Crescent Hill

by Jackie Wang

  Maggie nodded and sighed.

  “Medicinal?”

  She shook her head. “Recreational. You won’t tell, will you? She’s eighty-one. It’s her only vice.”

  I burst out laughing. “I’ve never seen an eighty-one-year-old woman roll a joint with such expertise. Kudos to you, Rita. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  Rita winked at me, “Carl, honey, I’ll teach you if you want to learn.” Then she took a deep drag and bliss washed over her furrowed face. “You just say the word, I’ve got plenty to go around.”

  I shook my head. “No. But thank you.”

  Rita shrugged and took another drag. “Suit yourself.”

  Chapter 9

  Once we left Rita’s cabin, Maggie said, “Now do you know why Mom didn’t want you to visit?”

  “Rita’s—quite the character,” I said. “I like her. She seems like a no-nonsense type of gal.”

  “She was officially diagnosed with dementia two years ago,” Maggie explained. “But her mood and memory have been in decline ever since Grandpa passed.”

  “Is there any treatment?”

  “There are some medications out there, but she won’t take them. Won’t even try them. She says she’s about to kick the bucket any day now, so it’d be pointless to waste time and money on pills. She doesn’t even like visiting the doctors, and practically faints at the sight of blood.”

  “Has she always lived there?” I nodded to the old cabin, which was smothered in moss and hoar frost. From where we stood now, it resembled a shaggy Sasquatch. A wet, mildew scent clung to the air.

  “No. We moved her here after she was diagnosed. She stayed at the lodge for a while, but then she’d always pick fights with the guests, and the whole family had too many arguments. She insisted on moving out to the cabin. She has a nurse come in during the evenings to make sure she’s eating and taking care of herself. I check in on her every day. Keep her company. All her friends are dead or dying. She doesn’t have anyone else. She used to be in assisted living in Northbridge. Mom and Dad wanted to bring her closer, to keep an eye on her.”

  “I see. But this…cabin. It’s in terrible condition.”

  Maggie scrubbed her face. “I know. It’s awful. Grammy’s cheap as hell, though. She refuses to spend, or let anyone spend, a dime fixing up her home. The exterior looks like shit, I know. But the inside’s not so bad.”

  “Wow.” I sighed. “Sounds like she’s as stubborn as the rest of the family.”

  Maggie nodded. She dug the toe-end of her boot into the snow and kicked it. “So, you probably have some questions for me, huh?” Maggie said, looking down at her feet.

  “I won’t pry if you don’t want to share. Though I can’t deny that I’m curious.” Maggie walked deeper into the forest, and I followed her, my eyes trained on the ground in case I accidentally tripped over a tree root or branch.

  Maggie sighed, leaning against a tree trunk. “There’s not much to it. Carl Hennessy was my high school boyfriend. First love. Knocked me up when I was seventeen, then moved to New York for art school and left me with the baby. He never came back. I was struggling to find a job, and couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. So, I stayed on the island, and lived in my parents’ basement. They gave me shit every single day about being a single mother. My mother was hysterical, even though she loved Greg with all her heart. Dad called me a failure, said I was doomed. Things only got worse when I went to college in Northbridge. There, I met Thomas Richter. Thought he was the one, even though we only dated for seven months. Long story short, I had my youngest, Jason, when I was twenty-two. Thomas cheated on me and ran off with his new fling to L.A. I dropped out of college to work full-time at the hotel, and never stopped.”

  “Wow.” What else could I possibly say? It was a lot to take in.

  “Go ahead, judge me,” Maggie said, shrugging. “I’m used to it.”

  “You’re incredible. Raising two sons on your own? That’s impressive,” I said.

  “Not impressive,” Maggie said. “I’m just paying for my mistakes. And stupidity.”

  “I’d hardly call your children mistakes.”

  “No, not my kids—God no. I love them more than anything. I meant their fathers. Carl and Thomas…they were mistakes.”

  “No, Maggie, I don’t see it that way at all. You’ve been blessed with two sons—no, three?”

  “Adam…isn’t—wasn’t my son,” Maggie said, running a hand through her hair.

  “Oh.” After a pause, I continued, “Well, your kids’ fathers might’ve been bastards, but their mother is an angel, so it balances out, don’t you think?”

  “I’m no angel, Roman.” Maggie arched her brows. After a pause, she said, “Is this pity or compassion? I can’t tell with you.”

  “I respect your decision to keep and rear your children. Many young mothers don’t show the courage you showed. They might’ve chosen abortion or adoption, but you didn’t.”

  Maggie scoffed. “Don’t paint me as a saint just yet, Roman Finnegan. I wanted to give Greg up for adoption. I was just a teenager, for God’s sake. I panicked. But Mom said, and I quote, ‘Over my dead body’.” Then in a more nasally voice, Maggie mocked Mercy’s voice, “That’s not the Christian way, Magnolia. How dare you turn your back on Jesus and his teachings?”

  I rested a hand on Maggie’s shoulders. “Either way, Maggie, I think it’s great that you have two sons.”

  I’d always thought, that when I found the right woman, I’d like two sons and a daughter. Even though I wasn’t the greatest with children, I loved them. They were so innocent, but smart and imaginative too.

  “You don’t think I’m a tramp?” Maggie asked, using my own words against me. “Or a loser? I mean, one man, maybe, but two…”

  “They’re the irresponsible jackasses, not you. You stuck around. You’re doing the adult thing,” I reassured her. “So no, I don’t think you’re a tramp, or a loser.”

  Maggie stopped at the edge of a small cliff, bordered by mossy boulders and barren trees. Partially melted snow made the ground spongy and wet. Maggie pointed to the panoramic view up ahead. “This is what I wanted to show you, Roman.”

  I sucked in air. “Holy shit, this view is stunning!” Before us lay a sprawling vista of unparalleled beauty. Tens of thousands of cedar trees crowded the distant peninsula, their snowy tips a volley of arrows dotting a crystalline panorama. Frothing waves churned against endless, rocky beaches, and humongous seagulls circled overhead, swooping and diving with grace. But the most breathtaking part of all was our unobstructed view of the frosted mountain ranges, whose twin peaks broke through the mists and aimed for the heavens. Those icy marvels of nature belied an imperial dignity, and their aged contours humbled me.

  “It’s a bit of a hike from the hotel, but it’s one of the prettiest views on the island.” Maggie beamed, slightly out of breath. Her lips were parted, glossy, and damn kissable. Such a breath-taking view, coupled with such breathtaking company, made my heart swirl with yearning. So what if we were working together? So what if she was the hotel manager and the owners’ daughter? A chance like this, with a woman like her, came far and few between.

  “Pretty doesn’t do it justice,” I said. “It’s magnificent.” And so are you, I wanted to add.

  We spent the next few minutes in silence as I took in every detail and locked it away in my memories. The sharp air smelled of pine and earth, an invigorating combination. I could almost taste the forest against my tongue; sticky with sap and exploding with life.

  “This needs to be featured in your lodge brochure,” I said, gesturing to the view. “Everyone needs to know about this place.”

  “It’s called Vernon’s Bluff. Mom won’t let us put it in there,” Maggie said, turning away from the mountains. Her features were steeped with—what was it—regret? Sorrow? Pain? I could almost see her shutting down again. Pulling away. Resisting me. Resenting herself even, for opening up to me. “All of this is p
rivate property, and off-limits to visitors.”

  “But, tourists would love this place.” I looked up at the towering trees around us. Everything was so beautiful I didn’t even mind that my trousers and socks were soaked. Or that I couldn’t feel my toes anymore. None of that mattered because I found the gem that would change everything. This bluff would put Crescent Hill back on the map, no doubt about it. “Why won’t your mum tell people about this place?”

  “Because…Because of Adam,” Maggie said, crouching down and folding into herself. Maggie’s hair fell past her face, and I couldn’t make out her expression. But her body language told all. Something terrible had happened here, and she was trying not to relive it.

  I rested a hand on Maggie’s sharp shoulder blades, which felt like knives jutting out of her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Maggie shook her head and buried it in her crossed arms. “Not today, Roman,” she said in a hoarse and broken whisper.

  I rubbed circles on her back. “That’s okay. Take your time.”

  Maggie’s body began shaking as sobs unexpectedly consumed her. She sounded like a wounded animal. Between hiccups and gulping down tears, Maggie said, “We’ll never fix this hotel.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because Mom is insane, Dad has given up hope, and Jesse and Caitlyn are incompetent freeloaders.”

  “That’s quite a negative outlook you have on your family. Don’t give up just yet, Maggie. I’m here to help,” I emphasized.

  “You’re here for two weeks,” Maggie choked out. “Our family problems…they run years deep. You’ll never plumb the depths of our complicated history. You won’t even scratch the surface.”

  I stood up and flexed my chest. “I scratched the surface today. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll start digging.”

  “Mom won’t let you dig. She’ll clam up, and she won’t accept your suggestions, I guarantee it.”

  “Well then, I’ll need your help to convince her.” I held out my hand. “C’mon, let’s head back.”

  Maggie took my hand and pulled herself up. “We’re a waste of your time, Roman. We’re a broken family. A scratched record that just keeps skipping.”

  “Every family has its fair share of problems,” I said. “My dad left when I was eight. Popped out for a beer on Christmas Eve and never came back. My sister, Amelia, was married to an abusive drunk for ten years. Harold promised he’d get better after Izzy was born, but never did. My grandmum, though she doesn’t smoke marijuana like yours, is a millionaire kleptomaniac. She has over two million pounds in the bank, but still feels the need to steal loaves of bread and candy bars from the supermarket.” I gripped both of Maggie’s shoulders. “There’s no such thing as normal where family is concerned.”

  Chapter 10

  When we made it back to the hotel, Mercy, Langston, Jesse, and Caitlyn were chatting in the foyer. I looked up and realized that true to his word, Langston had removed all the taxidermy animals from their mounts. Now the barren walls were riddled with holes, and the Summers family looked nervous.

  “Morning, everyone,” I said.

  They all nodded and stood up a little straighter. Jesse cleared his throat.

  “I see the taxidermy heads are gone,” I said to Langston. “Thank you for following my advice. I appreciate that.” I turned to Caitlyn. “What about that kitchen?”

  “I’ll get the servers and sous-chefs to clean it tomorrow morning,” Caitlyn said. “That’s what we pay them for.”

  “You pay them to cook and serve in the restaurant. Everyone needs to help with the cleaning. All of you. Many hands make light work.”

  “But I just got a manicure two days ago,” Caitlyn protested.

  “And I’m sick of cleaning up after Bob’s messes,” Jesse added. “We’re here to manage the restaurant, not clean it.”

  Maggie folded her arms across her chest. “Caitlyn, the only reason you can afford a manicure is because my parents pay you a salary you don’t deserve. And Jesse, when will you stop being such a stuck-up?”

  “Now, now, Maggie, that’s not true,” Langston said.

  “So, what does Caitlyn do to deserve her pay?” Maggie asked.

  “She runs the restaurant with your brother, and helps with the paperwork and accounting side of things,” Mercy said. “Don’t be rude. That’s not how we raised you.”

  “Manicure or not, Caitlyn, you will help clean the kitchen,” I said. “And Langston, you need to figure out a way to categorize and label the food in your walk-in freezer. It’s a disaster zone in there.”

  I turned to Maggie and Mercy. “You two need to focus on housekeeping. I want to host a grand re-opening in ten days. But before that happens, we need to do some serious tidying up around here. No bug corpses or dust mites in any of the rooms, all right?”

  Maggie nodded. “I’ll be more thorough,” she promised. “And I’ll let the others know as well.”

  “This lodge is the Summers family legacy. You need to work together as a family to revitalize this business. No complaining about who has or hasn’t done this or that. You’re in it together.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Mercy said. “Thank you, Roman. You’ve been very encouraging.”

  I clapped my hands together. “Now get to work, everyone.”

  After the family parted ways and attended to their responsibilities, I drew up a new menu and printed out enough copies of the recipes for all the kitchen staff. I also made a restaurant code of conduct and posted it in the hallway. Then, I asked Caitlyn to see the bookkeeping.

  “Do you doubt my bookkeeping skills?” she asked. “I went to Dartmouth, you know.” Her hair was scraped back into a high ponytail, and she was wearing massive yellow rubber gloves and goggles. You’d think she was cleaning up toxic waste, not a filthy kitchen.

  “Yeah, and I went to the Imperial College London, but I still make mistakes from time to time. It’s called being human.”

  Caitlyn shot me a disgusted look. “I don’t make mistakes. I’m meticulous about numbers. Jesse says I might even have mathematical OCD, if that’s a thing.”

  “I just want to get a sense of what went wrong with the business,” I explained.

  “No need to look at the books. I can tell you, it all happened five years ago, when Adam died,” Caitlyn said, scrubbing the stainless-steel sink. “After his funeral, everyone just shut down.”

  “Who is Adam?” I asked, trying to remain nonchalant about it.

  Maggie broke down crying before she could tell me. Daisy mentioned something about things going sour five years ago…perhaps Caitlyn would be more forthcoming about the truth.

  “Adam was—”

  Before Caitlyn could say more, Jesse and Langston walked in. Jesse snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and began scrubbing the stove while Langston asked me, “So, Roman, what do you think of my new system? Come here and look.”

  I gave Caitlyn a nod, as if to say we’d talk later. Then, I followed Langston to the walk-in freezer. Immediately I noticed that the shelves looked less cluttered. Langston created labels for each shelf, bucket, bag, and tray. Though his handwriting was chicken scratch, the space did look more organized. I peered into the nearest bucket and grimaced. “What the hell is in that?”

  “Chicken.”

  “What, just a bucket of chicken?” I asked. “Stacked in a bucket like that? Uncovered and right next to these veggies?”

  Langston shrugged. “I won’t cross-contaminate anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “Haven’t had one complaint about food poisoning here.” He smiled, as if he was proud of that fact.

  “All it takes is one incident. Then this restaurant gets shut down for good. You could kill somebody with raw chicken, Langston. This would never pass a health inspection. Heaven knows how you’ve stayed open all these years.”

  “It’s not like I’ll touch the chicken, then touch something else without washing my hands first,” Langston said, folding h
is arms. The grooves framing his austere mouth deepened into a frown. “I’m not stupid.”

  “You need to wrap each portion up individually and cover the container. Simple as that. It’ll save you from headaches and lawsuits in the future, I promise.”

  Langston sighed. “You’re never satisfied, are you? Gotta do everything ‘by the book’, do you?”

  I wanted to laugh. “I’m just trying to bring this kitchen up to the bare minimum of standards. I can’t, in good conscience, continue to help you, if your kitchen is dirtier than a whore’s knickers!”

  Damn it. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t lose my temper again, but Langston had the ability to get on my nerves like no one else.

  Langston dropped the Tupperware container he was holding, spilling lentils everywhere. “You’ve got some mouth on you, boy,” he seethed, veins popping out of his neck.

  “Get used to it,” I ground out, leaving Langston to clean up his own mess.

  I had no sympathy for this man, whose ego ran this place to the ground. I’d treat him with more respect when he’d earned it. Right now, he acted like a little boy who had his toy taken away from him. Tantrums didn’t work with me, even if they came from someone old enough to be my father.

  After I had left Langston, Jesse, and Caitlyn to finish cleaning up the kitchen, I went upstairs to check on Mercy and Maggie.

  I flashed the sunniest smile I could. “How’s it looking, ladies?”

  “I keep telling Mom that we need new bedsheets, but she thinks it’s okay if we just patch them up!” Maggie cried, her arms flying. “She thinks no one will notice.”

  “Mercy, do you think that’s right?” I asked, frowning. I’d been frowning so much since I’d stepped foot here, that by the time I left, I would no doubt have gained several new wrinkles.

  Mercy held out her hand, as if to stop me from coming closer. “Oh, don’t you start, Roman. Each set costs a couple hundred dollars. If we had to replace every one that had a small tear in it, we’d be looking at thousands of dollars. Thousands we don’t have! It’s not being cheap, it’s about doing what I can with what I have.” Mercy’s left hand gripped the corner of a bed sheet, which she was patching up.