Sedona Law 5 by Dave Daren (romantic novels in english .TXT) 📕

Vicki walked in at that point, dressed in fresh clothes, but not smiling.

“We have the party at Tranquility this morning,” she mumbled.

“The placenta thing,” I groaned and dropped my head back. “We can cancel.”

“No,” she argued. “Not after they just became partners with your parents.”

“But we’ve got so much … ” My voice trailed off when I realized she was right. Then I sighed. “Alright. We’ll only stay for an hour. Hey.”

“What?” Vicki asked with a scowl.

“Smile,” I said gently.

Her expression softened, and she looked a little sheepish.

“I’m just so tired,” she groaned as she plopped into a chair.

“I know,” I said, “me too. Let’s just make it through the day. And then we can get massages or something.”

“A massage?” she echoed with a bit of a smile.

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “We’ll get one of those couple’s massages, with hot stones and aromatherapy and chanting the bad energy away.”

She laughed. “I think we’ve had enough chanting for a while.”

AJ groaned from where she was hunched over her laptop. “I second that.”

“You’ve been a trooper,” I told the young woman with a grin. “We’ll get you a certificate, too.”

AJ’s face brightened. “Thanks, boss!”

“On the one condition you never call me that again,” I joked with a shudder.

“Alright,” Vicki sighed as she hauled herself back to her feet. “Let’s go plant some trees and shit.”

“You’re starting to sound like me,” I teased.

“I’m starting to feel like you,” she shot back with a smirk. “Cynical and jaded.”

I laughed as we headed out of the parking lot to my car. The drive to Tranquility commune was about half an hour, and it took us outside of town. It was a mostly quiet drive, and in our current sleep deprived state, this was preferable.

Tranquility was a somewhat self-sufficient Marxist type commune, run by our clients Perry and Kristen McGrath. We met them several months ago when they contacted us out of the blue, after Earth Market wanted to sell their kombucha in stores.

It was a massive property, with a full vegetable garden, a chicken farm, and at one time, there were goats and cows. To my knowledge, the goats were still around, but cows got nixed in favor of the burgeoning success of the kombucha plant.

The latest addition to Tranquility was Neptune--both a zebra and a baby by the same name. It was a long story, heartwarming, but long.

We arrived at the property and parked in the grassy area known to be a drive. There were only a couple of vehicles there. Perry once told me they do a lot of vehicle sharing, for one to keep down their living expenses, but also given that the commune was largely self-sufficient, there was little need to leave the property anyway.

The field stretched endlessly, and since I knew the property a bit, I could pick out the different areas for chickens, and the garden, and the little cluster of wooden buildings that served as the main hub of the community.

“Where’s the zebra?” Vicki wondered as we made our way through the field.

“I don’t know,” I said and glanced around. “I want to make sure we check in on him, but I’m sure he’s alright. I also want to see the kombucha facility update.”

We reached the buildings, about a hundred yards in. They were a handful of wooden structures surrounded by a courtyard. They had dorms, a common hangout room and a kitchen where the residents took turns cooking in teams. When we first met the Tranquility community, they had about thirty people. The crowd today looked to be about half that. I guessed the fallout after the kombucha expansion was to be blamed for that.

“That’s sad about Rob leaving,” Vicki remarked as we approached the thinned crowd.

“I know,” I agreed with a nod, “I liked him. He was a little quirky, but he seemed to be a good guy.”

Perry met up with us and smiled and embraced us in hugs. I wasn’t much for physical contact, but these guys were all a bunch of touchy-feely people. So, I just smiled and gave him a quick side squeeze.

“Good to see you,” Perry said. “I’m glad you could come out.” Then he whistled. “We heard about the Jerry Steele case. That is messed up right there.”

“Messed up is a good way to put it,” Vicki told him, “and we could use the break.”

“Bet so,” he nodded and then gestured behind him. “Have some kombucha. We have a whole table of it over there. Kristen’s not feeling well, so the party’s been delayed a bit. She’s taking a rest. But I want to show you our new experiment.”

“I’d love to see that,” I agreed with a smile.

We stopped at the kombucha table, and Perry stood in front of it and grinned as if it was a big surprise. He held his hand out for us to stop, and then he reached behind him and pulled out a glass jar.

“Okay,” he smiled, “now, this is our new blend. I want you to taste it. But first I want you to close your eyes and really take in the flavor.”

Vicki and I looked at each other.

“Alright,” she agreed hesitantly.

I just smiled and nodded. God, I have always hated kombucha. My mom used to home brew it when I was a kid. She swore by it, something about probiotics and crap. I never really knew what that meant, but I always got this image of probiotics being these petri dish cultures growing inside my gut and giving off yeast like bacterial fungi things that fed on my bad enzymes. This was all supposed to be a good thing, I was told. I was never a fan of turning my intestines into a junior high school