1.2
Field visits had always been the best part of Sam's job.
As he soared down the township road with folk music haunting in the speakers, gravel dust soft in the rearview mirror, solitude was a comforting lightness in his chest. Endless prairie rippled beyond the windshield, and he felt the ache in his heart easing a little more with every kilometer flying past.
On this summer day, the vast sky gleamed incandescently pale overhead. Canola and wheat flowed golden on either side of the road, pumpjacks nodding lazily at intervals amongst the undulating stalks. A forest of gleaming white windmills appeared, whirling harmonically, then shrank again behind.
Thoughts drifting, Sam didn't realize the approaching farm was his destination until the unassuming blue sign popped up in the ditch, numbers gleaming white. A blazing sun hung a hand's breadth above the horizon as he slammed on the brakes and yanked at the wheel to make the sharp turn; the pedal juddered under his foot, tires spitting gravel.
The little silver hatchback bumped jarringly along the deeply rutted drive until he pulled aside onto a small flat patch of freshly mown grass and cut the engine. Music and air conditioning left an echo in the sudden silence.
Heat pressed into him when he opened the door, sweat popping out all over his skin as he stepped out and shaded his eyes with a hand.
Vehicles cluttered the dusty farmyard, cars and trucks and farm equipment in various states of disrepair. Beyond, a meandering stone path emerged from the grass, leading to a small house. Cheerful blue and green paint peeled under sagging eaves. Sunflowers bobbed languidly below white-trimmed windows. On the other side of the yard, an enormous greenhouse glittered in the sun; behind it towered a pair of corrugated-steel silos. Fencing all was a tidy rectangle of coarse-barked green poplars and short-needled blue spruce, planted a generation ago to deflect the wind that prowled ceaselessly across the rippling prairies.
On this day, gentle breeze sighing through the emerald leaves of the windbreak was the loudest sound until Sam slammed the car door behind him.
A man was already emerging from under the raised hood of a rust-scarred blue pickup truck, frowning. He was younger than Sam by at least a couple years, late twenties at the oldest; he wore long brown hair in a low ponytail and a full beard bristled, unruly, on his chin. A grease-spotted white t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders above faded jeans and scuffed work boots.
Wiping his hands on a dirty cloth, he squinted at Sam, taking in crisp green golf shirt, black hair in a short, side-swept haircut, clean white sneakers barely brushed with dust.
Sam put on his best smile as he approached. Tucking his briefcase up under his arm and pulling off gold-wire aviator sunglasses with the left, he held out his right hand.
"Gordon Keller? I'm Sam Chen, with Vivid Energy. We spoke on the phone."
They shook firmly, callused fingers rough against Sam's.
"Just Gord is fine," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "Yer late."
Sam smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I got held up at my last stop. Is this a bad time? We can reschedule for tomorrow if you'd prefer. I'm staying in town tonight, so it would be no problem to get out here first thing in the morning."
Gord shook his head. "Let's get this over with. C'mon inside."
Leaving his tools on the ground and the hood up on the truck, he led the way up the path, Sam talking behind him the whole way.
"Thanks, this sun is roasting me alive. Weather's been oppressive lately. Nice change from all the rain this spring, I guess." Sam laughed.
They stepped inside and pulled off their footwear as eyes adjusted to dim light. Gord's boots thumped onto the mat.
Sam continued cheerfully, "It's always good to put a face to a voice, but I have to admit I thought you'd be older. You have a beautiful home here. Just starting some renovations?"
The cozy house was comfortably furnished, but strips had been peeled out of the faded, floral-patterned wallpaper in the hallway and dark shadows gaped where baseboards and switchplates were missing.
Leading the way down the hall into the kitchen on the back of the house, Gord said, "Started a while ago. Should actually have some time to work on it now."
"I understand. My building's in the middle of reno hell. We got flooded in June."
"Heard the city got it hard."
"Once in a hundred year flood, they're calling it," Sam agreed, wryly. "Does that make us lucky, to have lived through it? And of course I live right in the middle of the floodplain. It was gonna be a big job just to fix the damage, but the condo board voted to refinish all the shared spaces at the same time; hallways, workout centre, everything. It's a nightmare of contractors right now."
Gord gestured at the small square kitchen table, an invitation to sit. "Can I get you somethin'? I got beer--"
"No, thanks," Sam said lightly, easing into a chair at the table. There was a deep gouge out of the wood surface in front of him. Setting his briefcase on the floor beside him, he added, "I've been on the wagon two years last month, not looking to fall off again."
Gord paused, one hand leaning on the door of the fridge. "Lemonade?"
"Lemonade would be fantastic, actually. Thanks." Sam peered at the photographs hanging on the wall in simple white frames. A pair of dark-haired children smiled toothily at the camera, in a lushly blooming garden and on a sandy beach and from out of the back of a red car. "Cute kids. They yours? I didn't see any toys around."
"My sister's. They're out East." Setting two glasses on the table, Gord sat across from Sam. Eyes caught the plain gold wedding band on his left hand as Sam reached for the sweating glass. "You got kids?"
Sam took a long drink, gratefully. "No, I'm afraid not. Part of the reason we're separated, actually. Is this made with fresh lemons? It's delicious."
"Got a tree in the greenhouse." Gord studied him. "You always so open with strangers?"
"I do tend to share," Sam agreed lightly. "You'll probably be seeing a lot more of me than you'd like over the next few years, so I hope you don't hold it against me." He laughed. "Honestly, it's mostly a distraction tactic. Give people something to think about besides the fact that I'm not white. You know, sometimes rural folk can be a little..."
"Redneck?" Tone ripe with amusement, Gord's eyebrows lifted slightly. Bristling beard twitched with the tiniest hint of a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth.
"Your word, not mine," Sam teased, smiling back.
"We're all a little redneck 'round here, city boy," Gord told him, and Sam wasn't totally sure whether he was joking but he laughed anyway.
"Is it just you here, then? Have you lived here long?"
Gord rolled his big shoulders, shirt pulling tighter across his broad chest. "Grew up here. Came back a little over a year ago, when my old man got sick and needed lookin' after."
"Oh, is he doing okay?"
"He's gone."
"Ah." Sam hesitated. "I'm sorry for your loss."
Gord just shrugged again, darkness shuttering behind clear green eyes. "So, we got business or what?"
"Of course." Sam set down his empty lemonade glass. His demeanour shifted subtly, shoulders squaring, going serious. "As I mentioned on the phone, Vivid has acquired most of the mineral rights under your land."
"The wells on the range road," Gord said, half-questioningly.
"Yes, the existing wells and most of the petroleum and natural gas rights as well. We bought the assets off the last operator. I'm sure you've noticed that the name on the rental cheques has changed."
Gord made a sound of agreement in his throat.
"Vivid is a small company," Sam continued earnestly. "Privately funded, and committed to operating with integrity. Making these personal connections with our stakeholders is very important to us. I'll be your main point of contact, so please don't ever hesitate to get in touch with me if you need anything."
Sam paused, briefly; when Gord just looked at him without comment, he went on.
"I hope you've seen the surface lease agreements for the producing wells. Please let me know if you don't have them, I can provide new copies if necessary. If you haven't, I recommend you familiarize yourself with the terms." He kept talking as he pulled papers out of his briefcase. "In any case, this is the reason I'm here today. We're planning to license this location."
Gord frowned at the map Sam unfolded over the scratched table top. "What's this mean for me?"
"Well, this is where we'd like to acquire the surface lease." Sam's finger traced the boundary of the small rectangular plot of land as denoted on the map. "We've tried to pick a location as non-disruptive to you as possible that still meets our subsurface needs, but depending on any concerns you may have, we can move it as necessary."
Gord looked up at Sam, eyes appraising. "And if I say no?"
Sam smiled, lips together. "Well, I hope you don't say no, but if you're really against it, I certainly hope you'll let me try to change your mind."
"Hm." Gord looked back down at the map, elbows canted comfortably on the table. "S'pose I'm willin' to talk."
"I'm glad to hear it. Of course, Vivid offers compensation for any crop losses if we build the lease before crops come off, and we'll negotiate a fair rent for the land. Here, let me walk you through the details of what we're proposing."
Their voices filled the small kitchen, light and deep, pressing back the dense quiet. The lowering sun crept into view in the window above the sink, shining warm and bright across the table, slowly darkening to burnt gold before it edged below the window frame. As light faded, air grew chill.
At last, Sam began to gather up his papers. "Thanks so much for your time, Gord."
"'Course," Gord said gruffly.
"Please feel free to review the agreement with a lawyer if it makes you more comfortable. I promise I won't be offended." Sam let out a small laugh. "Seriously, though. The last thing I want is for you to feel like you've been treated unfairly."
Pressing his palms into the table, Gord pushed himself to his feet.
"Again, don't hesitate to call if you have any questions or concerns. Oh, let me give you my card."
Sam patted at his pockets until he produced a small white card with a swooping purple logo in the corner. Sam's title was below his name in a crisp font: VP Land.
"Vice President? You're not old enough for a title like that."
Laughing, Sam scooped up his briefcase. "I'll admit it still feels bizarre. There's only eight of us, though, so we're mostly all VP's. Makes us feel important. And gives us standing when we're dealing with other companies, which I suppose is the real purpose."
Gord tucked the card into his back pocket.
As they walked to the door, Sam went on, "Mark Desjardins will be acting as our operator. He used to contract with the previous rights holders, so it makes sense to keep him on since he knows the assets."
"I know Marky," Gord said gruffly. "Married my cousin Alice."
Sam chuckled. He perched on the small white stool in the corner to tie his laces. "I know. Actually, when I told him I was coming out here, he warned me about you."
Gord's brown eyebrows arched upwards. "Me?"
Twisting the loops of his shoelace bow to tighten it, Sam grinned up at Gord. "He told me you'd be trouble."
"Trouble," Gord repeated dubiously.
"He didn't give me any specifics," Sam said with a laugh. "I figured it was some kinda inside joke."
Gord scratched fingers along his jaw through his full beard. "Maybe somethin' like that."
"Well, I'm not gonna ask, so unless there's something I should know..." Palms against his knees, Sam stood. "You can expect a call from him to get access for the surveyor within probably two weeks. Thanks again for your time. It was great to meet you."
He gave that blinding smile, white teeth shining, and Gord couldn't help but smile back. They shook hands again.
"You too, Sam."
"And thank you for the delicious lemonade. See you later."
With a little wave, Sam trotted down the stairs and crossed the yard to his car. When he started the engine he glanced back at the house briefly. Gord was still leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, the setting sun turning his brown hair to gold as he watched Sam turn the car and bump away up the long dirt drive.