ECHO MEADOWS

SMACK! Kimber Ross' hand hit the alarm with force. She rolled out of her queen size bed and fumbled down the narrow hallway trying not to knock any pictures off the walls. The cold oak hardwood flooring sent chills up her spine, as it did every morning. Passing through the living room, she wished she had carpet. Once in the kitchen she looked at the dishes in the sink, "not this morning," she thought, "no time." After starting the coffee and waiting for the smell to start filling the cabin, she headed for the shower. The coffee would be done brewing by the time she was ready to go.

Ten minutes later Kimber stood in the bathroom, if you could call it that. It was more like a closet in size. Looking in the mirror, she blow-dried her long smooth raven black hair. After pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail, she moved on to her makeup. Kimber applied her usual black eye shadow and eyeliner to her piercing waterfall-blue eyes. As she did, she remembered how blue her eyes had been as a little girl. Then Kimber turned to the shelf and grabbed the sun block, as was her morning ritual she applied a good three layers.

After finishing with her sun block, she left the bathroom and headed for the closet. The walk-in contained her dresser and shoes. Kimber pulled the cord that lit the tiny room. Moving every piece of clothing on the hangers until she finally located her powder pink SoCal shirt. Her favorite pair of jeans was easier to find, bottom drawer on the left. In addition, no outfit would be complete without black leather platform boots, hot pink laces included.

Ah, that first cup of coffee, so good on a Monday morning. However, Kimber was stomaching less and less as she got older. As she thought about it, she was not able to drink or eat as she used to. Maybe it was the stress of such little sleep. After glancing at the paper to see if anything worthwhile was going on in the world Kimber checked the clock, it was almost nine. Time for work, the keys, where are the keys?

After searching everywhere, twice, the keys appeared on the couch, as if out of nowhere. Next, to the coat rack, where Kimber snatched up her pink suede purse and matching hoodie. As her hand made contact with the doorknob, she remembered to shut the coffee pot off. Back to the kitchen, Kimber scrambled. While reaching to click the button her purse snagged on the kitchen chair and spilled out upon the floor. In the midst of scooping, everything up Kimber found her most prized possession, her only picture of her birth mother.

Kimber's bronze 1974 Chevy Nova sat in the driveway. She hated that car; it was so old, in good condition, but none the less old. The smell of the vinyl seats in summer made her sick. It was great when her foster parents, Jim and Lynn Meyers, gave it to her a year and a half ago for her sweet sixteen. She had the car just a few days before she used it to run away. She had hoped to buy a new car by now, so she could completely start over, no ties of being a foster child.

After warming up the car, Kimber started driving the twists and turns of Highway 18. Carefully, she drove out of Running Springs and into Big Bear listening to the radio, 96.7 KCAL Rocks, as she did every morning. She loved music, it kept her thoughts from wondering to the memories of foster care, memories that she did not dare remember. The only stop made was to the Starbucks drive-thru for a Venti Mint Mocha Chip Frappuccino. It was her favorite thing in the world and she made herself finish it, every time.

She pulled into her parking space at work, where there used to be a parking stone. Kimber looked at the building, what a disaster. The building was well over a hundred years old. It had never been remodeled, or kept up for that matter. The bricks were crumbling like a stale cookie. Then there was the roof, an even bigger problem, it did not just leak in the winter, it also let the sunlight in during the summer.

Kimber worked as the manager of the small antique store that inhabited the decrepit building. Actually, she was only employee of the store, owned by Mrs. Lillian Mutts. Now Mrs. Mutts was a small pudgy woman of sixty-four. Her graying hair accented her soft adorable wrinkles. Kimber was oddly comforted by the pungent lilac fragrance that Mrs. Mutts wore ever so lightly.

Mrs. Mutts was a very good employer. She was always very glad to see Kimber. The antique store was a very nice place to work and it paid extremely well. That was due, in large part, to the fact that Kimber was always busy. Even in the off-season when there were no tourists, Kimber was busy. The store had beautiful, rare, interesting, things in it, things most people had never seen. Where ever Mrs. Mutts got the items that made up the inventory was astonishing.

Kimber opened the store at nine in the morning just like every other day. She would await the arrival of Mrs. Mutts, who was always punctual, seven fifteen every Monday night. As odd as it seemed to pick up a week's worth of money on Monday night to put it the bank through an ATM deposit, Kimber never questioned the process that Mrs. Mutts followed.

The morning and threw to the mid-day and been a tad slower than usual but Kimber thought nothing of this, just wrote it off to the cloud cover that had moved in. Kimber finished her late lunch that came after inventory as a noisy couple entered the store. They were tourists, Kimber could tell by how overdressed they were for just some clouds.

The couple explained how they collected all types of vases; big, little, glass, ceramic, cheap, expensive, any kind you could think of. Kimber kindly showed them shelves of vases and other glass do-dads. After careful consideration, the couple chose an ugly seven-inch tall powder blue vase with orange daisies on it. Kimber wondered what kind of people would take almost four hours to decide to pay twenty-six hundred dollars for that vase.

Kimber sat down at the desk and counted out the drawer. She made the deposit slip out for five-thousand two-hundred ninety-one dollars and sixty-three cents, a small week. The store had those on occasion. Then Kimber printed out her paper on fantasy creatures for her English class at California State University. She would be so proud of herself if she could become a writer.

By the time, Kimber finished printing, put the deposit in the bag, and dug her keys out of her purse it was seven twenty. This did not seem right; Mrs. Mutts was never late. Kimber went to the desk to search the roll-ex for Mrs. Mutts' number. Nothing was found, it seemed to have disappeared. Just then, the door opened and a haughty little man came bustling in. The man's eyes darted around the room, as if inspecting the shop, not really looking to buy anything. Like a turkey, he was short and plump. His gray suit was to long for his curt 4' 9"; so long, it touched the floor. The shiny yellow tie looked very out of place as it sat snugly around his chubby neck. What was that awful thing atop his head? Some kind of hat maybe. "He should take it back and get a refund; it doesn't cover his bald spot." Kimber thought.

"I am looking for a Ms. Kimber Ross," he said sternly.

"And who exactly are you?" Kimber asked nicely.

"I am Mr. Timpo," he said pushing his oval framed glasses back up his nose, "the Mutts family lawyer."

"I have yet to see Mrs. Mutts today. Is there a problem?" Kimber replied.

Mr. Timpo stalled for a moment, "My dear, I am not sure how to tell you this, Mrs. Mutts passed away over the weekend."

Kimber was in shock. She had nothing to say, just an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Nobody had ever cared about her like Mrs. Mutts had; she had given Kimber a job when she was not looking for one; which in turn got her the cabin that she lived in and paid for all her college courses. "Well that explains why she did not come for the deposit today," Kimber said as she began to cry. Mr. Timpo helped Kimber over to a stool to sit down.

After a minute Kimber stopped her uncontrollable crying, “Now down to business," Mr. Timpo said.

"Business?"

"I have come here to inform you that Mrs. Mutts as left her entire estate to you, excluding the store. It is to be sold as soon as possible to be exact."

"Huh? What? Sold? Have you lost your senses? How will I live?" Kimber asked in complete confusion.

Mr. Timpo took a great deep breath and looked at the shaken girl in front of him and replied, "My dear the estate is worth several million dollars and includes a mansion that sits on over five thousand acres in Northern Maine. I do believe the town to be called Winston. You will have no need for this store or job anymore."

"Are you sure that this what she would have wanted? What about her family, won't they be upset?"

"Lillian had no family. She was very clear about her wishes that you get everything. She had really come to care for you, thought you'd like it in Maine."

Kimber sat dumbfounded, her mind trying to process the last forty minutes. "When will you be selling the store?" she inquired.

"It went up for auction on the Intemet yesterday morning. It is up to you what we shall do with the contents of the store. We can sell them too if you would like."

After a moment of thought and searching around the room with her eyes Kimber shouted, "NO! I want it all. Though I have no idea what to do with it, I feel I must keep it.”

Mr. Timpo laughed. "I will have this stuff and the contests of your cabin moved to mansion in Maine on Thursday."

"My cabin? You leave my cabin alone!" Kimber shouted. After a moment Kimber quietly whispered, “I am sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just don't think I need to pack up my whole life."

Mr. Timpo sighed, "l know this a lot to deal with but don't you think it would be nice to have some of your own things around you in your new home?"

"I suppose you're right. So I have just a few days to get everything in order. Shit! School! What am I going to do?"

The lawyer smiled, "You will figure it out. If you have any questions or concerns just call me." He handed her a manila envelope full of documents, "I am your lawyer now, if you should ever need my services," With that he collected his briefcase and left.

Slowly Kimber proceeded to the door and locked it, turning the sign to read closed. Many thoughts ran through her mind at such apace that she could not seem to hold on to one long enough to complete it. After sitting for a while and processing all that had transpired she figured what better to do with the rest of the work day than start packing up the shop.

Packing up the shop was not the least bit trying or complicated. it was just a matter of getting all of the boxes out of the store room and repacking everything. By four-thirty she had almost everything packed. She looked around, surprised at how much she had gotten done. She only had two shelves left. Kimber must had gotten into a really good groove, this made her happy. Smiling to herself she picked her purse up from behind the counter and went to leave. School started at six.

After stopping at Starbucks for usual Venti Mint Mocha Chip. Kimber started the long drive to school. South on Highway 18, all the way down the mountain to the split. A right at the split puts her westbound on Sierra Way, Kimber was almost to the part of town she hated most, West 40th St. she made the right turn onto 40th St. and took it past the drug dealers and thugs to Kendall Dr. Almost there she thought, as the AC/DC song on the radio ended. Finally, the last right onto University Pkwy.

Five minutes later Kimber had parked her car and gone to see if her professor had arrived yet. Thankfully, he was there. After explaining the events of the day, the professor kindly dug a form out of the filing cabinet. It was a resignation form, ten minutes later she placed the completed form on his desk, thanked him for his time and help. In turn he wished her the best of luck on her new start.

Wow, what a waste of time and gas. All of that driving for a form and ten a minutes of time. On her way back up the mountains Kimber wondered what to do with her cabin. Should she rent it out, leave it vacant, or just sell it? "Yeah that's it! Sell it! If I do come back, I will buy a place with a better view. Maybe even at the beach!" she thought aloud.

It was early when she got back up the mountain. Straight to the shop she went to finish the last two shelves. It did not take her long to finish, as she looked around at the emptiness, Kimber had an idea, the desk. It needed to be gone through and sorted out also. With a bottle of water and an empty Nike box she plopped down to begin the big Redwood desk. The roll top was fairly simple; paper clips, stapler, whiteout, and such. Even the first two drawers were easy, nothing but printer paper and ink.

The third drawer was another matter entirely. She had never seen the inside of the third drawer. It was where Mrs. Mutts kept papers of importance. Kimber had never had a reason to go through this drawer. The first three stacks she removed where bills and invoice slips, nothing exciting, so she shredded it all. The last small stack however, was of great interest to her. There plain as day in her hand was the sales slip for the store! Dated for five years ago August. Wait, this made no sense, shortly after starting her employment she had asked Mrs. Mutts how long she had owned the shop, and she was told, "Oh thirty years or so." Kimber was now math major but she knew that the date on the bill of sale made Mrs. Mutts a liar. Now she began to wonder what else could be a lie. What was really awaiting her in Maine?