Runner Up (16 page)

It’s Jill from the Chicago Arthouse office, I know you have a lot on your plate but thought of you when we got a new
client request. New Client, Jackson Zenko, mystery and crime author, is publishing a new series and wants fresh art. He lives
near you and I think he would be an easy job that could give you something to do with yourself to get back into your work.

I was instantly intrigued because I was a fan of Jackson Zenko’s work. I had at least four of his books. I
opened the address book and dialed the number right that minute.
After dialing her extension it took four rings and finally Jill’s warm voice answered.
“Hey Jill Frankos, It’s Hannah Parker.” My heart was starting to race a bit but I kept my breathing calm.
This is okay, she is trustworthy
. I told myself.
“Hannah, good to hear your voice. I will pretend nothing has happened and just be glad to hear from you,
is that cool?” Jill somehow knew the right words to say.
“Uh-huh..” I said and swallowed hard feeling the emotion rising.
“Jackson Zenko lives near where you are staying. You are back in Granger, Indiana for now right?” Jill was
all business; it was exactly what I needed.
“Yes, for at least the next month. Depending on what kinds of jobs I will be taking. But I am looking for
something easy, like you stated in the email. I am a fan of Jackson’s novels and thought this might be fun.” My voice
was a little thick with emotion but I got through it.
“I am glad to help you get back to where you need to be, behind the camera. You have mad skills woman.”
Jill was good at making me feel appreciated; her agency was great at handling the talent.
“I will send you the proposal package via email and the contact info for Jackson. You will be dealing with
his assistant to make the initial appointment.”
“Jill, thanks so much for the heads up. I need to get back to doing what I do best.”
“Keep your head up Hannah.” Jill stated.
I hung up after our brief conversation, feelings elated and edgy, with two parts of me fighting over whether
to be happy or untrusting of even leaving the house. I slowed my breathing down and tried to keep calm and let
the worries escape.
My email inbox binged a minute later with everything Jill promised. I carried my laptop to my dad’s office
and hardwired it into the printer. Too old for bluetooth, I laughed to myself. I was starting to miss my office in
New York. All the “bells and whistles” was my motto, ok not really a motto, but a slightly serious technology
addiction. I cringed at returning to New York. The mere thought of crowds made me want to break into a sweat.
My paper was printed and I grabbed an empty folder in my dad’s office supply closet. I found his addiction
obviously! I was pretty sure he would never run out of paperclips and hanging folders. Stacks of pens,
miscellaneous reams of paper of all type and brightness, card stock, post it notes and push pins, in a beautifully
organized closet. We all have our hobbies. It made me smile seeing this side of my dad. I saw a picture of the five
of us on his desk, my parents, Joe, Chrissy and I all embracing… The smiles were so genuine it nearly broke my
heart. I wished I could go back to that. Right now everything was so strained between all of us.
I knew the house was empty because my parents were volunteering at a church event. The homeless
shelter downtown was filling up the pantry. I donated funds but realized my presence would make things
complicated. The local news was going to be there, I would just complicate things and perhaps steal the attention
away from the shelter.
I raided the pantry and found my favorite chips and grabbed a cold can of soda from the fridge. I got myself
situated on the couch with my laptop, the printout and the phone. I dialed the number and heard a woman
answer after one ring.
“Hello, one sec…” scuffle…”Kyle, I have told you no once already. Leave the dog alone.” I heard a few
more noises that could not be determined and then the sound of someone walking back to the phone.
“So sorry, this is Ruby Pearson.”
“This is Hannah Parker, I am calling about the new cover designs for Jackson Zenko. I was contacted
through Chicago Arthouse.” My heart was racing but I was choosing to ignore it.
“That is great! My brother, Jackson, is really looking forward to getting that project started. Let me get
your email and I will send you an appointment time and his address info.”
I shared my email address and private iphone number.
“Is there any day this week that would be good for you? I know he is eager to get started.” The woman’s
voice was friendly.
“Well, actually this is my first job after an extended leave. I am available anytime, even tomorrow.” I threw
myself back into the ring, simple as that.
I heard Ruby exclaim that was wonderful and said she would send me info within a few minutes. She had a
pleasant voice that was almost “sing-songy,” but not annoying, just extremely personable. I was almost
disappointed that the conversation ended so quickly.
I munched on my snack and checked my Facebook page, my cousin Chrissy has already accepted the friend
request. I sent an olive branch message to her page, just a smiley face. I shrugged to myself,
who said the art of
communication was dead?
I chuckled out loud.
* * * * *
My email binged a half hour later. I had the author’s address mapped out quickly and through the old
school wired method printed it in my dad’s office.
I cleaned out my camera bag and after lunch did a few test shots in the back yard. My mother’s garden was
just cleaned out and lacking in blooms but the pictures were just tests anyway. I doubted I would even be taking
photographs tomorrow. I would need to discuss what he was looking for and take good notes. I took a deep
breath and sighed as I walked in. I needed this. Something to think about that didn’t involve anyone else, just me
and my camera – well, and the client. I did love helping someone capture a vision. I smiled to myself. It felt good to
be me for a little bit.
I was meeting Mr. Zenko at 10 a.m. I added his info to my iphone in case I got lost on the way there. The
internet map seemed pretty easy but I have been duped before.
I heard my parents pull in before dinnertime. We had a nice dinner, just the three of us. Chrissy wasn’t
around, she seemed to be avoiding us. We discussed it casually.
“She will come around. I am sure she feels awkward.” My dad’s wisdom prevailed.
I went to bed with something on my mind beside Anthony and the paparazzi. It was a good thing!
* * * * *
The April day was bright. The rain over the last few days had turned everything that fresh baby green. Not
the dark green of summer but the hint of it. Like the earth stretching after it’s long winter’s nap.
Dad’s 67’ Mustang was itching to get some air, he insisted I take it out. I remembered when I was a
teenager begging to drive it. I must be more trustworthy now. My camera equipment was worth as much as the
car, if not more, I mused.
He had been putzing with the car the last few days and had driven it out with mom last night. Mom said
that their evening was pleasant and she was always reminded of their dating days when they would go cruisin’.
The drive to the client’s home was forty minutes tops. Most of the time was spent getting out of the busy
morning traffic of the suburban area my parents lived in. The mall was nearby and traffic was always crazy.
I had been to Cassopolis before and found it small and quaint. The way the road came into town was
always a pleasant surprise coming around the bend and then the beautiful Stone Lake there to greet you. It was a
friendly view. Cassopolis was a small farm community. It was a friendly place and had a hometown feeling about it.
Downtown had a Tasty Twirl ice cream shop and a few brick and stone buildings. A few modern updates including
a fast food restaurant and bank with an ATM seemed better than some small towns that I had seen in my years of
travel.
I stopped quickly and got a snapshot of the morning mist on the lake. I climbed back in the car and made a
quick call to Mr. Zenko’s phone that Ruby had provided. I didn’t want any surprises. His or mine.
“Hello, it’s Zee.” A male voice was low and scratchy.
“Hello Mr. Zenko, It’s Hannah Parker, I had an appointment with you to discuss your book covers.” I
heard him sneeze and I covered my mouth so I didn’t laugh into the phone.
“Sorry, morning allergies, I am ready. You need help finding the place?” His voice still sounded scratchy but
pleasant and friendly.
I told him no but went over the street names and the directions I had. They were sound. I was on my way
one block into town, then turning left to go to the west end of the lake. Another turn and a dirt road later I was
flabbergasted at his beautiful home.
Golden logs and a dark green roof, two levels of storybook perfection, this was the perfect hideaway.
Being a bestselling author had been good to him. Wow! The lake was a pleasant distance away and his home was
situated in such a way, to watch the sunrise or the sunset from his front deck. Several Adirondack chairs where
strategically placed around the property for just that purpose. I climbed out of my parked car and gaped a bit. It
was probably unprofessional but this home was impressive.
“I see you like the place.” Mr. Zenko walked out of his front door and headed my direction. I should have
taken a glance at the back of the books I read. I was not prepared. He was all legs and shoulders. He was just big…
I was expecting a writer, skinny pale and nerdy. He looked like a fireman or lumberjack. I found myself staring and
decided to talk.
“I think perhaps you have one of the nicest setups I have ever seen.” Then I grabbed my chin and decided
to mess with him. “Well I did photograph Buckingham palace but that is not my flavor, really.” I saw he was
amused and it worked nicely on my nerves. I was worried about having a panic attack but I was calm.
“Well I can’t take full credit for the placement. I purchased the home from the guy who built it. I guess
they decided Florida was a nicer climate. It was my gain. I did add on a few things. The deck is my handiwork.” I did
a quick glance and decided he could probably build anything he wanted to. He seemed strong and fit.
“You said Hannah Parker on the phone didn’t you?” He said looking a bit embarrassed.
“Yes.” My voice got meek as I realized he recognized me.
Oh, here we go
.
“Well I am sorry, but I want to be honest that I do recognize you. I promise not to stalk you. I know about
anonymity and promise it doesn’t have to be a big deal with me.” He stuck out his hand to shake. I grabbed it
hesitantly.
“You can call me Jackson and drop the Zenko, it’s just my pen name. It’s really Zyszkowski. I will give you
a business card later. Otherwise, you will never guess the spelling.” He pronounced his name ZAH-KOW-SKEE. I
was trying to remember. He chuckled as he let go of my hand. I followed him after I grabbed my laptop and camera
bag from the car. I was looking forward to seeing the inside.
It was warm, bright and the windows created shadow play across the log beams. The grand room was
open and soft chocolate-brown leather furniture was arranged in little groups, inviting conversation with pockets
of love seats and rocking chairs and two different fireplaces. The largest fireplace on the west wall had gorgeous
dark stones. I wanted to park myself in a chair and stare for a while. This felt like a five-star lodge. I would have
paid money to stay here.
“You eat yet?” Jackson gave me a look that was funny.
“ I did, a little. But I could be persuaded to eat some more.” I said playfully.
“Well I didn’t, I’m a night owl so I just got up in time to be presentable. If I make eggs would you eat
some?” His blue eyes were a contradiction. I nodded to answer the question and continued to watch him.
“Eggs would be great!” I answered.
He was dressed casually, jeans and a soft cotton shirt. It was a dark grey. He had to shop at a large and tall
store to get them big enough. I was sure.
“So how tall are you?” I asked bravely. He asked about my TV show. I suppose we had gotten past the
basics.
“Six foot seven inches. Us Zyszkowski men, we grow tall, work hard and live forever.” He winked at me as
he whisked the eggs. I laughed.
“Zah-kow-skeee.” I said slowly to make sure I had it right.
“Yea, us Polacks have a rough reputation but we were never dumb. Just have an unlucky history, and a
lousy place on the geography maps. No pesky mountains to keep invaders out, so we invaded America.”
“You tell an interesting yarn Mr. Zenko.” I laughed again at his simplified history of Poland.
“I haven’t seen any 6’7 Polish men around here lately.” I said to see how he would respond. I liked his
sense of humor and easygoing way.
The eggs hit the hot frying pan with a hiss and he gave me a look. Trying to figure me out, was my guess.
“Well my grandfather sired four men who all towered over me. I am the shortest of the remaining
Zyskowskis.” He nodded as he stirred to emphasize his honesty. I was near to catching the giggles.
He spooned out scrambled eggs and cut up a banana for each of our plates. I sat on the stool and he sat in
front of me on the other side of the counter. I was aware of his towering presence as he grabbed a stool and sat.
That was much worse. He was now at a distracting eye level.
We ate our eggs and fruit quietly for a minute. I felt a strange tension and it wasn’t all unpleasant.
After I finished my plate he motioned me to follow him. He whistled and a short beagle appeared a few
seconds later.
“Bailey, meet Hannah.” The dog stretched and wagged his tail and sat at my feet waiting for attention. I
gave the dog some eye contact and he jumped up on two legs and rested his paws on my stomach. I encouraged
him by scratching behind his ears.
“Bailey!” Jackson said in a disapproving tone and the dog dropped back to standing on all fours looking
guilty for jumping up. I smiled and kept following Jackson and enjoyed the tinkling of Bailey’s collar.
“He is getting old but he still behaves terribly around guests. It’s my fault completely. My training was
sporadic and not very thorough.” Jackson shrugged and sighed.
“Okay now that my brain is fully awake we can talk about my ‘baby’.” We wandered and weaved through
the hallway. Nature photos graced the walls. I looked forward to seeing what he liked. We reached a nearby
empty room. The desk in the corner was the only thing to look at. Jackson approached the desk and opened a
drawer. He pulled out a thick manuscript and a folder and handed them to me.
“This is the finished manuscript for part 1 of the new series and part 2 & 3 are outlined and summarized in
the folder. I hope you understand that confidentiality is very important.” He paused, then continued. “But I know
you are a professional. I read your bio sent from the agency yesterday.”