gazing
at Rebecca in the rearview mirror and then casting a sideways glance at Clara.
“You’re not 12 anymore. We have a long ride ahead of us and I don’t feel like
listening to the two of you bicker.”

    
“Do you want me to drive?” Clara asked
Josie hopefully, feeling helpless in the passenger’s seat. At least if she was
driving she’d have a solid reason to ignore her sister.

    
“Maybe later,” Josie said. “If I feel like
I need a break.”

    
“Okay. Just let me know when,” Clara said,
settling back against her seat and crossing her arms.

    
Josie clicked on the radio. Clara gazed out
the window as they passed through Brighton on
their way to the interstate, which they would follow for about an hour west and
then exit onto a two-lane road that would wind around the countryside for more
than 100 miles until they reached Foster’s Glen.

    
They’d picked a gorgeous day to start their
retreat. The sun was working its way higher into a flawless blue sky, and the
temperature had begun its steady ascent to a comfortable 75 degrees. The music
was soft rock, not Clara’s favorite but pleasant enough nonetheless for mixed
company. They listened until the station began to fade, and then listened
instead to Elizabeth
as she babbled contently to herself from the middle seat.

    
“So, what’s this trip all about, anyway?”
Rebecca asked as they eased off the interstate. She’d managed to stay quiet for
the majority of the trip until now, much to Clara’s pleasure. Her question now
was one she’d let her mother answer.

    
Josie just stared out the windshield,
concentrating intently on the road in front of her.

    
“It’s a retreat,” Meg said impatiently from
the backseat when she saw neither Clara nor Josie planned to elaborate on the
purpose of their journey. “The goal of it is to help us all get to know each
other better.”

    
“And to create a strategic direction for
the company,” Clara added. She felt like she knew most of the players well
enough already and those she didn’t know she could learn more about in one
business meeting than in a whole year of retreating. For her, the only
advantage of getting away with them was to get them to focus on strategy. She
hoped that was Karen’s plan, too, but she had her doubts. Karen had never
struck her as anything more than a new-age flake.

    
“So, like, what will we do?” Rebecca asked,
leaning up so that her arms rested between the driver’s and passenger’s seats.
Clara realized she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

    
“No one knows,” Josie said. “Karen will
tell us when we get there.”

    
“Karen will be there?” Rebecca asked,
suddenly excited. Clara thought they’d told her that before but apparently it
hadn’t sunk in. “Oh man, I haven’t seen her since forever. I love Karen.”