I snorted. We hadn’t even discussed this, because the idea of skiing at our age was unthinkable, at least to me. “You must be joking. At my age, I’d break my neck. You would, too. I hope you aren’t . . .”
“Maybe one lesson, on the bunny slope.”
“You don’t have any ski clothes.” I thought that would deter her. I should have known better, because Andrea is impossible to deter when she makes up her mind about something.
“I’ll wear my jeans, and my parka, of course. I brought some water repellent to spray on my jeans to keep them dry. I read somewhere that it’s a good idea. I think you should take a half-day lesson, too.”
“I’ll watch you.” I didn’t really mean this, because I intended to be inside somewhere warm during our entire visit to the valley.
Andrea always was the venturesome one in our family. She was daring enough to remain single and work her way through college. And she did this without any loans. College loans were unknown back then, at least they were to our family. She did receive a scholarship that paid her tuition for four years at the university. I did what young women in our small town usually did—I finished school and married my high school sweetheart. John died year before last, and ever since I seem to be involved in one of Andrea’s adventures. It occurs to me at times that she probably feels sorry for me and wants to put some excitement into my life.
“How about brunch? I see a McDonalds at the crossroads ahead. Traveling always makes me hungry.”
We wheeled into the parking lot and stopped at the curb. I knew without looking when I got out that the white lines defining our parking space would be the same distance from each side of the car. That’s Andrea. She’s a stickler for symmetry.
A young girl with spiked purple hair, a lip ring, and a sullen look took our order. No, I take that back, the part about the hair. I’d say it was more mauve than purple. We took our tray and sat near a window with a wonderful view of the parking lot. Andrea was the first to notice Asbury McGee as we ate our Egg McMuffins and drank orange juice. He sat in the corner and appeared to be having coffee. Andrea nodded to him. “I think that’s Asbury over there,” she said.
“You’re right. What’s he doing way out here?”
“Maybe he needs a ride somewhere.” Andrea beckoned for him to join us.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” I murmured as he approached. Asbury didn’t always smell good. I think people who live in big cities usually know only folks within their own narrow range on the social scale. When you live in a small town like Pine Summit, you get to know all kinds. And of course this isn’t all bad. It’s a broadening experience in itself.
I blinked in surprise as Asbury approached. He was clean and trimmed right down to his fingernails. Even his red plaid flannel shirt and jeans were spotless. He had on a pair of heavy-duty work boots that looked as if they’d been given a good coating of saddle soap to keep out moisture. He nodded and took off his baseball cap with the West Virginia Mountaineers logo. He hung his jean jacket on the back of the chair and set a plump plastic bag underneath.
“Sit down with us,” Andrea said. “Would you like something to eat?”
“No thanks, ma’am. I ate my breakfast and was just finishing my coffee.”
“Do you need a ride?” Andrea knew Asbury had no car, had never had a car, and probably never would have a car.
He turned his hat nervously in his hands. “Well, it depends on where you’re going. Did you ladies know I got married?”
“No!” We both said it at the same time, in the same astounded tone of voice.
“Married a lady from up in Pocahontas County.”
I wondered how far out of our way we’d have to go to give him a ride. “So you’re headed there now?”
“No, ma’am. I’m trying to get to the Canaan Valley.”
“We’re going there,” Andrea said. “We can give you a lift.”
“I’d appreciate it. Me and Ivy, we been working at a hotel there.”
I nodded. Asbury certainly was getting around these days. I couldn’t imagine him ever leaving Baxter County. “Which hotel is this?”
“The Alpenhof, they call it now. I think I’m saying that right, Alpenhof. Used to be the Valley Hotel, I hear tell.”
Andrea raised her eyebrows. I could see she was musing about the coincidence. “Yes, you’re saying it right. We’re going there, too.”
He nodded. “Lucky I run into you. I caught a ride with a fellow going through Pine Summit, but he turned off here. I was down there moving some stuff out of the little trailer I been renting. You know the old home place finally fell in. The roof just collapsed on me, so I rented a trailer that stands behind Cecil Anderson’s house. You know Cecil, don’t you? I did some yard work for him and got his wood split for the winter, and they fed me.
“I took my stuff over to my brother’s till I can get a way to move it to the house where Ivy and me live. That’s my wife. She was Ivy Hawkins, married to a Hawkins from down near Montgomery. He went to prison for manslaughter, and she divorced him. Not about to stay married to a jailbird, she wasn’t.”
Andrea nodded slowly. I could see by the look on her face she was giving some thought to Ivy’s taste in men. I was too, for that matter. We had finished breakfast, and Andrea took her purse from the empty seat. “Do you have a suitcase?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. Just my bag.” He brought the plastic grocery sack from under the seat where he had stowed it.
We were underway in minutes, with Asbury buckled in behind us. His fringe of downy white hair shone in the morning sun coming through the side window. “How long have you and your wife been working at the hotel?” I asked.
“Two weeks now. She cleans the rooms and I’m a general handyman. I’ll be in charge of the grounds, too, when summer gets here. Everything’s snowed under now. I try to help her with the cleaning when I can. When it snows real heavy, I clear off the parking lot. They say they’ve been real busy since the first snows came. Now that the holidays are over, it’s mostly on weekends that we get a lot of folks in.”
“You know Maggie, of course,” Andrea said.
“I sure do. She works behind the desk in the evening. She does something else during the day over at the ski place. She’s your niece, ain’t she?”
“Yes, she’s our brother’s daughter. He died last year, so it’s just the three of us left in the family—except for our cousin, Alice Marie, that is. But she’s a cousin from our mother’s side, from up on Four Mile. Maggie works at the hotel in the evenings and gives ski lessons during the day.”
Asbury shook his head. “Imagine strapping a couple of boards to your feet and sliding down a mountain.”
I could see he found the idea astounding. I thought about the team of mules he and his father used to hitch up for plowing their tiny hillside farm each spring. Life hadn’t been much fun for Asbury. I wondered about his wife, whether she was making life better for him. At least he smelled better. I had even caught a whiff of aftershave as I passed him when he was holding the door of the McDonalds for us.
“I’m going to try strapping a couple of boards to my feet and sliding down a mountain,” Andrea said.
Asbury chuckled. “You, ma’am?” It was obvious he thought Andrea should have better sense.
“Of course they’re not boards any more. Skis are made of fiberglass.”
Andrea must have been on the Internet again, researching skis. She’s never satisfied with skimming the surface of things; she likes to dig into them.
Asbury shifted in the seat and crossed his legs. “The owners of the hotel, they’re good skiers, I understand. I guess most of them foreigners are, with all the mountains they got over there.”
I nodded and turned to look at him. “What are the folks like who own the hotel?”
He thought about the question for a bit, and I could see he was trying to decide how to answer. After a couple of minutes, “Him, he’s okay. A big guy that works hard. He treats us al
l okay.”
“What about her?”
“That’s a whole different story. She’s…I won’t use the word in front of you ladies. She’s mean to us. Not when he’s around, but when she’s alone with us, she’s mean as a snake.”
“They’re husband and wife?” I asked.
“Brother and sister, Maggie says.”
Andrea shifted down to take a hairpin curve near the top of a hill. “How many employees does the hotel have?”
“Me and Ivy, and Maggie of course. The lady that owns it, she works the desk during the day. Ivy cleans, and I help her. And there’s David, of course. When he’s not in school, he helps his mom and me.”
“He must be Ivy’s son,” I said.
“That’s right. He’s thirteen and thinks he knows it all. I guess he’ll grow up some day.”
“And the owners?” I pressed on. “What are their names?”
“Lordy, miss, I couldn’t begin to tell you what their last name is. He asked us to call them Stefan and Olga. I guess he knows I’d never be able to pronounce the rest. You ask Maggie about their last name when you get there. Maggie’s got a college education. She understands them foreign names a lot better than I do. She’s one sharp young lady.” He reflected for a moment. “At least I hope she is. I hope she knows what she’s doing.”
Andrea slowed a bit. I could sense her ears perking up. “Maggie isn’t in any sort of trouble, is she?”
Asbury shrank into the back seat. He must be wondering if he said too much, I thought.
“No, it’s just that…don’t tell her I said so, but I think she’s sweet on the man there.”
“The one who owns the place?” I asked.
“That’s the one.”
“Would that be so bad?” Andrea asked.
“It would if you had a sister like this guy has,” he said. “She hasn’t said anything, at least not that I’ve heard, but I can tell by the way she looks at Maggie she don’t like it a bit. There’s murder in her eyes.”
I swallowed a growing tightness in my throat. Asbury was more astute than I gave him credit for, noticing these things. I thought about the calendar on my kitchen wall, and wished again I had looked at it before we left Pine Summit. Now I was really feeling annoyed with myself. I had been thinking we were closing in on the full moon, but now I wasn’t sure. I felt as if the warm glow of peaceful times was slipping away, and wondered if we were entering the turmoil of the next phase—a waning moon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Helen Haught Fanick grew up in West Virginia and now lives in Texas, and both states provide settings for her novels. Her work includes cozy mysteries, suspense novels, a World War II espionage novel, and short stories, all available as e-books. The novels are also available in paperback.
A short story impressed Helen’s fifth grade teacher, and she’s been writing ever since. She’s won several local and state awards and two national awards in the Writer’s Digest Competition. Moon Signs, Book I of the Moon Mystery Series, was a quarter-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards. Helen is a graduate of UTSA and lives in San Antonio with her husband.
Evil Under the Moon (Moon Mystery Series Book 5) Page 17