The Maya 1.20
Previously On The Maya...
Eugenio Stavros and Amara Barclay settle in at a luxury home they're now renting on the Isle of Use. They are ushered to the deck to await a meal. They take in the view and revel in the warmth of the sun as they speak about various and sundry things, including Stavros' meeting about his company's steel contract. Stavros expresses concern that he will be leaving Amara alone. She laughs and says she thinks she can find something to do. She is about to kiss him when they are interpreted by the cook's assistant. They enjoy their food in silence.
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
Kirkegaard plucked the dinner napkin from his lap, dropped it on the table and with a satisfied sigh, pushed away from the table. He sat patting his stomach.
"Are you sure you've had enough?" Marie asked. She appeared doubtful.
"Yes, yes, I have!" Kirkegaard said, waving. "If I don't stop know, I'm going to blow up."
That solicited giggles from the Layton's three children, Jack, who was nine, Darcy, six, and Winthrop, three.
"Well, don't do that," Marie said, holding out her hands toward Kirkegaard as she gave her children an exaggerated concerned look. "It does present a problem, though."
"Oh, don't worry," Kirkegaard said. He knew where the conversation was headed. "I've got room for dessert."
"Okay, kids," Marie said, standing up, "Let's clear the table."
"I'll help," Layton offered. He started to collect his plate and dinnerware.
"It's okay. The kids and I can do it. You keep George entertained."
"I don't mind helping, too," Kirkegaard said, stretching.
"Uh-huh," Marie said, giving him a half smile. Then she disappeared into the kitchen.
"I'm going to gain thirty pounds," Kirkegard said. "I know she's a good cook, but that food was amazing."
"I heard that," Marie said from out of sight.
"It was a compliment!" Kirkegaard shouted back.
"She is a great cook," Layton said, adjusting his chair so he could lean back, "but you're right. The ingredients are better, too."
"She said some of it comes from your garden."
"A lot does. There's something about the climate and the soil here. We only managed one season, maybe two with a hot house, up there," Layton said, meaning Oregon. "Here, we can have up to four, if we want to go to the work of planting, growing and harvesting. Many people do."
"That explains vegetables and some fruits," Kirkegaard said, "You growing your own chickens, too?"
"No. Not enough land here. Again, there are plenty of people who do. But the meat arrives fresh to market daily. Marie makes mini-trips to the store three or four times a week instead of one big shopping trip."
"Sounds expensive."
"Not really. A little more time consuming perhaps, but she's got it down to a science."
"I'm not sure exactly how to say this." Kirkegaard leaned in, then stopped as Jack and Darcy came to retrieve their dishes. "Has Marie done something different with herself? New hairdo, lost weight? There's some kind of change."
"There is," Layton said, "She's pregnant."
"Really?" Kirkegaard hesitated. When Layton nodded, he stuck out a hand. "Congratulations."
"Thank you." Layton shook Kirkegaard's hand heartily.
"How far is she along?"
"A few weeks."
"Cool. Do the kids know?"
"Not yet. We're waiting a bit so we know if it's a baby brother or sister."
"Any preference?"
"Me? No. At this stage, you just hope for healthy and happy."
Kirkegaard seemed to ponder that a bit, but when he spoke again, it wasn't about children or Marie's pregnancy.
"That's not it."
"What?"
"The change. There's something else."
"She's been happier, more content since we've moved here. Less stressed." He paused for a moment, looked in the direction of the kitchen, then added in a whisper, "More intimate."
"I can hear you," Marie said.
Layton signaled to Kirkegaard to get up. Groaning from being full, they moved down the hall to Layton's small den. When Kirkegaard was in, he motioned to the couch and shut the door.
"I can see how all of that might help," Kirkegaard said, as Layton sat down beside him. "But she's not the only one like that here. At least, not from what I've seen so far. Everyone's polite and happy, sure, but there's more to it. It's got something to do with being younger. And she's, how do I say this..." Kirkegaard stopped. He and Layton were good friends, but rarely was his wife the center of conversation.
Layton seemed to know where he was going. "More attractive."
Kirkegaard nodded slowly. There was even more to it than that. Kirkegaard had figured it out in strategic stares over the course of the afternoon and at dinner. Her clothing was far from revealing, but Marie had undergone some noticeable physical changes in her entire appearance.
"If it's surgery, it's pretty good," Kirkegaard finally blurted.
Layton stared at him for a few moments. Kirkegaard couldn't tell if he was thinking on what he'd said, or was getting ready to punch him. Then Layton burst out in uncontrolled laughter.
"You should see your face," he said in between gasps for air.
Kirkegaard could feel his face turning red.
"I don't know how to say it. I've never seen anything like it before and I'm trying to be polite, but I can't do both."
"It's okay," Layton said, holding up his hand. "I know what you're talking about, and I'm not offended by it in the least. She is different, but it's not surgery."
"Then, what is it?"
"We talked earlier about the food here, and that the climate and soil make it better."
"Right."
"The taste isn't all that is affected. Nutritional value goes up, too, without a significant increase in calories. In fact, in some cases, calorie counts go down."
"Okay."
"Well, the climate and soil makes the food better, and the food apparently makes us better."
Kirkegaard considered Layton and his answer. "That's it?"
"Put simply, yes."
"But there's more?"
"Well, probably. I'm not a soil expert and I'm not a nutritionist. We were just told when we got here to expect some physiological changes."
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.