Chapter Twelve
Dane’s messages should have sent Kada to sleep with a smile, but she struggled to find her footing amid the strong winds and shifting sands. Facing the incomplete mural, she wiped sweat from her brow and examined the half-painted, native ocotillo plant. Once completed, the mural of stunning red flowers and tall, spiny stems would be majestic. In the wild, plants waved in the wind like a fan, but she couldn’t mimic that effect. Swiping a bug from her field of vision, she puffed out her cheeks, admired what she could do with static paint, and added orange highlights.
Humming, she realized an hour had passed and set down the paintbrush. Instead of slipping off to bed, she picked up a three-ring binder and cross-referenced it against the gridded wall. After rain fell in January and February, the desert would burst into bloom. Stunning, ephemeral displays would appear throughout the valley, and the desert’s lifecycle would begin again. She would be gone.
Movement caught her gaze. Shading her eyes from the floodlight, she found a Coachella Valley fringe-toed lizard inching across the life-size design. The plump lizard skirted the wet paint and crawled across the whitewashed stucco. The animal showed little interest in the motel’s rated amenities and storied history, but at least, it respected her art.
Or it had its eyes on a shiny beetle.
The chase might go for hours.
Dropping the hand, she moved her long, dark ponytail between her shoulder blades and flexed her muscles. In a few hours, the winter sun would rise from behind the mountains, and she would start a new day. For the first time in a long while, she wondered if she chased the right lure. Funding guaranteed her stability, but her work would put the sponsor on the map in the art world. Why should she let a looming deadline set her pace?
Dane tempted her as much as the people she met and the music she savored, but he was the only person who heated her blood. Why couldn’t he be a caffeine-soaked intellectual with a taste for expensive shoes? The thought of Dane playing boardroom games made her giggle. She would be happy to play with him in the bedroom.
Shaking her head and knowing she had to choose, she decided the rare fringe-toed lizard could have the wall. As the motel’s owner, operator, and resident muralist, she had a yawning sleep deficit and plenty of tasks to occupy her time. “Good luck, buddy.”
Pulling out a smooth sheet of plastic, she folded a paintbrush into a protective layer that would keep it wet until she could return to her passion.
“When do you usually get snow?”
Dropping the paintbrush, she turned and saw Inés standing near the floodlight. The vocalist’s lined face looked as soft and as smooth as a coffee-stained paper filter. She wore a flowing, embroidered dress, a large, wooden necklace, and sensible, black shoes. Kada felt a little underdressed in her presence, and she marveled at the things Inés pulled from her deep pockets.
Tonight, Inés withdrew her phone from a pocket and pivoted the device to reveal pictures posted by Palm Springs’ tourism board. “Last year, the snow came December fourteenth. Was that early? Maybe I should ask the people around Indio.”
Kada picked up her fallen paintbrush to rewrap it and considered the best course of action. Although she had regularly visited her grandfather, she had never lived in the valley. Inés might need her mother’s more extensive knowledge, but doubting the famed vocalist wanted ten caveats, she shrugged. “Snow rarely falls on the valley floor.”
Pivoting the phone so she could see the screen, Inés swiped across the glass.
The singer’s movements were as quick as a roadrunner sprinting across the sands. Kada waited.
Inés stopped swiping and pointed toward the starlit sky. “I’m not talking about the valley. I’m talking about the tram. When does the snow fall in the mountains?”
Kada laughed. The tram. Passengers on the decisive aerial tramway descended Mount San Jacinto and took in valley views and local frustration. The attraction ran an annual contest awarding free tickets to the contestant who guessed the first substantial snow accumulation in the mountains. If she paid more attention to her guests, and less to her art, she could keep up with their quirks. “Ah.” She reached for another brush. “This year’s been wet. Maybe early January.”
Inés shook her head. “No good. I’ll be home by then.”
Kada watched a star shoot across the sky. One day soon, snow would dust the mountain peaks, and desert flowers would bloom in the springtime. Judging by tonight’s clear skies, Mother Nature would thwart Inés’s desire for holiday snow.
Instead of raining on the vocalist’s parade, she wiped her hands on her smock, untied the protective garment’s straps, and neatly folded the fabric near her paint supplies. “I have a few passes you can have.”
Inés looked up from her phone. “You do?”
“I keep the passes behind the check-in counter.” Smiling, she gestured toward the main building. “Let’s see how many I have left.”
Pocketing her phone, Inés fell into step. “You know it’s late?”
She nodded.
Inés rubbed together her hands.
The woman was an accomplished artist, but she looked like a kid set to raid the candy jar.
“What else do you have squirreled away?” Inés asked.
Kada laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The vocalist had arrived at the motel to stay for a week, visit family, and sing at the venue on Fred Waring Drive. She greeted the sunrise with song and claimed the crisp, morning air strengthened her vocal cords, but her morning songs had also strengthened Kada’s work ethic.
Hearing the vocalist’s exercises at sunrise would yank her from her bed, but she enjoyed the treat. Sometimes, a second voice joined Inés, but bleary-eyed caffeine deprivation tempered Kada’s curiosity, and she had yet to identify the owner. Truly, she liked the motel guests, but she struggled before her first cup of coffee kicked in. Ready to trade her work clothes for cool sheets and a reassuring nuzzle from Lucky, she gestured toward the path meandering through the palms. “I’ll trade you two passes for a story.”
Inés laughed, walked along the path, and picked a spot reserved for a quiet bench. “How about a song?”
Kada nodded and hoped the vocalist specialized in volume control.
Clearing her throat, Inés sang “A?o Nuevo” by Vetusta Morla . She swung her hands with the same rhythmic confidence that lifted her songs, but she kept her voice under complete control.
Kada sat mesmerized. She knew the anthem. Whether the living and the dead toasted together, life moved on. Celebrating life was better than dwelling on the past’s pain and difficulties. Why did she let her disappointments define her future? Pops would have read her the riot act.
Inés pushed through the heartfelt refrain.
Guests making their way to their casitas stopped and smiled.
With a final hip swish, Inés finished the song.
She joined the clapping, poolside guests. “Majestic. You can have all the tram passes.”
Inés laughed and offered her arm. “Let’s get moving before you change your mind. I’ll only take what I need. That’s the secret to life, isn’t it?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Kada noted the lizard’s inching progress and wondered what she needed. The grant promised to fulfill her career aspirations, but the desert had staked a claim on her heart, and Dane had upended her sensibilities. Pouring her free time into the murals gave her an artistic outlet and honored her university training, but she wondered when she would bloom. Dane’s kisses silenced her doubts, but she couldn’t factor him into her decision.
By taking care of the motel, she gave Mom time to process her grief, but that time had passed. Did she want it to end? Most days, Kada loved running the place, and she wondered if she should set aside her ego and reject the grant for humble satisfaction. Maybe the Starlight Motel can be enough. Maybe my art can take second place.
The lizard stuck out its tongue.
She could never put down her paintbrush. Matching Inés’ steady walk, she thought of days she spent arranging her childhood dollhouse and other toys. Her family of dolls led tidy, manicured lives, but as soon as she had the pieces in place, she upset the arranged display, scribbled on the papered walls, and arranged dinosaurs on the dollhouse roof. The coming holiday was a time of reflection. Inés sang an old standard, but Kada felt it in her bones.
The post-holiday letdown felt a lot like growing up. Mom had poured a ton of energy into making holidays perfect, but Kada had outgrown make believe. Now that she wielded the credit cards and the inspiration boards, she understood the effort parents expended, but tidy, manicured lives had never been her thing. Beneath the stars, she had talked herself into running the motel, and it thrived, but she wanted more.
Inés paused beneath an overhead light. “Where are you?”
Missing a step, she slowed their progress toward the main building. “Sorry. I thought you might sing something classical, but I like your choice. It fits the season.”
Inés nodded.
Kada wet her lip. “Why did you become a vocalist?”
Patting her hand, Inés smiled. “The lifestyle suited me. I work in the mornings, sing throughout the day, and look for ways to help people. Moments of quiet solitude bring me happiness, but so does music. My life allows me to mix the two approaches in perfect harmony. I’m a lucky woman.” She opened her palm to the courtyard. “So are you. Maybe you were meant to be here.”
Kada pulled free her arm and reached for the main building’s door. Spirituality had never been her bag, but she respected Inés’s peaceful tone. “And if you hadn’t become a vocalist?”
“ Rancheria rock star.” Inés stroked an imaginary guitar. “What else?”
“Of course.” Laughing, she gestured for the vocalist to enter the main building and wondered who else couldn’t sleep.
“I’m starving,” Inés said.
“Then I’m not doing my job. Can I get you a sandwich? Fruit?”
“Midnight snacks are the worst.”
Inés gripped a chair like the furniture might keep her from exploring the complementary snack bar. Kada knew the feeling. She wanted to find her bed, preferably with Dane in it, or sink into the peacock chair and kick up her feet. Instead, she approached the motel’s check-in desk and fired up the sleek, gray laptop. After checking her notes, she pulled open a drawer, flipped through Pops’ old filing system, found traces of Nana’s handwriting, and pulled out two tram tickets. “Here we go!”
Grabbing the tickets, Inés grinned. “Thank you.”
She adjusted a brass flamingo dipping its head into a bowl filled with peppermints. “Who will you take?”
The vocalist’s weathered face softened into a loving expression. “My niece can’t get enough of heights. The minute her mother turns her back, the little hellion’s moving chairs, climbing bookcases, or scaling abandoned ladders.”
“Oh.” She laughed and thought of herself as an indulged only child. She had longed for siblings, but she appreciated how much time and energy her parents had poured into her upbringing. She wanted everything, didn’t she? Her cheeks warmed, and she walked from behind the desk. “I’m sure your niece will love the tram.”
“Her mother will love the break. Girls need education, but they need adventure, too.”
Exchanging a conspiratorial glance, Kada grinned. “With an aunt like you, she’ll find it.”
Slapping her knee, Inés waved the passes over her head and danced from the room.
Kada turned off the lights and followed.