by Zoey Kane
“It’s like an airport tower where you can look out in all directions,” Zoey said. “I think it’s marvelous, Claire.” She stepped around the uniqueness of it all with hands on hips in wonder.
“Watch this,” said Joseph with a knowing smile. He pushed a button on the middle pillar and the roof rolled back, revealing beautiful stars and a fresh pine scent. “Most people keep this closed during the day. Too bright on sunny days. Oh, and, uh, all the windows are mirrored from the outside so nobody can see in. I hope you like it. Some people like to call it luxury camping.”
Zoey said, “You mean glamping. Glamour camping.”
“Sure,” he laughed and continued. “There’s also twenty-four-hour service. Beside each of your beds, there’s a phone. Call us any time. Oh, and there’s a wrap-around terrace you enter through those French doors there, if you’d like breakfast outside.” He clasped his hands against his red uniform. “Is there anything else you ladies would like or that I can help you with?” He stood waiting.
“Yes,” Claire responded, handing Joseph a rolled twenty-dollar bill. “This is for you. Please start a tab for us at the desk for the food. We would like ham sandwiches, potato chips, cherry pie and some chocolate candies.”
“Oh,” Zoey added with a smile, “and I’d like some milk to go with all that.”
“Same here,” Claire said. “Skim for me. No, we’re on vacation—make it whole. So how much of that can we get right now?”
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes with it all. Oh, yeah!” He paused. “I’ll give you a call from the elevator and you can buzz me in with the same red button by the door here.” He went on his way.
The mother and daughter took their time, walking the perimeter to gaze out the windows. The treetops reflected the moon’s light, while the darkness swallowed the rest. In the distance, a scattered series of stationary lights emanated through the trees. Zoey wondered if that was the community from which the police volunteer had come.
Finally, the two met in the middle, and Zoey grabbed her daughter’s hand, squeezing it in excitement. She had a feeling between her shoulders that there would be an exciting bit of adventure to do with their getaway lodge in the woods.
From an intercom came Joseph’s voice. “Hi. I’ve got your order.”
Claire gave a trot to push the button that opened the elevator to their suite.
Joseph entered, again with a big smile. He parked the maroon-linened trolley of sandwiches and goodies set on white dishes. It was all there, chocolates included.
“Joseph,” asked Zoey, “what is that lit-up area, over there, beyond those trees?”
“Oh, that is Lanternwood Road, where travelers stop to eat or gas up. Will there be anything else, Ms. Kanes?” He looked from one woman to the other.
“That’s it. Goodnight, Joseph,” said Zoey. Claire waved with a mouth full of sandwich and a dill pickle in her other hand.
“Cute kid!” Zoey said after the door slid closed. “What time is it?”
Claire swallowed. “The digital clock on the wall there says 8:45.” She checked her gold watch. “Yep, on the dot.”
After all was finished, except for the candy, which was placed on the coffee table, they called down to have the trolley taken away. They decided they’d turn in early for the night. It’d be good to get an early start in the morning, to check out Lanternwood Road. The name alone was intriguing.
They left the ceiling retracted. As they got comfortable in their side-by-side beds, Zoey pulled her blanket snuggly to her neck, and said, “All those years I was a real estate agent, and I’ve only ever seen convertible cars, never convertible buildings.”
Claire fluffed her pillow before resting her head against it. “It’s pretty neat.” She smiled at the moon right above them, an orb of brilliant white splendor.
They were about to drift without a care in the world when a couple of long howls pierced the night. Claire shuddered at the sound. “There sure are a lot of wolves in these parts,” she mumbled more to herself.
TWO
The next morning, the elevator doors swished open at the first floor, and out emerged the mother-daughter duo, giggling and ready to go get breakfast. Zoey’s long strawberry-blond hair was swooped up into a wavy ponytail, and Claire’s sleek dark hair was knotted in a low bun, with long bangs cascading over her cheeks. Zoey carried her snakeskin purse again, which went well with her black, long sleeved blouse and tight jeans.
Claire asked for directions at the desk for the best place to eat. The day clerk, nametag—Barney, told them, “The main road goes for miles, and eventually hooks up with an interstate highway. That highway goes for hundreds of miles before you’re out of the middle of nowhere. So be sure,” he said, “to take the right turn at Lanternwood, where you can eat at Smiley Jack’s for an interesting breakfast. If you turn left on Rottenwood Road, you’ll end up with backwoods people who aren’t all that friendly, especially to tourists.” He raised a bushy brow and narrowed his eyes in a you’ve-been-warned look.
“Okaaay,” replied Claire. “So, Mom, no going left to Rotten-backwoods. It’s right to Lanternwood, for food and a look round.”
“Got it! Let’s go.”
About ten minutes up the road, Zoey turned left.
“Mom!” Claire said, perplexed. “You were supposed to turn right, not left.”
“No, honey. Turn left on Rottenwood for food, not right to Lanternwood’s back woods.
“Okay, Mom…” Claire lightly shook her head in disapproval. “You got your gun?”
“What a thing to say, silly.” Zoey’s smile widened over a line of whitened teeth. “Of course I do.”
The road fast became gravel. “This car sure gives a nice cushioned ride,” Claire said. She was used to her little yellow Volkswagen they usually drove around in—the car that loved her.
“I didn’t waste my money on an irresponsible whim, dear. After all, a woman of a certain experience…”
“You mean in your fifties?” Claire teased.
“My way early fifties.”
“Of course!”
“What I am saying, sweet daughter, is I had very good reason for buying this new car.”
“You don’t need a good reason, Mother. Buy what you want. You are finally wealthy, remember? Let go of the guilt.”
“Well, I don’t want to be stupid about it.”
“I think our Kane Foundation proves we do a lot of good with our money.” Claire studied the dense landscape while talking, tall hedges of fir trees and brambles on either side.
“You know,” Zoey continued, “when I was a girl, I couldn’t buy toys just because I wanted to. It had to be my birthday, or Christmas. Then later, when I was working and I had a couple of dollars, I went to a toy store to buy whatever toy I wanted, no matter the price.” The car continued crunching gravel to Zoey’s story. “There wasn’t anything that seemed fun enough to me anymore, except a bag of Jacks. I bought Jacks.”
“Oh, really?” Claire said, curious. “Have you played it since?”
“A few times. I’m getting good at it, too.” She shrugged. “So, anyway, I bought this new car. My own toy.”
“And the Kane helicopter?”
“All business. Just like you said, our foundation is very charitable, and bigger than either of us, or even the people who work for us.”
“Agreed.”
As they headed around a bend, a rundown community of sorts came into view. Their car dipped through gravelly mud puddles as they pressed on through the village of old buildings. Paint, bleached and peeling from years of weather and sun, accentuated its spooky vibe. From a building’s second-story window, a white lace curtain fluttered like a ghost above the rib-like planks that were the sidewalks. Walking down those planks, and fitting right in, was a strange variety of people. They stared down the Kanes with contempt, some with sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones.
“Wow, these old historical buildings,” Zoey said in a sing-song tone, ignoring the
stares.
“It looks like they’re starting a little restoration there.” Claire pointed. Next to a saloon, men worked on a smaller structure, nailing up bright new slats. The echoing bangs of hammers stopped, as they, too, stared. “But what’s caught my eye more is the people,” Claire added. “They don’t look all that friendly. Just like Barney said.”
Zoey slowed down to a crawl, pulling up to a mousy blond woman in a wolf T-shirt and jeans. She was walking, holding the hands of twin boys.
“Is there a place to eat around here?” Zoey called over.
“Not here.” The woman stopped. “You took a wrong turn. Lanternwood is the paved road across from ours. There’s a cafe, gas station, and general store. You should go there.” She abruptly walked away.
“Jeez…” Claire huffed. “Guess we'd better go to Lanternwood.”
“No,” Zoey said, undisturbed. “This is too interesting.” She pulled up a little further, to a group. In the five who had collected to watch the Kanes was one old lady and a couple of middle-aged women with two younger guys. Putting on her most appealing smile, Zoey directed a question to the men. “Is there a real estate office here? We are loving this particularly woody area and quaint village you have!”
The middle-aged women laughed.
The old lady didn’t mince her words. “You wouldn’t like it!”
A dark-haired guy had an exaggerated smile, having obviously taken a liking to Zoey. “I’d like it!”
The other, an auburn-blond man, said to him, “Cut it out,” and abruptly crossed the street, rubbing his short beard.
Suddenly mad and in the mood to get some answers, Claire said, “Hurry and follow him, Mom.”
Zoey crept the car along, after him.
Claire rolled down her window and asked, “So what’s your name?”
He didn’t answer. He just kept walking.
“So, what’s going on in this community?” Claire asked more, a light breeze playing with the long wisps of hair that framed her smiling face.
Again, no reply.
“You need to get out more,” she added, keeping a smile on her face as her mother paced him. “Mix with outside people, sharpen your social skills.”
He finally stopped and turned, directly facing her. In an aggravated tone, he said, “Maybe I know a little more than you, social fluff. What you need to do is get outta here. Can’t you tell people don’t want you crazy tourists intruding on our private community?”
Just then, one of the building’s doors opened, upon which a smaller man with round glasses came out, wearing an aluminum-foil cone hat.
Claire’s mouth dropped open. She’d only heard of such crazy attire, and it wasn’t from her days of reporting on the latest trends from New York’s couture runways.
The loony quickly challenged, “What are you looking at? It works! If you were so smart, you’d get one, too! Hummph!” He walked away looking offended.
“Ooookay,” Claire said, and muttered to her mother, “What’s so ‘private’ about this community?”
The original man they were stalking, the tall auburn-haired one, quickened his pace. Zoey matched his speed again with her car. Flustered, he stopped to face Claire again, not saying anything, just working his jaw muscles.
Claire continued giving him her glowing smile enhanced by large, expressive eyes that had been accentuated with carefully applied brown shadow. “You give up?”
He stood with a stare that could rival Clint Eastwood’s. “We don’t like tourists here. This is a unique community, and we are not part of your tour.”
“Okaaay,” Claire said. “This social fluff just wanted to poke a friendly stick at one of the uptight, rigid-faced, obtuse citizens of this quirky village. Oh, and it’s not me who’s obnoxious, but you all, who’re stranger than any tourist who had the misfortune to make a wrong turn into this dried-up, antiquated village of people who are drier than your old brittled-up boardwalk.” Claire motioned to a cracked gray board. “See that plank? That’s you.”
His jaw quit working, but his eyes widened with moderately raised brows.
Claire added with a tone of warning, “And don’t think your honey-colored hair, pretty face and height are going to win you any favors, because what you need is to be oiled like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz to ease that rusted personality.”
“Are you through?” he asked, his eyes frozen over.
“Wait a minute.” Claire thought for a second and answered with a smile, “Yeah. I think that will do. I’d wish you a good day, buuuut I don’t think you’re up to it.” Claire looked at her mom with a brilliant smile. “Hit it, Mom.”
Zoey stomped on the gas for a fast take off, then hit the brakes and cranked the wheel for a gravel-throwing U-turn… after which, she headed out at a prudent ten miles per hour. “Okay, sweetie,” she said, “off to Smiley Jack’s for a big breakfast. I’m hungry!”
“Yeah, those people sure are strange…” Claire sobered, peering in her side rearview mirror at some laborers picking vegetables from a communal garden. They each stood in unison to watch them leave. “There has to be something deeper going on there.”
THREE
Lanternwood was a newer community of homes inspired by log cabins. Just like Barney and the strange folks of Rottenwood had said, it was also a road offering a gas station, general store and Smiley Jack's. The Kanes soon entered Smiley Jack’s, both their stomachs eager. It was small, with a black and white checkered floor, the scent of fried ham teasing their senses. As it was fairly packed for 8:45 in the morning, they were seated in the last booth.
They promptly chose a ham and eggs breakfast complemented by a stack of cinnamon flapjacks. The Kanes were usually health-conscious, eating carefully. But on vacation they pushed wisdom to the side. Their vacation mantra was, Eat what you feel like.
Cutting into her glistening piece of pink ham, Claire asked, “Well, how you likin’ it so far?”
“No.” Zoey finished swallowing a bit of salted egg. “I’m not liking it. Too nutty. However, I’m willing to give it a little more time.”
“By the way you were having fun with me, out in Rottenwood, I would’ve guessed you were loving this place.” She forked the ham into her mouth, savoring its smoked-honey flavor. “Mmmm.”
“Ladies,” an unexpected voice interrupted. It was a man with dark hair, graying at the temples, and penetrating gray-blue eyes. “You seem to have some room in a six-seater booth when there is no other. Would you mind a hungry, fellow citizen joining you? I promise to be pleasant, not overly talkative.” He smiled.
Knowing the man wasn’t her mother’s usual type (older than her), Claire slid over before Zoey had a chance to figure it all out.
“Thank you,” he said to Claire, but remained standing, awaiting Zoey’s approval.
“Yes, you’re welcome,” Zoey accepted, not wanting to be rude. “Please be seated.”
“Thank you,” he said again.
The waitress came to the table with some warmed raspberry syrup, as Claire had requested. “Hello, Jack,” she said, setting it down. “What will it be today?”
“I’ll have what these elegant ladies are having.” He smiled big again.
“Right away.” The waitress hurried off, her apron’s bow wagging at her back.
“I’m Zoey Kane,” Zoey said to their table guest, “and this is my daughter Claire.”
Both ladies were quite impressive, with pretty eyes that showed a sense of sizing up whomever they were talking to. The light-brown-eyed mom and darker-brown-eyed daughter innocently used this power, because they weren’t particularly aware of it. Although one time, Zoey, being a people-watcher, got accused of rudely staring by a woman down the way. She quickly told the woman she was admiring her rings. That seemed to make things better. Zoey remembered that, because she still had a fascination to study other people—but not get caught.
Speaking of people-watching, while Zoey talked with Jack, Claire noticed a young man a table awa
y seemed to be fascinated by them. Claire glanced over at him a second time, sensing his stares. He was in baggy outdoor gear, from his floppy hat to his matching cargo pants. A waitress interrupted him by asking him if he was ready for his check. The stranger nervously snapped to attention, snatching a wallet out of his back pocket. “Yes, yes,” he said. He opened it up with skittering fingers and accidentally dropped a few coins onto the floor.
“Oh, oh,” Zoey said, seeing the commotion. One coin rolled across the checkered linoleum and tapped her red heel.
The young man dove for it, but he was too late. Zoey had plucked it up and was studying it with interest. “An old buffalo nickel. Neat.” She turned it over.
The stranger reached out his hand expectantly. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said.
Zoey dropped it in his sweaty hand and gave a friendly nod. The stranger stuffed it into a deep pocket and returned his attention to the waitress needing payment.
Their new table guest gave a slight chuckle, and Zoey reiterated for Claire, “Did you get that? This is Jack Jude, owner of Smiley Jack’s.”
“Oh? Nice to meet you.” Claire perked up, ignoring the man from a table away. “Tell me about it. What do you think about this area?”
“The good community here down Lanternwood Road knows me very well, although I’m a fairly new resident. Just been here about two years. Things have been moving along pretty well for me, too, I’d say.” He took a sip of water. “It’s been said that although we are too small to be a town around here, or have a mayor, I might as well be the honorary de facto. So if you have a need—I presume you’re tourists up at The Howliday Inn—please call on me.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.
Claire, accepting it, raised a brow. “The Howliday Inn?” she repeated what he'd called their destination. “I thought it was named Moonshadow Inn.”
He smiled, and she noticed one of his front teeth was slightly overlapping the other. “I see you haven’t heard that before. It suits this area well, don’t you think?”