Getting New Mexico

Rhenna St. Clair

Description

Aaron Schuyler is a ne'er-do-well, a cheat, an exploiter, a drunk, and a lifelong New Yorker. New Mexico is about to change everything about Schuyler, in this fresh and witty comedy about second chances and redemption.

At 52, Aaron Schuyler has destroyed his life and doesn't care. Professionally ruined, flat broke, and estranged from his ex-wife and children, Schuyler's only concerns are sponging free drinks by crashing funerals and staying on the good side of his primary money supply, his formidable British mother, Clementine. But Clementine has a plan. Praying for divine aid from her personal god, Winston Churchill, Clementine creates a Winston-inspired scheme to reform her worthless son. Clementine presents Schuyler with an ultimatum―she'll bail him out one last time, if he moves from New York to Santa Fe, New Mexico, and takes a job at the local Sam's Club. In New Mexico, Schuyler meets people unlike any he's ever known―the enigmatic Indian artist Lone Goose, the blue collar Sam's Club workers who accept him as one of their own, and the beautiful and no-nonsense Anita Chatterjee, with whom Schuyler is immediately smitten. For the first time in his life, Schuyler wants to be a better person―and as he rereads his diary of his past life, he realizes the extent of his failures and his misdeeds. Can Schuyler adapt to a life of responsibility? To a mature relationship? To New Mexico? To shaking scorpions out of his boots? Winston help him!

Informations

• Publié par: Linden Publishing
• Date de parution: 05 novembre 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781610353649
• Langue: English

Extrait

Getting New Mexico
Rhenna St. Clair

Pace Press
Fresno, California
Getting New Mexico
Copyright 2019 by Rhenna St. Clair. All rights reserved.
Published by Pace Press
An imprint of Linden Publishing
2006 South Mary Street, Fresno, California 93721
[phone] / [phone]
QuillDriverBooks.com
Pace Press and Colophon are trademarks of Linden Publishing, Inc.
ISBN 978-1-61035-344-1
135798642
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper.
This is a work of fiction. The names, places, characters, and incidents in this book are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental. Whenever real celebrities, places, or businesses have been mentioned or appear in this novel, they have been used fictitiously.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: St. Clair, Rhenna, author.
Title: Getting New Mexico / Rhenna St. Clair.
Description: Fresno, California : Pace Press, [2019]
Identifiers: LCCN 2019039228 (print) | LCCN 2019039229 (ebook) | ISBN 9781610353441 (trade paperback ; acid-free paper) | ISBN 9781610353632 (kindle edition) | ISBN 9781610353632 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Redemption--Fiction | New Mexico--Fiction
Classification: LCC PS3619.T2329 G38 2019 (print) | LCC PS3619. T2329 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019039228
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019039229
Contents
Chapter 1: Clementine Atwater
Chapter 2: Akron, Ohio
Chapter 3: Funerals
Chapter 4: Uncle Harry s Memorial
Chapter 5: Aftermath
Chapter 6: Tom Jannssen
Chapter 7: Sam s Club
Chapter 8: Reflections
Chapter 9: Hugh Leigh
Chapter 10: Walmart
Chapter 11: The Dog
Chapter 12: Flashback
Chapter 13: On the Dock
Chapter 14: Days at Sam s Club
Chapter 15: In Jail
Chapter 16: Flashback
Chapter 17: Hugh and Harry
Chapter 18: Performance Review
Chapter 19: Ms. Chatterjee s Dilemma
Chapter 20: The Dinner
Chapter 21: Days of Note
Chapter 22: Perspectives
Chapter 23: Plain Speaking
Chapter 24: Reflections
Chapter 25: The Big Day
Chapter 26: Just Married
Chapter 27: The Last Diary Entry
This book is dedicated to all the employees of Sam s Club New Mexico
CHAPTER 1
Clementine Atwater
Should I bail him out one last time, Winston? Just once more?
Clementine Atwater knew any answer to her simple question would be complex. That was a given. Anything concerning her son, Aaron Schuyler, was complicated because his personal history resembled a cesspool. Schuyler had been unfaithful to his wife, neglected his children, cheated his business clients, slept with his partner s wife, and was now living like a bum.
Only an unorthodox solution could resolve such a knotty problem-the question of whether Aaron deserved another bailout-but Clementine was confident such a solution existed. Her deity was no novice at cleaning up messes, and his advice was ever flawless. Clasping her hands in expectation, she shifted on her knees and waited. Winston had never yet failed her, and he did not now.
Make the effort, came the forceful response of a male voice with an upper-class British accent. As do you, I recognize his latent goodness. But that weighty core of character and virtue are useless if he does not recognize what virtue lies within himself.
We agree, then? Clementine whispered. We ll give him one more chance. Just one. I have a plan in mind.
Then trust yourself. Press on, for you know best what to do.
Crossing herself, pushing a silvered strand off her forehead, Clementine rose from where she knelt beside her bed. Thank you, Winston. Thank you.
When it came to beseeching favors from divinity, Clementine Atwater had no use for a disembodied spirit supported by clouds. Her god was a real person, the hero of her childhood during the dark days of World War II. Her hero was the most important person of the twentieth century. This was the man who saved England from destruction, Europe from tyranny, and brought peace to a war-torn and devastated world.
Oh, how she adored him.
Born in Leeds, England, in 1940, Clementine Neville was christened in honor of Winston Churchill s beloved wife. Her parents, Mary and Francis Neville, ardent admirers of the Churchills, doted on their tiny daughter. They were delighted when the first word she spoke wasn t mama or dada but Chuh-Chuh. No childhood idiosyncrasy could have pleased them more than her infant version of the name ever on her father s lips.
Even as a toddler in nappies, little Clementine observed how her mother s anxious brow relaxed and softened when the family listened to the prime minister s bracing radio broadcasts. Mary Neville would be painting another of the many watercolors displayed within their home. Francis would be furiously copying as many of the PM s words as he could into his broadcast diary. Yet both were listening keenly for, in those dark days, Churchill was the one to whom the island nation s citizens looked to for guidance, leadership, hope, and salvation. Churchill, endangering his personal safety to roam London s streets during the horrors of the Blitz, was everything, to every Briton.
Or, at least, most of them.
Little Clementine Neville was a deep thinker, even at an early age. When only five years old she pointed out to her parents that god was dog spelled backward. Mary and Francis were somewhat taken aback, but pleased by their daughter s precocity. They indulged her with a smile. And, when she thereafter poured out her prayers by rote each night to the great man they said nothing, confident she would outgrow her youthful spiritual perspective and embrace the tenets of the Anglican Church.
Not so.
Throughout her early childhood, her teenage years, and into adulthood, Clementine remained the prime minister s faithful petitioner. When asked what sort of gift she would like for birthdays, Christmas, and Boxing Day, her parents guessed her answer before she gave it. Her inevitable choice was whatever new biography of Churchill they could find, or books about British military action during the Second World War. In this she was like her younger brother, Harry, also an aficionado of British history.
January 24, 1965, was the saddest day of Clementine s young life. Winston Churchill died, and his wife for whom she was named was by his side. Now Mrs. Daniel Schuyler, married to an American citizen and living in New York City, Clementine, heavy with child, flew to Heathrow from LaGuardia. She was among the thousands who traveled to London and lined the streets leading to St. Paul s Cathedral on January 30th, the day of Churchill s funeral.
Her sorrow as the solemn cortege passed by on that frigid London day was almost beyond containment. She pulled her plaid woolen coat as tightly closed as possible, patted her swollen belly, and assured its occupant they were still in good hands. Churchill s spirit would prevail. It would guide her through the struggles of marriage and motherhood, and mold her into the valiant and stalwart woman she was meant to be. Of that, she was convinced.
Winston Churchill was the rock upon which Clementine built her church.
Her son, Aaron Schuyler, then nestled safely within her womb, was the cross upon which she hung herself, time after time, for more than fifty years. He was her living altar of self-sacrifice.
Clementine Atwater was a vigorous and sturdy seventy-seven years old, determined to rectify her middle-aged son s ways and fix his footsteps on a nobler path, when she received Winston s answer to her latest prayer.
CHAPTER 2
Akron, Ohio
Aaron Schuyler was only too happy to admit he owed everything to his mother and, in so saying, he didn t mean a smooth glide down the birth canal into the big wide world. His mother, Clementine Atwater, hadn t just given him life. She deserved far more credit than that. In an endless round-robin of give-and-take, when he needed bailing out from debt, she was the one who granted him salvation and restored his credibility. She gave, and he took.
Schuyler was now fifty-two years old. His temples were graying and there were flecks of white visible in his head of thick brown hair. There were creases around his eyes and deep lines traversed the gap between his nose and mouth. Daily, he checked out the slight sag in the skin covering his jaw. Not too bad. No double chin. So far .
Considering his dissolute lifestyle, he was far better-looking than he had any right to be.
Mom, I promise. I ll never ask again. Shameless, he had knelt before his mother during their last encounter in her New York City high-rise flat, just after her most recent marriage. All the while, conscious of the stress to his knees, he wondered why Clementine had sold her lush Axminster carpet. The highly polished hardwood floors now in vogue had their drawbacks.
This is the last time, Mom. Please help me out. I m so sorry.
Clementine had promised to consider his request. I ll get back to you, Aaron. Truly, I will, but I need a few days to consider this. Right now, I m focused on helping poor Harry. He s failing fast, you know.
Schuyler did know. The agony of his Uncle Harry s struggle with cancer had them both in a holding pattern, wondering when Harry might breathe his last. Clementine s anguish at her brother s losing battle was all-consuming. Schuyler knew further wheedling on his part would be counterproductive, and only serve to irritate his mother. All he could do was wait.
When Harry s health took a slight turn for the b