Echoes in the Mist

By Rifi Strawn

City girl, Stanley Howard risks losing a multi-million-dollar inheritance to charity if she fails to fulfill her deceased aunt's last wish. Torn between obligation and fear of exotic animals, the pampered diva is forced to live in a Zambian wildlife sanctuary. She can handle the handsome lodge manager's dreamy eyes and the tough volunteer jobs h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rifi Strawn
• Release date: May 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781733715867

Book preview

Echoes in the Mist

by

Rifi Strawn

Echoes in the Mist

by Rifi Strawn

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used factitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, event or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright ©2020 Rifi Strawn

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher.

E-book ISBN: 978-1-7337158-6-7

Print ISBN: 978-1-7337158-7-4

Dedication

Thank you, Jim, for always supporting me

with your time and encouragement in all my adventures.

Acknowledgments

Editing: Sharon Pickrel

Publicist: Audra Lewandowski

Cover Art: Diana Carlile

Formatting: Diana Carlile

Chapter One

Where’s Zoie? Stanley asked.

Don’t ask me, the set designer said, adding the finishing touches to the backdrop. You’re the marketing director.

The production studio for the new ad buzzed with activity. The teleprompter was in place and ready to go. There wasn’t a single thing she’d change. The only thing missing was her Aunt Zoie, the star of her marketing campaign.

Stanley paced the floor and checked her phone. The silver-haired leading lady was half-an-hour late. Aunt Zoie’s wrinkle-free skin and radiant face were supposed to convince women over fifty to use their family-owned company’s anti-aging skincare line.

She stepped outside the production studio into the quieter hall to make the phone call. A deep raspy voice answered after the first ring. Thank God, I don’t need to call an ambulance. Are you on your way? We only have two hours for this shoot.

I’m not coming.

I can’t do this ad without you.

It’s time I stepped back and let you take over. You’re right—I’m alienating the younger crowd from our beauty products. I was eighteen when I started using my grandma’s anti-aging cream. We should market to the young, too.

Aunt Zoie, you’re the CEO. This campaign is based on the founder of the company believing in her products and using them. She lowered her voice. Without your approval, I can’t go forward with this promo.

You have my permission to proceed without me, and to do whatever is necessary. Sorry about holding up the shoot, I forgot it was today. Aunt Zoie laughed nervously. See, I’m getting old. I don’t want one of my mistakes to take the company down.

Stanley flipped her long, silky brown hair over her shoulder. You can’t back out now. This is the largest ad campaign in the history of our cosmetic company.

Darling, I have complete confidence in your abilities. It’s time I retired. Not many thirty-five-year-olds can do what you do with consistent success.

She smirked at the micromanaging CEO’s sudden relinquishment of power. Is this a test or something?

No more tricks or tests.

Well…I didn’t expect this.

Stanley, I know this is short notice, but I want you to come with me on my trip to Zambia.

You’re going back to Africa? Are you kidding me? Stanley rubbed her forehead. I can’t even think about vacationing now that I’ve inherited your work, too.

It’s never convenient to take time off from work. Trust me on this one. Neil can handle the company in your absence. I really want you to come with me on this safari.

I wish I could go with you, but after this ad goes live, we could be swamped with orders. She checked the time. I better get back to work. The studio and the crew are costing us by the minute.

Think about my offer, love. And don’t worry about work. You’re very good at what you do. There’s a reason why you’re the marketing director.

Chest tight, Stanley ended the call. Weeks of hard work down the drain. Was Aunt Zoie losing her mind? This trip to Zambia came out of nowhere. Her mind churned with new ideas. She rushed to the dressing room to change clothes and get the shoot going. Her risky new ad might give her aunt a heart attack.

Heart thumping, she walked on the set in a gold thong bikini. Squinting from the overhead lights in her face, she smiled from the echoing whistles and claps of approval from the camera crew and the sound man.

Her assistant Neil’s gaze skimmed her body and gave her two thumbs up. You heading to the beach?

Times are changing. We need to update our ad and give the competition something to worry about. She sat on a barstool for the makeup artist to get her face ready for the camera.

Neil smiled, folded his arms, and tossed his head back. Oh, so you’re doing the shoot in that?

I can’t think of a better way to advertise anti-aging skincare products. The more skin, the better.

He snapped his fingers to get the crew’s attention. Let the camera roll.

Stomach in knots, she lay on top of an antique, pink velvet settee with feet up in her rhinestone-studded sandals. She looked into the camera and smiled.

Stop. Fold your left leg over. Neil pointed to his chest. Now, look at me like you know what I did last night. Like I was a bad boy.

Want smooth, supple, radiant skin at any age? she purred. Look no further than our collagen-inducing serum…

Neil smiled. Yes. That’s it.

An hour later, he clapped in celebration. It’s a wrap. He gave her a robe to wear. You killed it.

Her voice hoarse from repeating her lines, she rubbed her aching back. Looking sexy for the camera hurts. I need a massage. She slipped into the robe and tied the sash around her waist.

You make looking gorgeous so easy. Neil smiled. Excellent job.

She adjusted her thong bikini riding up her butt. Aunt Zoie will either have a heart attack or cancel this ad when she sees it.

I have a feeling with this ad our sales are going to go through the roof. Her childhood friend’s big, brown eyes twinkled. Get ready for some marriage proposals from your new fans. You’re smoking hot in that bikini.

Stanley glanced at Neil’s clean-shaven handsome face and smooth skin. I hope this is not just an expensive mistake. Next time, we should do the ad together to attract both sexes.

No thanks. I’d rather direct the shoots. His sympathetic gaze swept her face. Stop worrying. Go home and rest.

She changed into her clothes and zipped up her jacket. On her way out, she stopped to look at her frozen image on a TV screen. The spotlight had hit her skin just right to make it shimmer from the gold dust her makeup artist had sprinkled on at the last second. She didn’t look half bad. Her grueling workouts at the gym had paid off.

~*~

The next morning at home, Stanley turned on the TV. Her pulse began to race as she saw her body in a scanty gold bikini during a morning talk show. The million-dollar, thirty-second ad seemed to last forever.

She waited anxiously for her phone to ring. She’d rehearsed the perfect apology. Asking forgiveness was easier than getting Aunt Zoie’s permission. Maybe she’d get lucky this time and get only a short lecture.

She called Neil around lunch. Hey, has Aunt Zoie called you?

No. His excitement bubbled over. Have you looked at your social media?

Not yet. I’ve been worried about other things.

Our new ad has gone viral.

Really? She checked her social media and read numerous sexy comments. My aunt will have a fit when she sees these.

Hey, your aunt has no room to complain. She ditched her ad last minute.

Stanley beamed as she read more incoming comments. Oh, my God, I didn’t expect this. People love it.

We have over a million hits, and several hundred orders have come in. Half of them are from men. He chuckled. Your gold bikini reached a market we didn’t expect.

She cringed at the new company slogan that had now become the catchphrase. If you can’t lick it, don’t use it. Maybe licking the cream off my arm was a bit much.

Are you kidding me? That was brilliant. Now everyone wants a taste. You know it’s good marketing when young guys are ordering our anti-aging cream.

~*~

Stanley sat at her desk at work, staring at her phone. It was just after sunset and her Aunt Zoie still hadn’t called, texted, or emailed. This was not good. Maybe she should let her cool off before calling. She could be preoccupied with her trip to Zambia. Why bother her?

Neil walked in her office with a dolly full of boxes. Here are your donations for the week.

She sighed. I’m dreading seeing Aunt Zoie tonight.

Stop worrying. She gave you the authority to do whatever was necessary, and you exercised your option. He carried the boxes to the parking garage and loaded the skincare products in her car. It’s nice of you to donate your time for a worthy cause considering how busy you are.

Thanks. Aunt Zoie turned me into a philanthropist. I can’t give up my job at the shelter. Those women need more encouragement.

Every week, she had made it a priority to teach destitute women how to find jobs. She liked how her facials and beauty tips gave them the confidence and put smiles on their faces. Nothing pleased her more than seeing those gloomy eyes light up with hope for a better future. Whenever she could, she’d hire some of these women in her family business.

~*~

Stanley scanned the shelter parking lot for Aunt Zoie’s car. Nothing. Maybe Mr. Reed, Aunt Zoie’s good friend, had given her a ride today. Anxiously, she walked through the glass door into the well-lit lobby.

She glanced over the twenty women with ages ranging from young teenage mothers to grandmothers waiting for her inspirational talk. Some of the emotionally battered faces were marked with bruises. A teenager had her lower arm in a cast.

Welcome ladies. I’m Stanley Howard. I’ve worked for nearly ten years in hiring and marketing for Zoie Cosmetics. I’m here to teach you how to get a good job. I’ll also show you how to care for your skin, dress for an interview, and put on makeup to enhance your features.

After a quick demonstration, she gave each woman a bag filled with Zoie Cosmetics skincare products. Her attention focused on a pretty teenaged mother. Gently, she applied the concealer to hide her bruises. What’s your name?

Holly.

You’re going to be okay, Holly, I promise. You’re on your way to a better life. Don’t look back. Only look ahead. You’re pretty and you carry yourself well. I’ll recommend you for a job at my company tomorrow.

Holly’s voice choked with tears. Thank you, miss. I didn’t know what I was going to do.

~*~

After three hours of uplifting the women, Stanley drove home exhausted. The reward for this job was priceless. Encouraging the women at the shelter gave her the same high as launching a new ad campaign.

She climbed into her comfy bed in her penthouse and pressed a remote button to close the silk curtains on the twinkling lights of the city. Just before turning off the tall crystal lamp on the elegant white, wooden nightstand, she checked her phone one more time. Still no call or texts from Aunt Zoie.

Chapter Two

Three months later, Stanley held a memorial service at Aunt Zoie’s farm house in northern California. Their family doctor and friend showed up.

How could Aunt Zoie keep her illness a secret from me?

She didn’t want anyone to know, the doctor said. I was bound by law to keep her medical records confidential.

Thank God, my sexy ad didn’t kill her. What else was her aunt hiding from her?

She sat behind the black Steinway baby grand piano in her aunt’s spacious living room. Sunshine and fresh air poured in through the open picture window. A gentle breeze fluttered the off-white linen panels hanging from a thick iron drapery rod.

The scent of fresh rosemary and lavender floated in from the herb garden her aunt had loved and nurtured for their skincare products. It couldn’t have been a better day to pay her last tribute to her beloved aunt and mentor.

Sixty or so of Aunt Zoie’s closest friends sat in portable chairs in the well-furnished large living room on top of an oversized light blue, handmade wool rug. Stanley’s teary eyes swept the oil painting of her aunt holding her as a child. She was so young and beautiful.

Her gentle fingers caressed the piano’s keys as she played her aunt’s favorite soft rock songs. The rich sound resonated off the wood-beamed ceiling, cream walls, and the antique furniture in the room. The pin-drop silence of the guests and their reverence reminded her of the church her aunt had attended.

Even though another woman sat in her aunt’s favorite wing chair by the burning stone fireplace, she saw only her Aunt Zoie’s radiant face. It was as if her aunt was still watching her practice her piano lessons.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She stopped playing, and after a long pause gathered her composure. "The first time I entertained my aunt, I was only three. My little legs dangled off this bench, and my fingers stretched hard on the keys to play, Mary had a little lamb. She paused to gather her composure. If it weren’t for my aunt’s daily encouragement, I probably wouldn’t have stuck with the piano lessons or the other things I’ve accomplished in my life… She taught me never to give up."

Growing up, she hated her aunt’s regimented routines. Still, they’d cultivated her talent into standing ovations at musical competitions, and groomed her into an expert to sell their skincare products with her family’s secret beauty recipes.

Ready to spread Aunt Zoie’s ashes in the herb garden after the service, she started to make the announcement to her friends. Wait, said Mr. Reed. The close family friend and executor of her aunt’s estate took her aside. Zoie had other plans for her ashes, he whispered. I have instructions for you.

She crossed her arms. What kind of instructions?

I’ll tell you after everyone leaves.

She led Mr. Reed to the kitchen table after the last car pulled away. The spacious room smelled of chicken salad, bread, and chocolate chip cookies she’d catered for the gathering.

Aunt Zoie conducted all her business at this table, so we should go over her last wishes here.

The elderly man sat across from her. As Zoie’s counsel, I’ve signed many contracts and documents here over the years.

Pride warmed her heart. Aunt Zoie signed her TV shopping network deal here.

Mr. Reed gleamed. I know, I was here on her behalf. He gave her a proud smile. The service and tribute to your aunt were beautiful. You did a great job.

Thank you. She caressed the color-stained wooden tabletop. As a child, I spent many hours here mixing organic beauty formulas with Aunt Zoie. I didn’t know she was training me for the job of a lifetime. She glanced at the three turquoise cosmetic jars on a silver tray at the end of the table. My aunt loved her beauty creams, even in death. She insisted I use these pretty containers for her ashes instead of a traditional burial urn.

Mr. Reed wiped a tear as he organized documents on the table. Zoie was a unique and beautiful woman.

Stanley checked the time. How long is this going to take? I’m driving back to San Francisco. I’d rather not drive at night.

Mr. Reed pushed his reading glasses up his long nose. I thought you were spending the night here?

I changed my mind. It’s sad to stay here without her.

I understand. He gave her a sympathetic look. I promise this won’t take over an hour.

She stood. Would you like some coffee?

No, thanks, I’m good.

She returned to the table with a steaming mug. Her sorrowful gaze roamed the house where she’d spent almost three-decades with her aunt. She’d never forget that dark and stormy night her parent’s died. Aunt Zoie was babysitting her that weekend, and she never went home again. The transition to full-time living with her aunt was easy. She’d spent more time with her than her musician parents, who were always traveling for work.

Mr. Reed adjusted his blue, silk handkerchief in his black suit pocket. She’d never met a more well-dressed and dignified man. Did he even own a pair of blue jeans? As always, his short, white, wavy hair was neatly combed back from his clean-shaven round face. Today his sad, sunken golden-brown eyes stood out on his ruddy complexion. Maybe he missed Aunt Zoie just as much as she did.

He cleared his throat. Stanley, my dear. Your aunt loved you very much. She made sure you are well-taken care of in her absence.

She pinched the bridge of her nose to block the tears. And I love her, too. Her voice grew heavy with guilt. I wish there was a direct line to heaven so I could talk to her. I miss her so much.

Mr. Reed sympathetically squeezed her hand. Sweetie, you can call me anytime you wish.

She soaked her tears with a paper napkin. Thank you.

He gave her a notarized document. This is your aunt’s recent financial statement.

Is this for real? She stared at the bottom line.

He chuckled. Oh, yes.

On paper, the listed value of her aunt’s multi-million-dollar estate seemed like monopoly money. There must be a typo or something in these numbers.

I can assure you this is no joke, he said solemnly. These legal documents bear the official seal of the State of California.

Stanley looked out the window at the herb garden. I don’t remember Aunt Zoie growing weed on this farm.

Mr. Reed gave her another document. This is what they call a royalty interest in the oil business. His eyes narrowed. Zoie never mentioned this to you?

No. She crossed her arms. She was very private about her financial affairs.

He nodded. Five years ago, Zoie struck black gold on her Oklahoma ranch. She was one of the few lucky property owners in Grady County to strike it filthy rich. His chest puffed. I helped her sign the deal with a major oil company. Her lucky streak now passes on to you. Zoie inherited her ranch from her parents, and they got it from their ancestors, who claimed their stake in the Oklahoma Land Rush. He pumped his fist in the air. Go, Sooners!

The numbers were unbelievable. This is all from oil money?

Yes, he grinned. Those oil wells pump money day and night while you sleep. If the oil company keeps drilling more wells on your ranch, you’ll only get richer.

She took a deep breath to calm her thumping heart. I had no clue.

He cleared his throat. I told Zoie to keep her new-found wealth under wraps to avoid estranged relatives coming for help, and charities hounding her for donations. I’ve dealt with this sort of stuff for years, and I didn’t want her to go through what some of my other clients did when they struck oil. He looked her in the eye. And now you’ll have to safeguard your wealth from the vultures.

She calmed her rapid breathing. I can’t believe this.

He held her hand in his and looked her in the eye. My dear, you’re one of the luckiest people on this planet!

She laughed. This is better than winning the lottery. I want to stand up and do the dance, but this is too good to be true.

Dance, he said. Here’s your proof. He gave her the deed for the ranch and a copy of the oil and gas lease. I have lived off mailbox checks for years. After my parents died, I inherited their Oklahoma ranch. I’m sure Zoie told you we lived next to each other growing up.

Yes, I knew that. Her eyes widened. Really, I’m worth two-hundred-and-seventy-million dollars?

That’s after taxes, my dear.

Oh, my God. I can’t believe this. Hand on her thumping chest, she took a deep breath. I could buy my own private jet, a yacht, a small island in the Caribbean, and still have money to play.

Mr. Reed held his hand up. One last thing, Stanley Howard. Before you can claim your inheritance, you must fulfill Zoie’s last wish.

Her eyes narrowed. I knew there was a catch.

He gave her a sealed envelope. It’s your aunt’s letter.

She looked at the familiar handwriting and paused before reading the two-page letter. Tears flowed from the pouring of love on the light blue stationery.

Mr. Reed gently rubbed her back. Zoie was very proud of you, he said. I drove her to Berkley when you graduated. We sat in the front row. For days, she bragged to her friends about how smart and beautiful you are.

Her voice cracked. Aunt Zoie has always been there for me. Who’ll watch over me now?

You can call me anytime, he said. I’m here for you whenever you need me. And I mean it when I say, do not hesitate to call me any time of day.

Thank you. You’ve always been so sweet to me. Her fingers traced over the fading black ink on the wooden tabletop. On that awful night that I lost my parents, Aunt Zoie gave me a pen and paper to draw pictures while she got my room ready. In my grief, I scribbled on this brand-new table instead of the paper. I expected a good spanking, but she gave me a hug. She whispered in my ear, ‘I love you, and I’ll always be here for you no matter how bad things get.’ My aunt kept these marks as a reminder of that promise. At the end of this letter, she made the same promise and said you have instructions for me. So, what’s that about?

He glanced at the jars of ashes. Your aunt wanted her ashes spread in the Zambezi River at Victoria Falls in Zambia, Africa.

Stanley crossed her arms. Zambia?

There’s more. He leaned forward on the table. You’re to live there three-months and work as a volunteer at the wildlife sanctuary. No one must know your identity or where you come from. You are to leave your phone and credit cards at home. That means cutting off all communication with your friends and work.

Are you kidding me?

I wish I was. He glanced at his notes. You’ll tell friends and colleagues you’re traveling to remote parts of the world to discover new anti-aging formulas to stay ahead of the competition in the beauty business.

She crossed her arms.

I know this day has been overwhelming for you, he said. You can’t get the inheritance until you fulfill this obligation,

What kind of volunteer job am I expected to do?

The manager at the wildlife sanctuary will tell you upon arrival.

Aunt Zoie knew how terrified I am of wild animals. Why would she knowingly put me through that? She stammered. And-I-can’t live without my phone—it’s my lifeline. She gave him a skeptical look. And if I refuse, then what?

I’ve been instructed to transfer her entire estate to her favorite charities. He looked at the calendar on his phone. Starting today, you have three-and-half months to fulfill this obligation.

And who is going to run the company in my absence?

Neil Lawson.

She leaned back in her chair. Hmm. Neil is more than qualified for the job. We both sat at this table as kids mixing my aunt’s beauty formulas.

You two are still close?

Oh, yes, she said. I rely on Neil at work more than he’ll ever realize. She looked over the detailed instructions for the trip. This is the same trip Aunt Zoie wanted me to take with her before she died. I guess she was going to make me go there any way she could.

She must’ve thought you needed the break. He gave her a copy of the deed to a property in Zambia. Zoie bought the lodge you’ll be staying in.

Stanley raised her eyebrows. She must love that place more than this farm. Why couldn’t she have made me spread her ashes somewhere close like on the farm, in Bodega Bay or along the coast? She groaned. I swear that lodge in Zambia cast a magic spell on her. I had to practically drag her out of there. Her two-week vacation turned into a four-month sabbatical. And how am I supposed to communicate with you, and pay for things without my credit cards?

He gave her a prepaid phone and Zambian currency gift cards. Use these for emergencies. Your volunteer job provides free room-and-board.

She scoffed at the twenty-five-hundred-dollar budget. That’s not enough money to live off for three weeks let alone three months.

"Things are cheap there, so