“Since,” Ruby adds, ignoring my last comment, “Larry seems to not know the identity of Eve’s biological father, it’s up to us and hopefully Eve’s Aunt Vivian—to find him.”
“Wow,” Howard says, raking a hand through his silver mane. “And you had no idea?”
“My dad was always very, well, he was remote and at the university most of the time, and when he was home, oh, I don’t know…”
“I’ve left a message with Vivian,” Ruby says. “Apparently she and Eve’s mum were chummy. Perhaps she’ll know who this man was. But really”—Ruby’s voice becomes gentle—“does it really matter? I mean, darling, look around you. Look at all you’ve created and the wonderful life we have and—such lovely friends.”
I nod my head as a single tear slips down my cheek.
Then, in a flurry of color and more noise than you can imagine, Rocky flies into the room with a squirming rat hanging from his mouth! He rushes over and flops it down in the middle of our circle. This is really a huge rat. We’re dashing all over, jumping up on chairs and calling Rocky any number of nasty names. Howard chases after the rat as it scurries into the bathroom. Seconds later we hear the flush of the toilet.
He comes back into the front room with a satisfied look on his face. “Anyone need to use the potty?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I’m up on a ladder in the living room, trying to figure out how in the world this bobcat is attached to the rafter. Since it’s snowing like mad outside, we’ve decided to take down most (hopefully all) of the stuffed animals that have graced the living room walls, rafters and ceiling of the cottage for years. Too many, if you ask me.
“Do be careful, darling,” Ruby cautions from down below. “I’ve never understood the concept of taxidermy. Of course, Wisconsin had a fellow who enjoyed making lampshades out of human body parts. Imagine.”
“Hand me that hammer,” I say. “Thanks…this thing is covered with dust—good God—whoever put it up here—there—got it. Watch out below!”
The dusty, spiderweb-coated bobcat, frozen forever in a “leaping lightly” pose, lands with a thud onto the growing pile of ancient animal parts. We’ve decided they all have to go. We offered them to the boys, but they said, “No way, sister!” Sam and Lilly just raised their respective eyebrows and suggested a nice big fire. Even the local museum in LaPointe already has too many stuffed things, so off to the barn with them.
“We’re nearly done,” Ruby says, not a lick of dust on her.
I come down the ladder, bend way over and shake my curls over the pile. Then I pick a rather long black hair off my lips, ugh.
“You know,” I say knowingly, “while we’re into this, would you consider packing up the relatives?” I point to the line of framed pictures that start at one end of the room and circle around and then march up the wall along the stairs and continue on down the hallway. We’re talking a lot of pictures here.
“I’ve looked at them for so awfully long, I no longer even see them.” She heads over to have a look at one. “I never considered, but why in the world keep them up, looking at us this way and that, why…none of these are even from this century! And not a one is of anyone related to me, and certainly not you. Oh, this is what’s needed here.” She reaches up and begins taking them down, handing them to me, of course.
“I’m feeling a little guilty, though.” I set down a stack and return to Ruby’s side. “These are the history of this cottage and—”
“Don’t you jolly well think,” Ruby says with zest, “that perhaps it’s time we put up pictures of our history, hmm?”
“I—well—you know…we’ve got all sorts of shots from our apron business, what with the stuff on the website from that parade, and I do have some stuff of my folks.”
“Those are what belong on these walls.” Ruby sneezes so hard she drops the framed picture she was about to hand to me, and it smashes into a million pieces. “Oh drat. What a klutz I am.”
“That’s odd.” I pull the big black-and-white picture from the broken shards and look at it closer. “I recognize Gustave and Adeline sitting in what looks like some kind of a club, but look behind them—in between all the tables is our cabaña bar, and aren’t the lamps on the tables like—”
“Give me that.” Ruby takes the picture from me, puts her bifocals on and peers into it. Then she looks around. “This is rather odd, and I hadn’t noticed how we have so many of the same lamps about—not that that’s odd, I should think—who doesn’t have several of the same lamp, for heaven’s sake.”
“True, but these look…” I move to an end table and study the stylish lamp with its elaborate stained-glass shade. I click it on. Among lily pads and cattail are the very same smiling toad as the one down at the end of the hallway.
“There’s five in here,” I say, perplexed. “I’ve got one next to my bed and I know there’s a couple in the library and—”
“I have two on either side of my bed as well.” Ruby comes over next to me. “I’ve simply not taken notice, can you imagine?”
I turn the lamp this way and that. “These things are heavy; look, there’s a tiny plaque in the back way down on the bottom of the base here.” We both squat down to have a look. “It’s like a nameplate or—” I give it a good rubbing. “Toad Tea Tavern.”
“There’s something odd about this photo.” Ruby stands and holds the picture up to the light. “Why, look—I can see the outline of something, perhaps a map or…”
I look up; the back of the photo is facing me. “You’d make a great detective—turn the damn thing over!”
She does and then gasps. “I’ll be—a map!”
“We really need to dress warm,” I caution. “Wish we could enclose the duck somehow.” I pull on a second sweater and then take my coat down from the back of the door in the kitchen.
“We only need to mention it to Sam and Lilly and I should think they’ll think of something,” Ruby says, cinching her tailored camel coat tight and then pulling on a fluffy hat with matching gloves. “Good thing Howard was able to figure out the heater in there, though.”
“I believe it was Sam who figured it out. Bye, Rocky.”
We each give him a good scratch before making a dash for the barn. I hit the big green button and the huge doors envelope into each other. I hop in and pull the duck out while Ruby waits for me to clear the door, then she climbs up the ladder and plops down beside me. I head us down the sloping hill, passing by the boathouse and out onto the lake we go.
“Should have some heat in a second here,” I say. “How about finding a good station on this thing.”
Ruby turns the stereo on, and since it’s way loud from my being in here last time, we both yelp due to the blaring static that shoots out and then chuckle. I like it loud sometimes. She finds our favorite public radio station: WPR, Wisconsin Public Radio.
“I can’t believe it,” I say in disbelief. “It’s that Garrison Keillor singing again!”
“I should hardly call that singing. Good heavens—I can do better.” I shoot her a doubtful look. “Smart alec—how ’bout this.” She shoves in a tape and the group called Aria gushes their operatic jazz out of the speakers. “Much better.” Ruby snaps open her purse and checks her perfect lips in a little mirror.
“Ah, the heat has arrived,” I announce and tap the horn twice. “Look—don’t we know that guy over there?”
There’s a bearded man carrying a ladder along the shore in front of his enormous “home,” more of a lodge. Some of the places out here are so big it’s laughable. The sad thing is that most of them stand empty nine months out of the year.
“Can’t recall his name.” Ruby gives him a wave. “I believe he runs a business from his cottage; Northwestern Coffee or some such name, handsome fellow.”
“Strange business to be operating out here.”
“And aprons are normal?”
“I guess—hey, did you bring the address of the place selling Christmas trees? I forgot to grab it
. Sam said they have some beauties and I want to get garlands for the banister and should we have a tree for the boathouse, too?”
“Well of course, darling. It’ll be lovely. You know, I haven’t the slightest idea of what to get you for Christmas.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Ruby, are you crazy? I have everything I need—’cept…”
“I’m all ears.”
“I would kill for a—smoke,” I offer and could kick myself for admitting it, but God, I miss that cancer-causing stuff. I do! (Pathetic, huh.)
“Well, why wait ’til Christmas then, eh?” Faster than you can say “black lung,” she’s pulled out two cigarettes from her slim silver case, lit them and placed one between my lips.
“You little…” I inhale and feel that…hate to admit this, but it’s such a comforting buzz. “How long have you been—never mind, how ’bout taking those Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups out of the ashtray; no sense in ashing all over good chocolate.”
“None I can see.” Ruby pops open the huge mega ashtray and there are the two butts I left there. Oh shit, busted. Ruby lifts one up, observing the bright red lipstick mark.
“You horrid little sneak.”
“I, um…oh hell.”
Ruby tilts her head back and belts out a good cackle and then I do the same. I put the duck in neutral until the tears stop.
“Damn that felt good.” I check my eyes in Ruby’s little mirror. “Now let’s get over to Bayfield.” I slip the duck into gear and once again—we’re off!
“I left a message with the boys.” Ruby raises her voice over the roar of the motor. “I let them know just a bit of our map discovery. I’m sure they’ll be eager to join us.”
“That old place sure has a lot of secrets—hey—did you get ahold of Auntie Vivian?”
“I’ve not known quite how to approach this, darling,” Ruby offers and my stomach takes a lurch. “But since I know you prefer things…straight up, as you say, well…she’s in a nursing home and I’m not so sure she knows, well, that she’s even in a nursing home.”
“Damn it all to hell!” I smack the steering wheel and accidentally hit the horn again. We’re just passing a ferry so about twenty people wave to us. If this were summer, there’d be more like a hundred or so riding over.
“Wave and smile, darling.”
We wave and zoom on by to the City Marina. Bayfield has taken on a storybook feeling, what with all the snow and the decorations hanging from each and every lamppost. The town really does a nice job in the decorating department, even though there aren’t too many people around to admire it.
“Head over to Maggie’s,” Ruby suggests. “The Christmas trees are being sold across the street from the restaurant, where the farmers’ market is all summer long.”
“Sure.” I swing the duck on down Manypenny Avenue. “After we get all our trimmings and trees and all, how about you buying me lunch?”
“Would be my pleasure—well, I suppose it will be your pleasure, seeing as you’re lunching with the likes of me.”
I shake my head. “Look at all those beautiful trees,” I say, parking on a little side street. “Let’s get us some Christmas!”
There’s holiday music blasting out of huge speakers hanging off the side of a tiny yellow trailer surrounded by a forest of trees in all shapes and sizes. The smell is wonderful, all piney, mixed with smoke from nearby fireplaces. A tall, bearded man approaches us. He’s dressed in a red-and-black checked coat, and a pipe rests in the corner of his generous mouth, giving him a very sporty look.
Grinning, he says, “Afternoon, ladies.” He lifts his captain-style cap slightly. “Know what kind of tree yur lookin’ for or would you enjoy a tour?” His blue eyes twinkle.
“Oh, we want the tour,” I offer. Ruby rolls her eyes. “’Course, not if it costs extra.”
“Don’t cost a thing. Follow me…now these trees right here are your white pine—soft needles and lots of room for ornaments; this here is a balsam fir; these all along this aisle are Scotch pine—kind of an old-fashioned-looking tree, if you ask me. This row’s Douglas fir with some Fraser fir on the end there, I’ve also got ten-and twenty-foot garlands, compliments of yours truly, and wreaths from the standard two-foot diameter on up to ten, or I can make one as large as you might need, say, for over your fireplace, if you have one, that is.”
“We’ve got a huge one, and boy, does it heat things up.” I’m the one heating up here.
“Nothing more inviting than a fire,” he adds and looks really deeply into my eyes.
Are my knees knocking or are we having an earthquake? What is it about men who are a little on the rough side? He’s probably one of those fixer-upper types.
“We’ll just poke around and let you know when we’ve made up our minds.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he says and then ambles off to chat with another couple.
“Eve Moss, your horns are showing.”
I absently reach up to my hair, think better of it and give Ruby a smack on her shoulder. “Let’s find some trees.”
Ruby lights up and offers me one. “I wonder what Sam’s going to say when she finds out I’ve gone and forced this wretched habit on the both of us.”
“She’ll ask to bum one. Now c’mon.”
We’re seated in a cozy booth inside the warmth of Maggie’s restaurant. Our waitress has just plunked down two mugs of hot coffee and menus.
“I simply can’t get over that tree man,” Ruby repeats. “I don’t recall ever seeing you so flustered—it was marvelous.”
“Even though the guy’s so tall—and I’m not partial to beards—but damn he’s fine.”
“Perhaps we should have taken him up on his offer to deliver.” Ruby blows her coffee and smiles like the devil. “I found him terribly charming.”
“How about looking at your menu already, huh?”
He is the first guy I’ve felt like this about, you know, like you can’t breathe and your heartbeat is all crazy and the old fire starts to crackle. God, I’m not dead after all. Hmm.
“Let’s order these Garlic Polenta Fries for starters,” Ruby suggests. “Then I’m going to give their Spicy Thai Noodles a try and perhaps even splurge and order some of this Mexican Tortilla Soup—sounds divine. What a lovely menu.”
“You are hungry and all you did was point out there.”
“Takes a great deal of know-how to choose just the right tree, you know, darling. I didn’t mean to be so darn picky—having that delicious man turn so many trees this way and that, but you must admit, he did it with such a jolly smile and didn’t seem to notice me one bit.”
“I’m going for their Flamingo Chicken Sandwich, a bowl of the soup you’re ordering and maybe a Mixed Baby Greens Salad and the tree man for dessert,” I add and we giggle and then clink our coffee mugs.
“I truly am sorry about Vivian, darling. Pity, the poor dear hasn’t a clue any longer. I spoke with her attendant briefly, telling her a tiny white lie—me being a relative from abroad and all. Perhaps there’s someone else we could ask?”
“No.” I think for a moment. “Dad made it pretty clear Mom kept it a secret. I mean she didn’t even tell him, for God’s sake. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him.”
“Does seem such a burden…yet, you know, it’s perhaps not all that unusual. I mean, if you consider it more or less an adoption—what am I saying—your mum had an affair and perhaps your father was the reason, does it matter? I mean, I suppose it would be nice to know just exactly who your real father is, but if you can’t, well, I hope you’re prepared for that.”
“I am, I am,” I sigh heavily. “Helen’s going to think I’m nuts. Here I hauled her all the way to Altoona to meet a man I always thought was my dad and he never was, not really anyway.”
“I’d say, darling, we do the best we can with what’s in front of us and he was your father for all practical purposes, after all.”
The waitress sets our artfully garnished plates down in front
of us.
“I’m going to do better than the best with this.” I slurp a spoonful of soup. “Oh my God, this is so best.”
“Smart alec. You choke over there and you’re on your own.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On my cue, Ruby turns down Barbra Streisand belting out “White Christmas.”
“Since today is a non-yoga-bellydance day,” I announce to the sewing crew, “and we’re totally caught up on our orders”—I look over to Howard and he nods in agreement—“we have a little adventure in mind.”
“Don’t you have a little confessing,” Sam suggests dryly, then laughs. “Not that I been all smoke-free myself.”
“I—ah—” I am so busted here. “Well, hell—we couldn’t take it any longer, and yes, Ruby and I are once again—lighting up.” I say “lighting up” really softly; how embarrassing.
“I’m really trying to quit for good,” Lilly says, lifting her sleeve. “I’m sick to death of chewing that gum and now I suppose I’m just as addicted to this patch here, but shoot, my house never smelled better.”
“She’s got a point there,” Sam adds. “Now Eve honey, speaking of points, what’s this man with a beard I see coming at you?”
I turn a deep red. “He’s the man you told me about who sells Christmas trees and—”
“He’s got the best buns in town!” Lilly bursts out, and then covers her mouth. “Now where’d that come from?”
“Um-hmm.” Sam chuckles. “There’s no woman in or near Bayfield don’t know about him. He’s hot as tar on asphalt and him being married and a white man don’t seem to make a lick of difference far as I’m concerned either.” She chuckles, raises her eyebrows and then chuckles some more as this month’s Chippendale calendar stud is a very black man with a very huge—item.
“Howard and I,” Johnny says, “have only heard of the ‘tree stud.’ Now I know where we’re going to shop for ours.”
Wouldn’t you know? Married. Well, to be honest, it’s reassuring knowing the old juices are still heat-up-able, and really, when would I ever have time for…Who am I kidding here; it’s not “tree stud” that’s the issue here; it’s the simple realization that I sincerely don’t want a relationship. I suppose, if I were younger, sex would be more important, but now? Funny how things change; as you get wiser, I’m learning—that I have a lot to learn.
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