Clam Wake

by Mary Daheim

“Wha’? Oh, right, Little Girl,” Vince said, using his affectionate, if not accurate, pet name for Vanessa. “Hi, Judith.” He pecked her on the cheek and immediately headed for a kitchen chair.

  Judith smiled faintly, accustomed to the nickname that he’d always called his Amazonian wife. She was also used to her uncle’s habit of nodding off any place, any time, and under any conditions. He’d been a dairy deliveryman for his entire career and had never recovered from getting up at three A.M. Thus he had never been able to break the pattern of going to sleep in broad daylight. The Webers had dated for years, marrying late in life, and had never had children. Instead, they lavished good deeds on the entire Grover clan, though Auntie Vance would only scoff at efforts to repay them for their kindnesses.

  “Get some jars,” Vance ordered. “You sure you want two gallons?”

  “Yes,” Judith said, before going in the pantry. “Even with Joe gone, Mother and I can eat that many clams before the weekend’s over.”

  “No, you can’t,” Vance asserted. “You won’t be here for the weekend. Vince and I leave tomorrow to visit Ellen and Win in Beatrice, Nebraska. You’re going to house-sit for us. It’s all arranged. Now, how many clams do you really want?”

  Chapter 2

  Judith’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Vance said. “I already told Gert and talked to the Rankers. They’ll fill in for you here while you’re on Whoopee Island. You’ll probably want to take Renie with you, so we’ll stop off to give her the news on our way back home.”

  Judith started to protest. “But—”

  “No buts, butt-head.” Vance laughed. “God, I haven’t seen you look so surprised since you and Renie made yourselves into a horse for my birthday party forty years ago. You fell down and Renie lost her rear end. She looked kind of surprised, too. Talk about a couple of horse’s—”

  “Stop!” Judith held up her hands. “I need to sit. Please, Auntie Vance. Wouldn’t you like some coffee?”

  “I’m fine. Stick Vince’s head in the pot and maybe he’ll wake up. Or drown.” She charged ahead into the kitchen.

  Despite her harsh words, Vance poured coffee for Judith and Vince before joining them at the table. “Okay, here’s why we’re going to Beatrice. Aunt Ellen’s having shoulder surgery today. You know how she works three jobs and is involved in at least two dozen volunteer organizations. Uncle Win can’t keep up with all that while she’s in the hospital, so we volunteered to help. We won’t be gone more than a week. My sister can’t stay put any longer than that, and once she’s mobile, we’ll take off before Ellen and I kill each other.”

  Judith nodded faintly. Uncle Vince just nodded off.

  “As for you and Renie coming up to our place,” Vance went on, “there’s an emergency meeting tomorrow night of everybody who lives at Obsession Shores. In the past few months there’s been a lot of wrangling with some of the local morons, including a couple of new owners who bought land that won’t percolate. You know that means they can’t put in a septic tank. The dumb-asses should never have bought in, but that’s what dumb-asses do—dumb-assed stuff. Anyway, they’re trying to run a sewer line through the development, and if you think the rest of us want to pay for something like that, then you’re a dumb-ass, too.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t want that,” Judith agreed. “But if there are only two couples, aren’t they outnumbered about thirty to one?”

  Vance shook her curly graying blond head. “You’re right about the number of owners, but the original population has aged since we moved up there after Vince retired. Close to a third of them head south for the winter. And there are another dozen or more who only live at Obsession Shores in the summer. I doubt many—even any—of them will bother coming to the island for the meeting.”

  “So,” Judith said, “what are Renie and I supposed to do? Blow up the place wherever this civil war is going to be fought?”

  “That’s right,” Vance asserted. “I’ve named you and Renie as our proxies. That’s legal, so you’ll represent us. Of course you’ll vote no.”

  “Of course.” Judith made a face. “Did I just say that?”

  Vance slapped her hand on the table. “Yes. Now be damned sure you take an early ferry. It may be winter, but there’s still quite a bit of weekend traffic over to the island. Off-season for crab pots, by the way.”

  “Darn,” Judith said softly. “Are you sure all of this is okay with Arlene and Carl?”

  “You bet your ass it is, twerp. I gave them a pile of clams, too. Lucky we were able to catch the Rankerses before they head for Palm Springs at the end of the month. Carl and Arlene are glad to get out of the house. Their downstairs is being painted starting on Monday.”

  “Monday?” Judith echoed. “Won’t Renie and I be back by then?”

  “Well . . .” Vance paused to nudge Vince, whose face was getting dangerously close to his coffee mug. “Knowing you, somebody on the island might get killed over this fracas and you’ll want to stick around to figure out whodunit.”

  “That’s not funny!” Judith cried. “I’ve retired from doing that.”

  “Oh, hell,” Vance said, standing up and hauling Vince to his feet, “half of the people who live there are retired. You’ll fit right in. You sure you want two gallons of clams?”

  Judith had also gotten to her feet. “Oh . . . maybe just one. I suppose Renie and I could dig our own. It’d help pass the time. Of course she may not come with me. She’s working on some annual reports. Are you going to see her now?”

  “Right.” Vance dragged Vince down the back hall. “She’ll come. She can always work on them at our place. She just draws a bunch of stuff anyway. How hard is that, unless she busts all her crayons?”

  “It’s a lot more complicated than—”

  “By the way,” Vance broke in, “I made my beef noodle bake, so your dinner’s ready to heat. I baked ginger snaps and made Grandma Grover’s coffee cake. Oh—I made a boysenberry pie, too. You won’t starve.”

  “Thanks,” Judith said, feeling overwhelmed. “You didn’t need to—”

  But Vince interrupted, his pleasant face wearing the familiar worried look that was only noticeable when he was fully conscious. “Don’t take my boat out. It gets real choppy out there in January.”

  Vance glared at her husband. “You think dead calm is choppy. That wreck of a boat hasn’t been out in six years.”

  “It just needs a bit of work,” Vince murmured. “Good to see you, Judith. Have fun on The Rock. Stay warm and dry.”

  “Thanks,” Judith replied. “We’ll try our best to do . . . both.”

  Vance laughed. “Did I ever tell you we were married for three years before I realized Vince could talk? Let’s go,” she said, giving her husband another nudge. “You need to take a nap behind the wheel.”

  Judith watched the Webers walk away, arm in arm. Or maybe Vance was holding up Vince. It was hard to tell with her aunt and uncle.

  Renie called half an hour later. “Okay, so I caved. What is it about Auntie Vance that makes everybody do her bidding? Except maybe Aunt Ellen when she visits from Beatrice? They’re two of a kind. Sort of. Aunt Ellen always seems like she’s on speed.”

  “I know. Auntie Vance is an irresistible force. Both Grover sisters are . . . awesome. The brothers were never introverts. My father was the quietest of the bunch, but he certainly was immovable when he expressed his opinions.”

  “My dad was, too,” Renie said, “but in a droll, succinct sort of way. When he wasn’t cussing and throwing things, of course.”

  “You’re sure you can work on your projects at the island?”

  “Yes. My contribution is all smoke and mirrors. If I tell them my design concept conveys their message to shareholders or customers or wombats, they believe me. By now, I’ve got street cred. Those bozos in the corner offices don’t know a concept from a contraceptive. Well . . . they might know that, but you get what I’m saying.”

  “After spend
ing fifteen minutes with Auntie Vance, I’m not sure I get what I’m saying,” Judith admitted. “Okay. I’ll check the ferry schedule. I have one here for guests. I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow.”

  “Ten?” Renie shrieked. “I won’t be awake at ten. Make it eleven.”

  “Fine. If we have to wait in line for three ferries, it’s your fault.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk,” Renie said. “Oh, no! Mom’s calling me. Maybe Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince stopped off to give her some clams, too, and Mom knows we’re leaving town. You know what that means—I’ll get a dozen calls a day from her asking if I’ve been swept away by a tsunami or devoured by giant geoducks. Bye.” Renie hung up.

  Judith had no sooner put down the phone when Gertrude wheeled herself through the back door. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, putting on the brakes just short of running over her daughter’s left foot. “Have you made chowder yet? My lunch was kind of skimpy.”

  “I haven’t had time to clean the clams,” Judith said. “I was just about to do it. We’ll have chowder for dinner.”

  “Make enough for my lunch tomorrow, too,” Gertrude ordered, ignoring Sweetums, who was weaving in and out under the motorized wheelchair. “Or did Arlene and Carl get clams, too?”

  “They did,” Judith replied as Phyliss reappeared via the dining room. “Maybe she’ll bring theirs over here.”

  Phyliss wrinkled her nose. “Clams are ungodly. Did you ever hear of our Lord multiplying the loaves and the clams? He wouldn’t bother.”

  Gertrude took umbrage. “You ever hear about the nectar of God? That was clam nectar. Guess you never read the Bible.”

  Phyliss stiffened, clutching her cleaning rag as if she were trying to shred it. Or planning to wrap it around Gertrude’s neck. “You think I never read the Bible? Are you crazy? I read it every day. I never heard of any such thing. Or is that in your weird Catholic Bible?”

  Gertrude was undeterred. “That’s right. It’s what the apostles drank when they played bingo. Kept ’em really juiced.”

  Phyliss dropped the rag and put her hands over her ears. “Blasphemy! I won’t listen to another word!” She rushed back through the dining room, oblivious to Sweetums, who was right behind her.

  Gertrude laughed. “I know how to shut up that crazy old bat. You try to reason with her. Trust me, kiddo, it can’t be done.”

  “You shouldn’t tease Phyliss,” Judith said. “Someday she might really get mad and quit. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Gertrude was still chuckling. “I know what I can do with her—and that’s get her goat. Hey, at my age I need to have a little fun now and then. And yes, I do know it’s ‘nectar of the gods.’ One of those Greek myth things, if what’s left of my memory still works.”

  “Your memory works just fine when you want it to,” Judith said, picking up the rag that Phyliss had dropped. “I suppose you’re looking forward to having Carl and Arlene here.”

  “You bet. They treat me right.”

  Judith looked down at her mother. “And I don’t?”

  “That depends,” Gertrude replied. “Are we playing bridge tonight?”

  “I have to ask Renie and Aunt Deb if they can come.”

  “As annoying as Deb can be, she’s not as lippy as Vance. As for my dingbat niece, she’s a decent cardplayer, but don’t tell her I said that. Fact is, compared to Serena, you’re kind of mealy-mouthed. You may look like me, but she speaks her mind more like I do. Don’t tell her that either. She might get swellheaded.”

  “I won’t,” Judith promised.

  “Okay.” Gertrude revved up her wheelchair. “In that case, I’ll go back to my so-called cardboard box of an apartment and start marking the cards. See you in the funny papers.” She rolled off, just as Sweetums meandered out of the dining room before streaking through the kitchen and down the hall.

  Two of a kind, her mother and the cat. Both were old and ornery, but still lovable.

  There was no bridge game that Thursday night. Judith ended up with an unexpected party of four at the last minute. Two couples from Santa Barbara had arrived at a B&B across the ship canal only to discover there was a power outage in the neighborhood and no word on how long it would last.

  Meanwhile, Renie had flat-out rejected the cardplaying get-together because she wanted to finish another annual report project before leaving town. Aunt Deb couldn’t make it because some old friends had dropped in unexpectedly from the eastern part of the state and stayed on for dinner. Gertrude was disappointed, but Judith consoled her by promising to bring back some of her favorite chocolates from the candy store on Whoopee Island.

  By the time Judith had taken care of her guests’ needs, made dinner, consulted with the Rankerses, played three games of cribbage with Gertrude, checked her larder, packed a suitcase, discovered Sweetums hiding under the kitchen sink, and listened to her mother’s lecture about not picking up sailors on the island, it was going on midnight. She dragged herself up to bed, but couldn’t settle down. She wondered if Joe and Bill had arrived in Auckland. Trying to figure out the time changes finally put her to sleep.

  Morning came too soon. Routine was the only thing that got Judith through serving breakfast. She put herself on autopilot, wearing a smile she hoped didn’t look like it belonged to a robot and praying that her natural empathy for people would come through. Apparently, it did. The guests all seemed cheerful—except Jack Larrabee, of course.

  Arlene arrived just after ten thirty. “You told me you wanted to leave before eleven,” she said, slipping out of her all-weather jacket. “Have the departing guests checked out?”

  “All but a reporter named Larrabee who should be coming down shortly,” Judith replied. “He’s moving on up north today.”

  “How far north?” Arlene inquired, looking suspicious.

  “Uh . . . I’m not sure, but eventually he’ll go to a couple of cities in British Columbia. He’s writing a newspaper series for people who want to visit our part of the world.”

  Arlene’s blue eyes danced. “Wonderful! I love to see the tourists come to town. I always tell them this is the best city to visit while they’re on vacation. Did you tell him about the recent measles epidemic?”

  “Darn. I left that out. You’ll get your chance with him. Don’t forget the bicyclists who think they own the streets, yet ignore traffic laws.”

  Arlene nodded. “The two-wheeled assassins. Yes, I could hardly omit them. What about the tolls on the floating bridge? When the bridges don’t sink, of course.”

  “I forgot that, too. You’re going to have quite a list.”

  Arlene’s pretty face lit up. “Oh, I can think of so many things! Most of our streets have lumps, potholes, and cracks. Those huge cranes that occasionally collapse at all the construction sites, the dangerous old viaduct, the changes with no warning when a one-way street suddenly becomes a two-way . . . Goodness, I could go on forever.”

  Judith gripped Arlene’s shoulder. “If anybody can do it, you can. I’m going now.”

  “Just hope the ferry doesn’t run into a smaller boat or go aground . . . again,” Arlene called after her. “Have a wonderful trip!”

  Judith felt more alert after driving her Subaru over the top of the hill and halfway down the north side to Renie’s house. She honked twice in front of the Joneses’ Dutch colonial. And waited. She honked again. Another minute passed before she decided to see if knocking would rouse her cousin. But as Judith started to turn off the ignition, Renie staggered onto the porch, managed to let the storm door slam her halfway back inside, cussed a blue streak, dropped her keys, and scrambled around to pick them up by the milk box. When she finally fell into the passenger seat, she was panting.

  “Stupid mornings,” she muttered. “I hate them. They come too damned early.”

  Judith waited to speak until they were crossing the old stone bridge above the gully. “Have you heard from Bill yet?” she asked.

  “Bill who?” Re
nie growled.

  “Your husband.”

  “Are you kidding? He hates the phone. What’s wrong with this seat belt? It’s busted.”

  Judith braked at the six-way stop before making the loop to the main drag that led to the freeway. “You’re putting it in backward.”

  “Oh.” Renie finally clicked herself in. “What about Joe?”

  “Nothing yet. Maybe they’ll wait until they get to the fishing resort. What took you so long to come to the door?”

  “I had to say good-bye to Oscar. He’s miffed because he didn’t get to go to New Zealand. Frankly, he’s not a good traveler. Bill decided not to take him anywhere after we went to Vegas and he had Oscar sit next to him at the blackjack table. The little twerp wouldn’t let go of the silver dollar Bill gave him. It caused quite a scene when—”

  “Stop. Please. I was just getting into a good mood for a change. I don’t want to hear any more anecdotes about your stuffed ape.”

  Renie folded her arms across her chest and pouted briefly. “You might at least ask about Clarence.”

  “Okay,” Judith agreed. “He’s a real live animal. Who’s caring for your bunny?”

  “A De Rosario grandkid from around the corner. Clarence is fairly self-sufficient. He puts himself to bed at night, you know.”

  “Very clever of him,” Judith allowed for the sake of peace while she maneuvered into a steady stream of northbound traffic.

  The cousins both were silent until they reached the freeway. Judith had thought it best to allow time for Renie to regain complete consciousness. Otherwise, they might get into an argument that would set the trip off on a wrong note.

  It was Renie who finally spoke while Judith maneuvered around heavy northbound traffic. “I’m not sure I understood the issue with the homeowners at Obsession Shores. Is it a vote on whether or not to put in a sewer system instead of septic tanks?”

  “That sounds right to me,” Judith agreed. “Of course there are probably some personality clashes involved.”

  “We’ve met a couple of the neighbors over the years,” Renie said. “Dick and Jane Sedgewick come to mind. Did Auntie Vance mention them?”