Orovada, Nevada looked like a good place to stop for a drink.
It was early afternoon. Out in front of the Rocky View Inn, Old Glory rippled hard on a tall flagpole. Hot wind first hit after lunchtime and hadn’t let up.
Before she went in, she sat in the car, texted her brother and thanked him for being there for her. That morning they’d been on the phone for more than an hour.
There was a Shell station down the road from the bar with a bright new sign, not yet faded by the sun. She studied the gleaming plastic scratched by dusty gusts.
Maybe they would have something to eat at the bar. If not, she’d grab something at the Shell station.
He told her it was fine by him that she was done with their mother and sister. For his part, he would maintain faintly cordial and distant relationships with them. He told her he didn’t feel bound to the family, just her.
He laughed when he recalled the time their mother tore into him for wearing a blazer instead of a suit and how, after that, he had never again worn a suit in her presence.
They each wondered how their mother had come by her wardrobe obsessions.
They agreed how thankful they were their father had set up trusts.
He asked if she would stay with the forensic accounting firm in Spokane. She said for now she would.
She asked if he would stay with the network security solutions firm in Burbank and he said yes. But he suggested he wasn’t long for the firm, feeling restless. The projects had taken on a sameness.
He would call her again in a few days. He had to go, he’d just pulled into the Lakeside Golf Club where his boss had invited him to play and he had to put the phone away.
She left the car and went into the Rocky View Inn in Orovada, Nevada.
She liked the place.
