Free Ellida by J. F. Kaufmann Page B

nights at Goblin’s Hollow than
sitting in their living rooms. Did you know that Jack used to play
bass guitar with the guys?”
    “He told me that.”
    “He still does it from time to time. Don’t be
surprised if he just shows up on stage one evening. He’s good, and
the crowd’s always been crazy about him. Can you imagine it?”
    Astrid smiled. Yes, she could easily imagine
that. Especially on Saturday nights.

 
     
Ten
     
    RED CLIFFS, as Astrid soon learned, was in a
fact a big, colorful, slightly dysfunctional family. Everybody knew
everybody else. There were no family secrets, and privacy certainly
had a different meaning here. But the family ties were firm and
friendship was highly valued. Red Cliffers shared a strong sense of
community and belonging, and they were proud of their town and its
history.
    Red Cliffs was a town of educated people.
Their degrees often didn’t match the jobs they currently did, but
they seemed fine with that. Athena Vangelis, for example, had a
degree in classical languages and European medieval literature, yet
happily ran a bakery. Marion Gillespie was an anthropologist by
vocation, but now she owned a bookstore and worked as a part-time
librarian. Neil Ramsey, a former soccer player, had opened Café
Insomnia, and then realized he preferred teaching Red Cliffs kids
soccer. His wife Valerie, a former teacher, had taken over the
café.
    Nobody seemed concerned about the mismatched
qualifications and careers. Red Cliffers had a different perception
of time and the luxury to live their lives without that defeating
notion that if you didn’t do something now, you wouldn’t have time
to do it at all.
    Lots of the town people worked in tourism,
which was the town’s major industry, or in local businesses. During
the winter season—from Halloween until the end of April—the
population doubled, and the town pulsated with life. Once the
tourists were gone, life in Red Cliffs happily shifted back into
its slow mode.
    Meat production was another major industry.
Numerous cattle farms and ranches surrounded the town. Thanks to
the specific microclimate characterized by milder temperatures,
lots of humidity, plenty of sunshine and a shorter winter, Red
Cliffs’ ranchers raised beef stock distinctive for its superior
meat quality.
    Two big farms on the very border of the Red
Cliffs territory belonged to Charles Langdon and his wife Lucy, and
that was where Astrid and Jack were heading one morning.
    Astrid was in the driver’s seat of Jack’s
heavy-duty truck. It was a crystal-clear, sunny morning. The air
blowing in through the open driver’s window was fresh and crisp,
saturated with the scent of pine and resin.
    “Remember when I told you about the
journalist who was kidnapped in South America?” Jack asked as the
powerful truck easily mastered the less than perfect conditions of
the back road that lead to Silver Horn, one of the Langdons’
farms.
    “Harold Bertram? You went there to bring him
home. Lucy is his daughter, right?”
    “She and Charlie got married a few months
ago. Before Harold was kidnapped, there were some concerns about
Lucy’s safety, so her family contacted James. James said, ‘Send her
here to Red Cliffs, she’ll be safe’. So she came but as Charlie’s
wife. I wasn’t aware they were dating or anything like that,
although their families are close to one another and Charlie and
Lucy have known each other for ages.”
    “So Charlie’s from here?”
    “He moved to Red Cliffs after his first wife
died, a few years ago, in Italy. That was a terrible marriage. I
hope Charlie’s finally happy. He’s a good man. He used to be a
successful lawyer, but he gave up the city life and his career and
came here.”
    “You said they were humans. Do they know
about us?” Astrid asked.
    Jack gently stroked the nape of Astrid’s
neck. “No. They’re different from our humans since they don’t know
about us. However, they live on our sacred territory, so