“Well, she was at the start of the trip, but wouldn’t you say she’s feeling a bit brighter and more confident these days?”
“I would,” I concede. “Perhaps we could even take over the Chinese Tea Room at Marble House—she got really excited about the prospect of baking there.”
“Or maybe have an event on one of the boats—High Tea on the High Seas?”
“I love that!”
We rattle back and forth until Krista’s hunger gets the better of her. “I need to go and find a burger joint.”
“You do that. I’m going to put in a call to our secret weapon.”
Gracie.
She may be several White Ladies down but she’s still sharp as a tack.
“Leave it with me,” she says. “I think I might have an idea.”
• • •
When I look at the clock again, I’m surprised to see it’s already time for me to leave for the speakeasy. I’m certainly in stealth-mode as I enter the hotel, praying I don’t cross anyone’s path as I make my way there. But, just as I turn down a never-ending corridor, I see Pamela and Charles heading directly for me. There’s not a stairwell or lift to duck into, so I have to brazen it out.
“Well, good evening to you—I trust you had a lovely dinner?”
“We did,” Pamela smiles, but Charles looks fretful.
“I’ll see you back at the room,” he excuses himself.
Pamela sighs as she gazes after him. “He’s losing patience with me.”
“How so?”
“He thinks you’re right about Ravenna’s attraction to Harvey. He says it’s going to make things even harder when we tell her.”
My jaw drops. “I thought you told her at the spa?”
“I did tell her, in painstaking, loving detail. But when I finished I realized she’d slept through the whole thing.”
“What?” I despair.
“I guess she was a little too relaxed. And then she got a blow-dry and her makeup done, so there wasn’t a spare moment.”
“So what’s the plan now?”
“Everyone has just gone back to their rooms to get a sweater, then we’re reconvening on the veranda.”
“Everyone?”
“Well, we’re going to call Harvey after we’ve had the conversation. Depending on how it goes.”
I nod.
“I’m so nervous!” Pamela confesses.
I take her hand. “Look, aside from the Harvey aspect, I think she’s going to be really pleased.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. She obviously adores Charles and she’s happy to see the two of you together. Maybe there will be some confusion or embarrassment regarding Harvey, but if you give her time to come to terms with it all . . .”
Pamela nods. “I’d better not keep everyone waiting.”
“No. On you go.”
For a moment I just stand there. I can’t believe she still hasn’t done the deed! It was all too good to be true. As if Ravenna would have reacted so breezily. I don’t know what happened at dinner to make Charles so concerned, but I suppose I can ask the object of her affection myself.
I’m on the patio level now, looking for the entrance to the speakeasy. Aha! Here we are: through the brick arch and down a narrow tunnel that does indeed resemble a cave. I’m feeling my way along the rough-hewn rocks when a body barrels into me. It’s only as I stumble back and turn toward the light that I realize the body belongs to Ravenna.
“Wait!” I call after her. “What’s going on?”
“Did you know?” she turns on me.
“Know what?”
“Did you know that Harvey is my half-brother? Did you know Charles is my . . .” Her voice cracks. “Did you?”
I go to speak but nothing comes out.
“You knew!” she spits. “You knew and you let me . . .”
“Ravenna,” I step toward her, but she slashes at my outstretched arms, hurtling away into the night.
Oh god.
I feel a presence behind me—it’s Harvey, hanging back in the archway looking ashen.
“What happened?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not good.”
“Tell me.”
He slumps back against the wall, rubs his face and then begins, “I was at the bar waiting for you and this person comes up behind me and places their hands over my eyes . . .” He looks at me. “I thought it was you so I reached back and I can’t even remember what I said but when I turned around she kissed me. Just out of nowhere! I mean, I knew she’d had too much champagne at dinner, but I didn’t see that coming.”
I close my eyes. My worst fear has come to pass.
“She wouldn’t back down,” Harvey continues. “I kept trying to get her to chill, to just take a moment, but she was so insistent—”
“So you told her?”
“I didn’t even mean to. It just blurted out of me. I think it was the shock.” He hangs his head.
I sigh with frustration at how inevitable this was. I saw this coming a mile off. I should have done more to stop it.
“I don’t think I should be the one to go after her.”
“No,” I agree. “I’ll call Pamela. It’s time they talked.”
“Honestly, I don’t think she’s going to be in the mood. You should have seen her face.” His brow rucks. “What have I done?”
“This isn’t your fault,” I insist. “Everyone knows she should have been told sooner.”
“I think I’d better go and find Dad.”
“You do that.”
He hesitates. “I’m sorry. I messed up our night.”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. Another time. Go now.”
He nods and sprints on his way.
• • •
I take a few moments to consider the wreckage and then find myself instinctively dialing Krista, forcing me to get logistical.
“So, most likely scenario is that she will lock herself in her room. I don’t know if she has enough money for a taxi but, even if she did, I don’t think she’d know where to go. We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere here and it’s pitch-black out there.”
“That poor girl.”
“I know,” I sigh. “If only her mother had been paying a little more attention at the spa.”
“I don’t know,” Krista tuts. “For whatever reason, she didn’t really want to tell her. She’s put it off for twenty years, after all.”
“Is it the shame, do you think? Or what?”
“I don’t think Pamela’s good with confrontation. Some people will do anything to avoid it. Plus, I think she’s afraid of her own daughter.”
“I think you could be right. And I don’t think this is going to help ease that—she looked like a wild woman.”
Krista sighs. “I wonder . . .”
“Wonder what?”
“I’m still in St. Johnsbury, which is less than an hour from you. Would you trust me to handle this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think Ravenna is going to want to be around any of you tonight. Will you give me permission to step in?”
“You sound like the cleanup crew in Pulp Fiction.”
“If that’s how you want to view it.”
“I don’t know how Pamela would react . . .”
“I don’t think Pamela’s going to be in a fit state for anything, she’ll just be wailing and wracked with guilt.”
“Sounds about right.”
“And Charles needs to take care of her. So. Time is a-ticking. You decide—is it a yes or no?”
I take a breath. I trust Krista. She’s never once let me down. I don’t know how to fix this myself, but she seems to have a plan.
“Go for it,” I tell her.
“Okay. I’m on it. Just text me her room number. I’ll update you when I can.”
I send the text with trembling fingers and then walk up to the bar. “Could I please have a teacup of your hardest liquor?”
“Certainly, madam.”
“Thank you.”
Now I just have to sit back and wait.
Chapter 48
The first call I get is from Charles, letting me know that he’s put Pamela to bed with a sleeping pill since she was threatening to camp outside Ravenna’s door until she let her in—sometime around the twelfth of never. He says he thinks it’s better to give Ravenna some breathing space. He’s written her a note, slid it under her door and it’s up to her to make the next move. No more drama. Everyone needs to stay in their own room and get some rest so we can reconvene with clear heads in the morning. I don’t know if that last comment was directed at me and Harvey, but romance is the last thing on my mind now. Well, maybe not the last, but not the most pressing.
I go to my window and look out into the night, wondering what Ravenna is doing with all that rage right now. You hear such awful things about young people these days. I hope Charles is right to give her space. Part of me would want to break her door down. Which is why I gave Krista the go-ahead. God, I wish she’d call.
I wonder if anyone has contacted Gracie? Probably not. No need to worry her at a distance when there’s nothing she can do.
I pace. I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I pace some more. I flick through the TV channels just to keep myself awake.
Three excruciating hours later, my phone rings.
“Krista?”
“I’ve got her. She’s safe. We’re at the Trapp Family Lodge.”
“Oh my god!” I feel a huge flood of relief. “How did you do it?”
“Well, you said she had a soft spot for dogs, and no one can resist Mitten.”
“You got him pawing at her door?” I know this trick from when I stayed with Krista and Jacques in Quebec.
“Yup. And then basically I offered to get her away from you lot and she jumped at the chance.”
I cringe. “So what now?”
“Just come here tomorrow as planned.”
“Well, we weren’t due to arrive until mid-afternoon, should we—”
“No. Don’t rush here. She needs as much time to herself as possible.”
“So, later?”
“No. No more switcheroos. Keep to the schedule. And bring Harvey. Unless she faces that embarrassment now, she’s never going to be able to have a normal relationship with him.”
“Is she okay? I mean, in herself?”
“No. But she will be.”
“Oh Krista!”
“Gotta go! I don’t want her knowing I’ve contacted you.”
“Okay!” I close the phone and hug it to my chest. Thank god she’s all right. Or—at the very least—in good hands. Now I just have to explain to the drama-averse Charles that my best friend has kidnapped his daughter.
Chapter 49
What a difference a day makes.
Yesterday, as we approached Mount Washington, everyone was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Today, as we wend on our way, there’s a heaviness in the air. The Road Trip has become a Guilt Trip, with at least three out of four of us feeling partially responsible for Ravenna’s anguish. Of course, Pamela feels wholly responsible, and has returned to the ragged, exhausted state she first arrived in.
“Perhaps you’d like to ride with Harvey?” Charles suggests, possibly wanting to give his beloved the freedom to complete her meltdown in private.
I am pleased to be with Harvey but it’s not the cheeriest atmosphere.
“I can’t imagine how fried her brain must be right now,” Harvey sighs as we meander through the greenery. “Can you imagine the shock?”
“I know. My biggest concern is that it might push her back into the arms of Eon.”
“Eon?!”
“The name says it all really. He’s not good for her. Not at all. But he’s an obvious person for her to call because he’s always so eager to bad-mouth Pamela.”
“That’s not cool.”
“No,” I sigh, genuinely concerned.
“Don’t worry,” he reaches for my hand. “We won’t let anything bad happen to her.”
I smile. “Is that your brotherly protection kicking in?”
“I think it is!” he grins and then adds: “Maybe you could drop Krista a line? See if she can keep an eye on that situation?”
“I certainly can.”
I take out my phone but, before I can tap the first word, the ringer jangles.
“Gracie!”
The one member of the group who is still in a state of blissful ignorance regarding last night’s farrago.
She’s so bursting with good news that I decide not to rain on her parade straightaway.
“Is young Harvey around?”
“Young Harvey is right here, let me put you on speakerphone.”
“It’s a long time since I was called young,” Harvey smiles.
“Well, everything’s relative,” Gracie replies. “Right! I think I’ve solved your accommodation issue.”
Harvey looks at me with wonder—can this be true?
“Last night, when you called, Laurie, Gerald and the gang were talking about the things they most miss in life, and nine out of ten of them said, ‘Having the grandchildren to stay.’ They miss that youthful energy, the surprising things they’d say, the new slang! Of course, some of them never did have any grandkids, and said they didn’t even know any teenagers.” She takes a breath. “So I said I might be able to help with that . . .”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
“Well. Shirley said she’s got five guest bedrooms that can take two or three girls apiece. Eli lives next door and he said he could match that for the boys. Faye says her favorite thing is making a giant stack of pancakes in the morning—since her husband died, she’s stopped doing it, but she would love to get going again, so she’s offered to provide breakfast. Of course, now everyone wants to pitch in in some way. And you know I’ve got the transport covered with the bus. I can’t wait to get back behind the wheel.”
“Are you serious?” I gasp.
“You know very well I am.”
“Yes I do,” I puff.
“The kids will flip out at the bus—new Facebook profile pics all round!”
I laugh. “It might just upstage the yachts.”
“I can live with that!” Harvey grins. “Gracie, you are a marvel. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Well, if you’re anything like as good-looking as your father—”
“Gracie!”
“I’m just teasing. But a little bit of flirtation wouldn’t go amiss. I get the feeling that Faye just wants to hear she’s pretty one more time.”
“As a matter of fact, Harvey does have a way with the older ladies,” I say, remembering the lovely woman at the Parker House Hotel in Boston.
“You my pimp now?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” I ask.
“In this context, no.”
“I think we have a deal, Gracie!”
“Great. We can firm up all the details and dates later. So, where are you now?”
I tell her we’re about half an hour from the Trapp Family Lodge in Vermont.
“Dare I ask whether any revelations have been made?”
My jaw juts to the side. What is the best way to phrase this?
“Ravenna does know—” I begin.
“Hallelujah!”
“Unfortunately she didn’t find out in the best possible way. She’s actually already at the lodge with my friend Krista. Not exactly in the best mood.”
“You mean she didn’t hear it from Pamela?
”
“No. They haven’t actually had a chance to talk since she found out.”
“That daughter of mine,” Gracie despairs. “She brings these things on herself. She’s always been like this, always putting things off, waiting until tomorrow . . .”
Harvey looks a little uncomfortable.
“I know. It’s not ideal. But what’s done is done. Now we just need to try and make everything better.”
Gracie sighs. “Well, raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens and all that.”
“Indeed. We’ll keep you updated.”
• • •
Harvey and I spend the rest of the journey trying to name all the songs in The Sound of Music.
It’s crazy to think it’s based on a true story—a nun and a baron fleeing the Nazis with a gaggle of singing children in tow. Perhaps crazier to think that Ravenna is taking the role of Captain—one whistle blow and here we all come running.
“This is the road,” Harvey says as we turn off the main highway onto a rather more uneven, tree-crowded strip.
Pamela and Charles are following behind us, no doubt hearing the scrapings of a few branches on their rooftop.
I’m finding it hard to picture anything more than a tree house nestled in these environs when suddenly the lodge comes into view. Apparently the von Trapps fell in love with Vermont because it reminded them of their native Austria, both in its scenery and climate. In turn they’ve certainly added their own home-from-home flourishes: the main building is like a giant ski chalet—the windows have jutting triangular hoods, there are stencil-like cut-outs in the brown wooden balconies, and an abundance of window boxes brimming with bright orangey-red flowers.
If I could yodel I would.
“It looks so wholesome,” Harvey notes.
He’s right. I can’t think of a more inappropriate setting for a family drama. Mind you, I suppose the von Trapps had their fair share. At least we don’t have any Nazis to deal with.
• • •
We follow Krista’s instructions of getting a coffee and congregating on the terrace.
(She stayed up all night talking to Ravenna, letting her vent and release as much as she possibly could. I think it helped that Krista represented a fairly neutral stranger, as I once did.)
The Traveling Tea Shop Page 27