by Mary Bowers
“And what about you, Logan?” Nettie asked. “Do you have a wife and children? Oh, no, of course not,” she said quickly, “or they’d be here with you. And yet you said you weren’t here to do research?”
“You’re right, I don’t have a family, and as I said last night, I’m just here on vacation.”
His back had stiffened, and I wondered what had made my aunt say something like that. It was obvious he was a bachelor, and a lonely one at that. He must have thought she was looking for a husband for me, which was embarrassing. It just wasn’t like her.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said, laying on the charm. “Perhaps you were telling Paige about yourself last night, but I was talking to Henry and I didn’t hear all of it.”
He was all smiles and forgiveness immediately, in his shaggy-dog way, and I thought how nice he seemed, underneath it all. Pathetic, of course, but like many slightly awkward people, he was forgiving when other people slipped up.
So we were chummy again by the time we parted ways, and since he had to walk past our car to get to his, I even stopped him and showed him the yarn I’d bought. He took the pistachio skein into his hands and fingered the yarn gently, apparently delighted with it somehow.
“Very pretty,” he said, handing it back. “Will you finish the mittens while you’re here? I’d like to see them.”
I shrugged. “It depends on how much time I get to knit. I’ll probably at least finish the color chart, and that’ll give you an idea how they’re going to come out.”
“Why don’t we go back to our cabin now and you can get your project started while I have a nap before I see Henry,” Nettie said. “That way you can get the pattern going while nobody is distracting you.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m excited to get it going, and it’s a nice warm afternoon. I can sit on the porch.”
“Thank you for joining us, Logan,” Nettie said. “It was so nice to be able to talk to you.”
“It was my pleasure. See you both back at the ranch. We’re still on for fish boil tonight?”
“Of course.”
We waved to him and got into the car.
On the way back down Route 42, Nettie was unusually thoughtful. I was enjoying the scenery as I drove, but finally I had to ask her why she was being so quiet.
“What did Logan tell you about himself last night?”
I was a little surprised, but I told her all I could remember, leaving out the full text of the fairy lecture.
“Hmmm,” she said, settling back after I’d finished. “I wonder what he’s up to. Her I can figure, but not him.”
“What makes you think he’s up to anything at all? A man can take a vacation.”
She shook her head. “He’s not here on vacation, and neither is she.”
I shot her a glance. “They’re not?”
“No.”
“Oh, I get it,” I said. “They’re after the legend of the troll, and they’re working together to get it so they can publish it.”
“Of course not. At least, I hope not. Arnie would be furious. But it’s just too big a coincidence that they’re both here at the same time. He didn’t seem happy to see her. In fact, I think he was surprised to see her.”
“O-kay,” I drawled. “So what are you thinking? You said you had her figured. Figured how?”
She gave me a disappointed look. “Oh, come on, Paige. I know you were interested in your new pattern back at the shop, but anybody could have picked up on the fact that Gerda is attracted to Logan, if not in love with him.”
“In love with him? She’s been trashing his pet theories for years.”
“And it got him to notice her. They’re not from the same university, but they probably travel in the same small circles and they had to have met somewhere. Afterwards, she remembered him and he promptly forgot her. Well, he knows who she is now.”
“Kind of a stupid way of getting noticed – making a guy hate you. That would be the essential Gerda, though, as far as I can make her out. It’s probably the double-reverse whammy, where she can’t help pushing away a man she’s attracted to because she’s mad at herself for being fatheaded enough to fall in love with him. Now that’s a theory I can buy into, especially with what I’ve seen of Gerda so far.”
Nettie shook her head. “You’re making it too complicated. She doesn’t know what she’s feeling, and she may not have fallen off the edge yet, one way or another. Hatred is just the other side of the razor’s edge from love.”
I gave it a few minutes, because Nettie is usually very wise about these things, but finally I had to say, “No it’s not. It’s on the slippery slope to homicide by strangulation.”
“Well, sometimes, but sometimes the opposite happens. Love and hate are both powerful, out-of-control emotions. How often have you seen couples fighting on soap operas, then gazing deeply into one another’s eyes before they’re suddenly passionately kissing?”
“Never, but then I don’t watch soap operas. And if you want to talk about real life, also never. Mark and Gillian O’Neil were fighting at breakfast this morning. If they went outside, glared at one another and then started making out in the parking lot, I would have noticed.”
“Oh, those two. They’re married. That’s different. And neither one can be the baby anymore because they’ve got a child and she’s the baby. Going all the way to Sturgeon Bay for better wi-fi? Please. That man is up to something, and his wife isn’t interested enough to even notice. No, I mean people who are still in the stalking pool. Gerda and Logan are both single, about the same age, and they have the same interests. Logan is rather attractive, and Gerda isn’t.”
“Yeah, there’s a soap opera for you. Logan’s attractive?” I said, suddenly realizing what she’d tacked on at the end.
“In a weather-beaten way.” She turned to look at me and smiled. “I think he likes you.”
“He thinks I eat like a lumberjack.”
“Exactly. If I were you,” she added with a change of tone, “I’d start trashing his theories.”
“Oh, brother,” I muttered.
We were quiet for a few minutes, and finally I said, “It’s just your suspicious mind, Aunt Nettie. It’s an occupational hazard, from all those years having a detective for a husband. Everybody you two ever talked about was a suspect. Logan’s a good guy, even if he is kind of a bore, but I’m definitely not interested in getting to know him better. He’s a pixie-chaser. But go ahead and do your detective thing on him, if it keeps you happy.”
With that, we let the subject drop.
Chapter 9 – Knitting Alone, But Not For Long
The afternoon was cool enough that I would have to wear a light jacket to sit on the porch with my knitting project, but I went outside anyway. There was a nice little worktable under a good light inside the cabin, but somehow I wanted to be outdoors.
I read my instructions, wound two balls for the contrast colors, rolled a second ball from the oatmeal-colored skein, then cast on and began my ribbing, working both mittens at the same time.
Despite living in a place like Rapid City for a few years, I hadn’t done any knitting for a while. It was a joy working my hands again in that smooth, expert way. Wondering why I hadn’t started a new project in so long made me remember Robert the Rat for the first time in over a full day. He never liked it when I concentrated on something other than him. I grinned and forgot him again, and I happily knitted on, knit two, purl two.
Alone on the porch, I was able to enjoy the sound of the breeze through the rattling leaves without having to feel the edge of the wind. I wasn’t going to be joining the cherry color for a little while yet, so I sat back and let my hands work like little machines and let my mind wander. I had about thirty happy minutes like that before Gail showed up.
She took a glance at my porch, then stopped and took a harder look through the screen, saying, “Is that you in there, Paige?”
“Hi, Gail.”
“Henry was looking for you a little w
hile ago. Or rather, he was looking for your aunt. I thought they were a couple?”
“They sort-of are,” I told her, knitting away without having to look down. “I wanted to go shopping with my aunt this morning, and Henry said he’d go his own way for a while. Nettie’s having a nap now. We’ll all get together again later on.”
“I see.”
She came closer and I was forced to invite her onto the porch, darn it. And I was just about to join the cherry yarn and begin the color pattern, which would take a little concentration. She asked the usual questions about what I was making, looked at my pattern without real interest, then proceeded to sit herself across from me and pick my brain about Henry.
Double darn. Gail seemed to be taking quite an interest in my aunt’s man-friend, and Gail was a very chic lady. Men who are longing for hearth and home tend to be more attracted to women like Nettie, but the Gails of this world can cause a lot of trouble while they dart around looking for fun.
I headed her off.
“We saw that woman Gerda while we were out shopping this morning. Isn’t she a brat? And she couldn’t make herself more unattractive if she tried. In fact, maybe she is trying. Those academic types can go too far, wanting to be taken seriously for their brains.”
She looked off into the trees across the road from Trollhaven. “I feel sorry for her,” she said softly.
“I don’t.” I counted my stitches, then set my work aside with regret. The pretty cherry yarn would have to wait, and I’d been really looking forward to seeing it knit in against the main color. The change in Gail’s tone of voice made me forget about that and look up at her.
“She could be really pretty if she tried,” Gail said. “She’s got good bones, and lovely eyes. I’d love to give her a makeover.”
“One quick swipe with scalpel would get rid of that mole. Are you good with knives?”
She smiled weakly. “And those bulky sweaters she wears make her look much fatter than she really is.”
“How do you know she isn’t just as fat as she looks?”
“Oh, I can tell.”
She probably could. She had an eye for that kind of thing, and a natural sense of style. “Hmm, I’m sure you could give her a few pointers. Are you hoping to do a good deed today?” I said it jokingly, but there really are those godmotherly types out there, looking for some poor slob to turn into a princess.
“I’d help her if I could.”
“But she’s such a disagreeable person,” I said. “I’d feel sorry for her if she’d just be a little bit nice, but you should have seen her in the yarn shop this morning, trying to one-up the owner as if she didn’t know her own business. I can’t stand those people who always have to prove they’re the smartest ones in the room.”
“Well, I always try to be fair to people, no matter what. Sometimes people like that are in a lot of pain. You have to get to know them, Paige. Oh, there’s Arnie. Do you mind if I go talk to him? I was asking him about this year’s cherry crop. He said it was too late for fresh ones, but he’d find out if anybody still had them in the freezer.”
“That’s fine, Gail. Thanks for stopping by.”
And thanks for going away. I picked up my knitting and went for the cherry yarn like I was going to eat it.
* * * * *
I was past the first section of the color pattern and just doing plain stockinette in the main color again when my aunt came out of the cabin looking soft, pink and sleepy from her nap.
“Having fun, dear?” she asked. “Oh my, look how much you’ve done already!”
“I’m a machine. Gail stopped by. She was asking about Henry. I should have told her you two had a date for dinner tonight.”
“You and Logan are going to be there too.”
“She didn’t need to know that part.”
“I’m sure she’ll find out. If she’s interested, that is. It’s not as if Henry and I have any kind of understanding yet,” she added primly.
I set my knitting aside. “You know, Aunt Nettie, it’s lucky for you I dumped a guy and needed a place to stay for while right when I did. Your tactics with men need a lot of work. This is the 21st Century. Women don’t fade away like dying flowers anymore. They get out their claws and fight. Your guy Henry might have a cougar after him.”
“I’m actually more worried about Arnie on that score.”
“Any warm body is fair game to a cougar on the hunt, and Henry’s body ain’t cold yet. You need to pull yourself together and stand your ground, unless you’d rather end up with somebody like Duke.”
Her eyelids gave a tired flutter, and looking around a little desperately, she managed to dodge the subject again.
“Oh, look, here come Faye and Justin. Let’s not talk about these things in front of the children. How did you like helping Justin today, Faye?” she called to them. “Is it nice, down by the shore?”
The little group turned our way, Loki wagging all over himself, Justin looking tired, and Faye talking a blue streak and barely pausing for breath as they moved toward us.
“She was a big help,” Justin said as they came up to the bottom of the porch steps. I would have called them onto the porch if it hadn’t been for Loki; I was still knitting, and I didn’t want to have to untangle him from my yarn. They sat down on the steps, and Justin went on praising Faye. “She watched me to make sure I stayed safe on the rocks, and she held the garbage bag open for me so I could throw the trash in.”
“Justin let me help him sometimes, but mostly I just sat and watched. I didn’t get dirty or anything. And Justin showed me the mound where the trolls live.”
“Where the trolls live?” Nettie said, with that access of interest you work up for a child who’s telling you something. “Goodness me, did you see the trolls?”
“Not yet. I’m not going to bother them, though. They just want us to leave them alone. We have to respect their privacy,” she added piously.
“I gotta get home now,” Justin said. “Thanks for helping me today, Faye.”
“Can I help you again tomorrow?” she asked eagerly.
“Yeah, sure, if your parents say it’s okay. My aunt still has a lot of chores that need doing.”
Evaline was walking up, and I suspected that she and Justin had prearranged a handoff, just in case Faye’s parents weren’t back yet. Loki got up and went to Evaline for a pat on the head. She looked down at him and said, “It’s about time for your dinner, isn’t it, boy?”
He picked up on the word “dinner” and gave her a hearty, “Woof,” developing a case of the wiggles.
“We’ll go up to the kitchen now and get that for you.” But instead of taking the dog away, she looked down at the girl and said, “Well, did you have fun today, Faye? Your mom came back a little while ago. She’s in your cabin. Let’s go see if she’ll let us keep you a little while longer. You’ve been out by the water all day and it’s a little cold out there. Would you like some hot chocolate? With whipped cream on top?”
“And maybe a cookie?” I said excitedly, as if I were Faye’s age.
I was doubtful that Gillian would let Faye come with us, since she’d already been away from her all day, but she said it was fine with her, and no, she wouldn’t join us. She’d been lying down with a headache, and she would send Mark over to get Faye when he got back.
I could just imagine what was going to happen when Mark got back. It was just as well we were keeping Faye. I wondered if that was the reason we were all trooping up to the main house for cookies. Unlike me, Evaline had been keeping a watch all day, and she knew Mark wasn’t back yet.
Evaline came back from the O’Neil’s cabin making a big come-on-along gesture that included everybody, and said, “Let’s go. The afternoon cookies are just out of the oven, and there’s coffee and tea on the porch. And hot chocolate, too.”
I left my knitting on the cabin’s porch, and Nettie and I followed Faye and Evaline up to the main house, where we’d had breakfast that morning.
&
nbsp; I don’t know who was more pleased, Nettie or myself, when Henry came out of his cabin and joined us. I gave a wary look around for Gail but she wasn’t anywhere nearby. I figured the four of us were enough; we didn’t need her.
Nettie had tea and Henry and I opted for coffee, but I accepted a big helping of whipped cream on top of mine while Henry took his black. The four of us sat at the same table together and felt that hot glow you get when you come inside after being outdoors in the cold for a while. Everyone except for Henry was wearing a coat, but Evaline had the porch heaters on and within a few minutes, we began to shed the outerwear. Faye took her puffy pink coat off and sighed deeply, happy with her day’s work with Justin. Evaline said something about getting Justin to put the windows up around the porch tomorrow.
“I’m going to help him,” Faye said.
Evaline nodded. Her mouth tried to smile, but her eyes were worried, and after a quick glance at the guest cabins, she went back inside for the cookies.
“So where is this troll’s mound?” I asked Faye, wanting to keep the little girl engaged.
“Over down by the bank of the bay,” she said, quite the expert. “Not right down from the cabins, here; just up north a ways, but not too far. Justin pointed it out, but he didn’t let me get too close.”
“What does it look like?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t think anything of it if you were just walking by it,” she said. “It’s just kind of a dirt mound, with a lot of dead branches and stuff on it. Justin says the trolls think the branches can disguise it from us big folk, and he never lets them suspect he knows they’re there, so we had to be quiet and not point at it while he told me about it. We big folk need to be careful we don’t get too close.”
That worried me a little. Faye was obviously entranced with the trolls. “Is it very near the water?”
She considered. “Mmm, not real near, like, not right beside it, but not up past the tree-line, either. If a storm comes and the water rises, the trolls don’t want their home to get all muddy and wet.”
Evaline came in with the cookies and her father was right behind her.