Chapter 51

Friday, October 15, 2021

Cedarville, Maryland

Pamela eased into the porch rocker, its familiar creak offering a lullaby for her newborn son, Kaden. She inhaled deeply, savoring the warmth of the ceramic mug against her palm and the spiced aroma of apple cider mingling with the crisp October air. A gust fluttered through the maples lining Willow Creek Drive, sending a confetti of amber and crimson leaves pirouetting past. As dusk settled over the quiet Baltimore suburb of Cedarville, porch lights winked on in sequence, like a constellation emerging at twilight. Pamela’s shoulders relaxed, the day’s tension melting away as Kaden’s tiny fingers found purchase on the collar of her well-worn Ravens sweatshirt.

Exhaustion tugged at Pamela’s eyelids, a souvenir from her first day back at work since before Kaden’s birth. Her Etsy store, dormant for three months, had sprung to life with the steady ping of incoming orders. Between Kaden’s erratic naps, she’d coaxed her old heat press back into service, printing a run of custom T-shirts that now hung like colorful flags across the hobby room. Her hands still smelled of the acrylic paints she’d used on a set of Chesapeake Bay coasters, each tiny blue crab and lighthouse a testament to stolen moments of creativity.

As she’d finished the last order, pride in her craftsmanship intertwined with tendrils of guilt, each vying for dominance. The heat press exhaled a final sigh as it cooled, its diminishing hum underscoring the delicate balance Pamela now faced. In that moment, the whispering machine seemed to articulate a new reality – the high-wire act between the business she’d meticulously cultivated for five years and the tiny soul who now commanded her every waking thought had officially commenced. Pamela’s gaze drifted to the baby monitor, Kaden’s gentle coos pulling her in two directions at once. Looks like life is about to become one hell of a juggling act.

Rocking, Pamela slipped into a hazy reverie, the day’s memories blurring with the quiet beauty surrounding her. Between the swaying trees, Willow Creek shimmered in the fading light, its steady rush toward Bird River a liquid metronome. The stream’s persistence echoed the swift current of change in her own life, a thought that tightened her hold on Kaden. She studied his tiny face, tracing the curve of his cheek with a gentle finger. In just two months, this small bundle had become the center of her universe, redefining her with each gurgle and yawn. His weight felt at once foreign and profoundly right, a visceral reminder of her life’s drastic shift since the onset of COVID, like the seasons painting the maples in autumn hues.

A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of pumpkin spice from a neighbor’s window, mingling with the earthy aroma of fallen leaves. Across the street, a child’s laughter echoed as his parents hung fake cobwebs and plastic jack-o’-lanterns, their excitement for the upcoming Halloween evident. The festive preparations emphasized the imminent arrival of fall celebrations, each plastic ghost and cardboard skeleton heralding Kaden’s first holiday season.

Pamela’s gaze drifted to the living room window, where gauzy curtains – a housewarming gift from her mother – rippled in the evening breeze. The sight evoked recent memories of their frantic move and the loving chaos that followed. Pamela could almost hear the echo of power tools and laughter that had filled their new home in those final breathless weeks before Kaden’s arrival.

Candice’s artistic touch had transformed the nursery walls into a dreamy wonderland, her brush strokes still crisp and vibrant. Paula’s triumphant grin flashed in Pamela’s mind – the same grin she’d worn after conquering the flatpack furniture armed with nothing but determination and a screwdriver. And Colt – powerful, steadfast Colt – had been his usual, steadying force each evening, restoring order to the day’s creative mayhem.

“Pamela, sit down before I duct tape you to that chair,” he’d tease, gently prying a duster from her hands. “Your job is growing our son. Let us handle the rest.”

Those words, and the love behind them, had wrapped around Pamela like a heated blanket, soothing the restlessness of her final trimester. Now, as Kaden sighed contentedly in her arms, Pamela felt a surge of gratitude for the family that had poured their hearts into welcoming him home.

I’m so happy we’re back in Maryland for good. This is where we need to be.

Kaden’s wide brown eyes gazed up at Pamela, a mirror of her own. I love you so much, baby boy. She traced the curve of his cheek, marveling at how this miniature being arrived fashionably late. August 12, 2021 – the day etched forever in her heart, nearly two weeks past her due date. You’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

Memories consumed Pamela, as vivid now as they had been two months ago. The long hours of labor, Colt’s unwavering presence at her side, and Lindsay’s unexpected but welcome arrival in the delivery room just as things had started to intensify.

“I’m here,” Lindsay announced, slipping inside with a quiet resolve. “What do you need?”

Pamela reached for her hand, grateful beyond words. “Just... stay.”

And Lindsay did stay, becoming a calm counterpoint to Colt’s nervous energy. Between contractions, Pamela had caught snippets of the waiting room drama from the nurses – her sisters running a baby weight pool, her mother pacing restlessly. I just wish Dad was still alive so he could be here too.

“Sounds like a circus out there,” Colt had quipped, wiping Pamela’s brow.

Lindsay smirked. “Bet you fifty bucks your mom’s reorganized the waiting room furniture twice by now.”

That had drawn a laugh from Pamela, a brief respite before another contraction hit.

Sometime later, as Kaden’s first cry filled the room, Pamela experienced a surge of love so intense it took her breath away. Colt’s eyes shimmered with tears as he’d cut the cord, and Lindsay squeezed Pamela’s shoulder, her composure cracking to reveal raw emotion.

“He’s perfect,” Colt whispered, massaging Kaden’s shoulder as he lay in Pamela’s arms.

“He’s beyond perfect,” Lindsay added softly, her smile warm and tinged with a hint of wistfulness.

Cradling Kaden while surrounded by Colt and Lindsay, a profound sense of rightness settled over Pamela. Their unconventional bond had only strengthened, expanding to embrace this new life they’d all welcomed into the world.

Kaden Thomas McCarron. The name they’d chosen rolled off her tongue like a prayer, a promise. Worth every moment of the long wait, every second of anticipation.

Their little August surprise.

But when the dust settled, it was the tiny human in her arms and Colt’s watery gaze that crystallized the moment for Pamela. The birth had been grueling, yes, but she’d steeled herself for that. I expected it. What caught her off guard was the tsunami of emotion that blindsided her the instant Kaden’s weight settled against her chest.

And Colt – oh, Colt.

The raw wonder etched across his features as he gazed upon their son for the first time burned itself into Pamela’s memory, a snapshot of pure, unguarded joy she knew she’d carry forever.

He’s always dreamed of being a father.

As they’d relaxed together, counting Kaden’s fingers and toes, marveling at whose features he’d inherited, an overwhelming sense of completion enveloped Pamela. It was as if every twist and turn in her life had been leading to this moment, this perfect confluence of love and purpose.

Look at him. He’s crying! I’m so happy for Colt.

And in the two months since bringing Kaden home, those emotions hadn’t faded. Instead, they’d deepened, evolving into something richer and more complex. The challenges – the pain of breastfeeding, the misery of mastitis, the exhaustion of sleepless nights – couldn’t dim the fierce joy that burned in Pamela’s heart. Even when Colt had to travel to Nevada for the Flagstone city hall hearings to finalize the sale of Happy Ending Ranch to Lindsay, leaving her alone with Kaden for three sleepless nights, that sense of rightness remained.

Colt, ever attentive, atoned upon his return. He’d insisted Pamela take a full day to shop with her sisters, pampering herself without guilt. When she returned home, he’d drawn her a bubble bath, handling all things baby-related with his trademarked composure.

Between his long shifts as Director of Guest Relations at Charm City Suites in downtown Baltimore, Colt transformed in Kaden’s presence. Pamela found herself transfixed by these moments. The corporate polish would slip away, replaced by a tender awe as Colt gathered their son in his arms. Those hands, so often occupied with hotel ledgers and client dossiers, now cradled Kaden with infinite gentleness. Pamela’s heart swelled, watching her husband’s eyes soften, his protective embrace seeming to promise shelter from all of life’s future storms.

If Pamela had found Colt attractive as a businessman, seeing him as a father ignited something primal within her. Pamela suppressed a wry grin, grateful that her body was still recovering from childbirth. Her ovaries didn’t need any ideas just yet.

457.

After whipping out her smartphone and gazing at the latest incoming text, Pamela smiled, thoughts again drifting to her friend, former lover, and now a wildly successful business owner in her own right. The number stood alone, a response to an earlier message when Pamela inquired about Lindsay’s current body count at the brothel. Though still a far cry from Pamela’s legendary record of 2,505, the steady climb spoke volumes about Lindsay’s determination and the booming business at Happy Ending Ranch.

Hopefully 460 after tonight.

Pamela’s smile widened at the next text, a mix of pride and nostalgia washing over her. Lindsay’s ambition was as strong as ever, her drive to succeed undiminished by time or circumstance. We couldn’t have left the brothel in better hands, could we? The numbers might be just digits on her iPhone, but to Pamela, they represented so much more – a shared history, a continuing connection, and the enduring spirit of a woman she deeply admired.

Lindsay’s coronation as LPIN’s “Courtesan of the Year” for 2021 had been announced the previous month, a triumph that sent her signature exuberance into overdrive. Pamela had been electrified by the late-night phone call, her eyes misting as Lindsay’s voice ricocheted between breathless laughter and joyful exclamations. This accolade, Pamela knew, transcended mere ledgers or client tallies; it stood as a testament to Lindsay’s inexhaustible spirit, her unparalleled empathy for every monger, her fierce advocacy for her colleagues’ well-being, and a relentless crusade to dismantle the stigma shrouding sex work.

Courtesan of the Year. Dayummmmm, girl. You’ve reached heights even I never did.

And God, am I proud of you.

For Pamela, this honor crowned Lindsay’s extraordinary odyssey. She could still envision the polite eighteen-year-old that had first touched down on Happy Ending Ranch’s sun-scorched gravel: Lindsay, a tempest of questions and ideas barely concealing her rookie nerves.

From those tentative first steps, Lindsay had carved a path of grit and innovation: weathering a baptism by fire during her first tour, meteoric rise to become the ranch’s top earner, deft navigation to seize ownership, and now, emergence as a trailblazer redefining society’s perception of the industry.

Pamela marveled at the similar paths she and Lindsay had traveled. Different routes, perhaps, but both leading to a shared destination of empowerment and self-realization. “Hey, Kaden. Are you hungry? Hungry, baby?”

Pamela closed her eyes, picturing Lindsay at the award ceremony. She could almost hear the rapid clip of Lindsay’s heels as she bounded onto the stage, her cheeks flushed with triumph. In her mind’s eye, she saw Lindsay’s fingers drumming excitedly on the podium, her words tumbling out in a breathless cascade of thanks and ambitious plans.