Last Snippet for the year!

It's the last day of the year, and I thought I would drop a snippet in here of a novel that sold this year... but didn't. The editor liked the book and would have taken it, but then she decided to close down the business. This happens, especially in the small press/Ebook world. So Ruins is going to be back on the market in 2006.

I hope all of you have a great year!

Cheveyo Rey found the phone under a pile of paper on the table and grabbed it on the third ring, grateful that he didn't have to maneuver the wheelchair clear across the room to the wall unit. These days he was grateful for a number of little things.

He punched the button and put it to his ear. "Hello."

"'Ello Dr. Rey, sir," a startlingly happy British accented man said from the other end. "And 'ow are you today, sir?"

"I'm doing fine, Smithers. How can you be so ungodly happy at whatever hour of the day it is there?"

"Five in the morning, sir. And I'm being paid well to be happy. Are you ready for the call?"

"Oh yes, let's get it over with," Rey said. He pushed away the scattered papers, and pulled out the last fax from the esteemed London law firm of Wall, Smithers and Doyle, once again reading the counter offer Catha Incorporated had made.

Damn impressive counter offer, really... but he had decided, since the accident, that he didn't want to sell. Maybe he had become reactionary, but every time he thought about the feel of hands on his back, shoving him out in front of the lorry on a busy London street...

"Call is going through, sir," Smithers said. "Computer program is running and synced."

"Good." His London law firm went to a lot of work to make certain people still thought he still resided in London. However, once he'd been well enough to travel, Chev had decided to go home to New Mexico -- if not to the reservation where he grew up, at least close to it. He just liked this area. He couldn't say he felt safer here, but he did feel calmer.

"And how is life in the Wild West these days?" Smithers asked, still cheerful.

"Snowy here at Taos. Pretty, though."

"Snowing in March? There's no call for that sort of behavior. Your man Jeeves is making sure you take care of yourself, is he?"

"Morton, yes." He grinned despite himself. "And Patrice has finally let me sneak in the back of the museum and play with pieces of broken pottery again."

"Ah, good on her, then," Smithers said. "And your wife, Sandra?"

"Apparently having a wonderful time on the French Riviera."

"I thought she would be in New Mexico by now."

"I'll let you in on a secret -- she hates it here. The month we spent in New Mexico after we married... well, let's just say it wasn't the most pleasant time in our marriage. I should probably be in France with her now --"

"You needed to be where you felt comfortable," Smithers said, his voice loosing much of the infectious joy he had held a moment before. But it came back in the next moment. "And what is there not to love about New Mexico? All that fresh air, wide open spaces, horses and cowboys."

"And Indians," Chev added, brushing at his own dark braid.

Smithers laughed in agreement and then sobered with a little cough. "The CEO of Catha Inc is on the line, sir."

Things clicked. He heard the computer simulation that would, he hoped, convince the Catha people he was still in London.

"Mr. Rey?" a thin, older voice asked. Petulant -- not a good way to start. Chev had heard that tone in the man before, and knew this would not go well.

"Dr. Rey," Chev corrected him, and then leapt right into the heart of the matter. "I'm afraid, Mr. Kinmore, that I'm going to turn down your offer."

"It is a very reasonable offer!" the man said, his voice rising in anger.

"It is more than a reasonable offer. But I am reevaluating what I want out of life, Mr. Kinmore."

"This isn't about personal enjoyment --"

"This is very much about personal enjoyment. I love importing and exporting art almost as much as I love archeology. If I sold that company to you now, what would I be doing tomorrow?" His hand brushed against the wheelchair. He could not go out to the dig. If he could, he might have sold, and been done with it. But he needed something still --

"I don't see that's the point at all. I can make you a lot of money --"

"I have a lot of money," Chev said.

"Well, fine then." And he hung up.

"You know, Smithers, some people just don't take no for an answer very well."

Smithers gave a little half laugh, muttered something, and then laughed again. "Well, it can't have been much of a surprise. I'm already getting a fax from their corporate headquarters threatening to sue for ... bloody hell, I'm not sure what they intend to sue for. Don't worry. We'll settle it."

"Good." Aches eased in his shoulders. He looked around the room and stopped at the wall of Hopi-Tewa pottery he had bought both from galleries and from the potters themselves. Some brown with black images and others white with black and brown images lined carefully lit glass shelves. On the third shelf stood a piece out of place with the others -- ancient, black and white Anasazi ware. He had found that one himself, out on the land he inherited from his grandfather.

"Sir?"

"Sorry," Chev said, pulling himself back. "Glad to have that over with. Now I can get back to work."

"But you will be careful," Smithers said.

"Oh yes. Very careful."

"Good. I think you did the right thing, sir. Money isn't everything, as they say. I'll call you in a few days with the final report."

"And the bill for this ungodly hour."

"Yes sir, that too." He laughed. "One last item. I have a report here from the detectives who say they've not had any progress in the attack against you."

"Tell them to keep investigating until the end of April. If nothing has turned up by then, I'll consider it closed."

"I'll pass that along, sir. I believe that takes care of all our business this morning. I'll talk to you soon."

The phone clicked as Smithers hung up. Chev was almost sorry. He wouldn't have minded a little more company tonight. He thought about calling his wife, or maybe Patrice -- but he put the phone aside instead, and shifted papers on the table. He pulled out the employment form Patrice had brought him yesterday. The applicant would be into the museum for an interview tomorrow, but something about the paperwork left Chev uneasy. He didn't think they'd be hiring this one.

And that reminded him of yet another little battle to be fought. A stack of papers on the right side of the table came from Red Sun Associates, a company that wanted his land down near Santa Fe for development. He'd already told them it wasn't going to happen... so the bastards had gone to the state to try and get title to the 'undeveloped and under utilized' area.

It wasn't going to happen. He sat down with the papers and began jotting down notes on his Palm to send off to his Santa Fe lawyers. Lately, he'd spent far too much time with lawyers, and not enough with the land.

He shifted in the chair and tried not to think about what kept him hidden here in his home.