by Mary Daheim
“Oh, good grief!” Renie exclaimed after Judith finished her recap of the situation with Mike’s family. “You get rid of one pain in the butt with Willie and then you end up in another mess. You really need to get out of town. It’s too bad we can’t leave now.”
“Can Bill take us to the train a bit later?” Judith asked. “It’s a ten-minute drive to the station, and on a Sunday there shouldn’t be much downtown traffic.”
Renie didn’t answer right away. “Well…Bill’s gone to bed, so I can’t mention it tonight. He’s like his brother, Bub. They insist on leaving an hour earlier than any normal person would because they want to make sure they have a seat, a pew, a parking place, a…whatever. It’s got to be a Midwestern thing. I don’t think either of them changed their watches after they moved here forty-odd years ago. Or,” she added musingly, “do I mean daylight savings time? I hate the idea so much that I try not to think about it. What’s the point?” Her voice grew angry—and loud. “What the hell are we saving the daylight for?”
Judith never understood her cousin’s opposition to the concept, except as an example of Renie’s contrary nature. “Relax,” she urged. “We change back in the wee small hours Sunday.”
“Hmm. That gives me an idea.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” Renie said. “It involves math. I’ll figure it out by Sunday.”
“I need answers now,” Judith insisted. “What do I tell the kids?”
“Nothing. Don’t expend energy making up one of your convoluted lies.”
“Fibs,” Judith snapped. “I don’t lie. I only tell fibs in a good cause.”
“You just told another one.” Renie sounded impatient with her cousin’s attitude toward deception. “Don’t say anything. Yet.”
There was no choice but to reluctantly agree. Renie might be older, but that didn’t mean she was wiser. Besides, Judith admitted to herself as she slowly climbed the stairs, keeping quiet was easier than blurting out the truth.
When she reached the third-floor family quarters, she paused as she often did to rest her hip and take a deep breath. All was quiet in Mike’s old room and the den. Joe, however, was still awake and reading a book by one of his favorite crime caper authors. He paused as Judith entered the bedroom. “I should never have tried to watch that Weevil movie,” he said. “It’s a good cure for insomnia. I must’ve dozed off for almost an hour, so now I don’t feel sleepy.”
“I do,” Judith replied. “I’m suffering from a moral dilemma. Have you mentioned our Boston trip to Mike or Kristin?”
“Only that I’m heading back there next week,” Joe said. “I knew you were in a pickle, so I didn’t mention your plans.” His green eyes twinkled. “I’m anxious to hear how you plan to wiggle off the hook on this one.”
“I’m not,” Judith retorted. “Renie’s handling it.”
“Oh God!” Joe flung an arm across his forehead. “That’s worse than your mega-lies!”
“Don’t you start in on me,” Judith warned. “Renie’s already done that. It’s not my fault Mike and Kristin showed up for the weekend without notice. Mother should’ve mentioned it sooner, but if I’d had the courage to tell her about the trip, she might’ve told them their timing was bad.”
Joe snorted. “It’d be like her not to tell them just to be ornery.” Judith glared at her husband from over the neck of the sweater she was pulling off. “Mother isn’t always mean.”
Joe feigned bewilderment. “Maybe it’s just me.”
“Maybe it is.” She placed her sweater on top of the dresser. “I’ve given up on either of you making peace.”
“You might as well,” Joe said. “I figure contention is one of the things that keeps the old girl going.”
“Could be.” Judith stepped out of her slacks. “Feistiness has its benefits.”
“I think she’s lived so long because God doesn’t want her.” Joe closed his book and set it on the nightstand. “Are you really tired?”
“Yes,” Judith snapped. “It’s been a long and…” She paused, staring at Joe’s mischievous expression. “Maybe I’m not that tired.”
He reached out to take her hand and draw her closer to the bed. “Let’s see if I can perk you up.”
Moving into the circle of his arms, Judith smiled. “You always could.” She sighed softly. “You always will.”
“Good,” Joe said, burying his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder. “After all, we’re still making up for lost time.”
During the night the rain and wind stopped, but by morning, fog had settled in over the hill. The little boys were sleeping in, having been worn out by the previous day’s activities. Mike and Kristin came down to the kitchen shortly before eight. Judith had just returned from taking her mother’s breakfast to the toolshed. She’d considered breaking the news about the Boston trip to Gertrude, but changed her mind at the last minute. It wasn’t just putting up with the old lady’s predictable complaints about her daughter abandoning her for such a long time, but that her mother would blab the news to Mike and Kristin.
The early part of the morning was typically busy. Kristin volunteered to help with the guests’ breakfast. Judith accepted the offer, but pointed out that the menu was already planned. Kristin could help by setting up the serving area in the dining room. Judith sensed that her daughter-in-law was put off by the request. Having quickly accomplished the task, Kristin remarked that the curtains in the family quarters needed washing. Judith hadn’t argued, but Phyliss pitched a fit.
“Your son’s wife should keep her nose out of my business,” she griped as the Alaskan quartet and the Tennessee couple were finishing their meal. “I’ve got a system and a schedule. Those curtains shouldn’t be washed until the third week of November. Come next May, everything will be higgly-piggly.”
“Let her do it. Kristin isn’t happy unless she’s busy,” Judith said, not without sympathy for Phyliss.
“Then she ought to be all smiles, which is more than I can say for some of your paying guests. From what I’ve seen of them this morning, they’re a grumpy bunch. Too much noise during the night. Maybe Miss Know-It-All was running the vacuum in the wee small hours.”
“It was probably the wind.” Judith cocked an ear in the direction of the dining room.
“The Canadians just came downstairs. I should greet them.”
Right behind the Gauthiers was Libby Pruitt, a Northwestern University lit professor on sabbatical. Judith hadn’t been able to visit much with Ms. Pruitt, who’d checked in late Tuesday and was due to check out Friday morning. The guests already at the table greeted Judith as they made way for the newcomers.
Gauthier père studied the offerings on the sideboard that had been installed the previous winter by Judith’s handyman, the ageless and energetic Skjoval Tolvang. “No omelets?” he exclaimed in something akin to shock.
“Chill, Papa,” Gauthier fils said softly. “The scrambled eggs look great.”
“Tomorrow,” Judith said, “my husband is making his Joe’s Special. It’s not exactly an omelet, but our guests always rave about…”
A blond head loomed over the half doors to the kitchen. “Omelets coming up!” Kristin cried. “Three minutes!”
Judith’s smile was strained. “The ham and two kinds of sausage are excellent. Try the blueberry pancakes and the Belgian waffles. Everyone always seems to enjoy them.”
Steve Gauthier shot Judith an amused glance. “My father likes waffles. Don’t you, Papa?”
The older man uttered a little grunt. “They are fine. Usually.” His son had already filled his plate. “The whipped cream’s homemade and the strawberries are fresh, not frozen.”
“In October?” Mr. Gauthier was incredulous. “How can that be?” Judith was flummoxed. She had no idea where Falstaff’s got their berries during fall and winter. For all she knew, the store manager grew them in his bathtub. “Australia? Chile? Our grocer flies in items from all over the world.”
Mr.
Gauthier poured his orange juice. “Ah! Real oranges. Excellent.”
Judith started for the kitchen to see what the overzealous Kristin was up to, but a clearing of the throat by Libby Pruitt caught her attention. “Yes?” Judith said, realizing that Ms. Pruitt remained in the dining-room doorway.
“May I have a word, please?” she asked in a low voice.
“Of course,” Judith said, noting that her guest’s pale face looked worried. “Shall we go into the living room?”
“That’s not necessary.” Libby Pruitt had moved into the entry hall and stopped by the powder room. She was tall and slim, close to six feet in her low-heeled shoes. “This morning I dropped one of my contact lenses by the window.” She made a face. “It was for my left eye, which is considerably worse than my right. I’m farsighted, so I literally had to feel for it. I finally moved the braided rug at the foot of the bed—and found this.” She opened her right hand to reveal a plain gold band in her palm. “It’s engraved. Perhaps a previous guest didn’t realize the ring was missing until after checking out.”
Judith plucked up the ring and peered at the tiny markings. “It looks too big for a woman, but you never know. I can’t see this without a magnifier.”
Libby smiled. “Once I found my contact, I could read what turned out to be initials. They’re RK, an ampersand, and JG. There’s also a date—1990.”
Judith nodded. “I see that now. The guest who stayed there ahead of you was an Episcopal priest from New Jersey attending a church conference. I don’t recall if he wore a wedding ring. His last name was Dobbs. Wrong initials.”
“Maybe,” Libby suggested, “the ring has been there for some time.”
Judith shook her head. “I doubt it. A lost wedding ring—at least that’s what it looks like—isn’t something you’d forget.”
Libby’s thin lips curved slightly. “It is if you want to forget the person wearing the matching band.”
“Uh…that’s so.” Judith had already noticed the oval garnet ring on Libby’s left hand. Maybe it had replaced a wedding band that evoked unhappy memories. “Thanks for finding this. I’ll do some research to figure out who may have lost it.”
Libby smiled. “Good luck.” She walked into the dining room. Judith put the ring in the pocket of her tan slacks before opening the guest register to check the most recent occupants of room two. It was not only the smallest of Hillside Manor’s six rooms, but had a single bed. She searched all the way back to October 1, but found no one with the initials RK or JG. Stumped, she returned to the dining room just as Kristin entered bearing two big platters.
“Omelets,” she announced with a big smile, setting the dishes on the table instead of the sideboard. “This one,” she continued, pointing to her left, “is shrimp and mushrooms. Traditional, tasty. The other is hardier as well as healthier. Chopped raisins and nuts. Try it with some of the powdered sugar that’s in the small green bowl.” She nodded toward the sideboard. “Enjoy!”
Judith smiled at her guests in passing as she followed Kristin into the kitchen. “You didn’t need to make the omelets. We have ample food for everyone now that all the guests are seated. By the way, where did you get the nuts?”
“In the pantry,” Kristin replied. “Isn’t that where you keep them?”
“Usually,” Judith said. “I don’t cook with them except during the holidays. Aunt Renie is allergic to all kinds of nuts, especially peanuts.”
“Peanuts aren’t nuts,” Kristin said. “They’re legumes.”
Judith agreed. “She’s allergic to both. It’s peanuts that can be lethal.”
“That’s awful,” Kristin declared. “How can she not eat nuts and be healthy? Couldn’t she be desensitized?”
“She’d never risk it. Renie’s always lived with the allergy. She prefers being unhealthy—and undead,” Judith said, trying not to sound annoyed. But the attempt failed. Kristin suddenly looked offended. Judith quickly put a hand on her daughter-in-law’s arm.
“I really appreciate your help. Now that everyone’s been served, we can close the kitchen.”
Kristin still looked prickly. “Aren’t all of your rooms full?”
“Yes, but—” Judith stopped. “Oh, drat! I forgot about the Zs.”
“The Zs?”
“A couple showed up last night and I put them in room three. Their last name is unpronounceable. Maybe they went out to breakfast.” Judith started for the back stairs. “I’ll ask Phyliss. She’ll know if they’re still in their room.”
“Phyliss needs to mind her manners,” Kristin said. “Doesn’t she understand that you’re the employer and she’s the employee?”
Judith turned around. “She insists she works only for God. I’m strictly in the middle. Phyliss has her ways, but it’s best not to rile her.”
Kristin was standing between the hall and the kitchen, her hands braced against the doorjambs. With her Valkyrie-like appearance, she reminded Judith of Samson holding up the pillars of the temple. If, she thought fleetingly, Kristin removed her hands, would the whole house fall down?
“Insubordination is unacceptable,” Kristin said. “It erodes self-esteem.”
Judith tried to keep her temper in check. “Phyliss has worked for me from the get-go. We have an unspoken understanding. She puts up with my shortcomings and I shrug off her Bible-thumping. She’s a fine worker, loyal and never shirking. As for self-esteem, at my age, I don’t dwell on it.”
Kristin moved out of the doorway and took a few steps into the hallway. The house did not fall down. “That’s unwise. Age isn’t a factor. I hate mentioning it, but there are times when you seem to be…” Her forehead wrinkled as she struggled to find the right word.
Judith braced herself against the wall by the stairs. “Yes?” Kristin took a deep breath. “You’ve become a doormat. There. I’ve said it.” She smiled wryly. “You let people run right over you, including Joe, Gee-Gee, Aunt Renie, and even Mike. That’s why you should reflect on your lack of self-esteem. It’ll get worse with time. Society shuns older people, ignoring their wisdom and experience. We live in a youth-obsessed culture, but by valuing yourself and exuding confidence, you needn’t become invisible.”
“Thanks, Kristin,” Judith said, feeling as if her face had frozen.
“I’ll think about that. If I agree with you, I’ll let you know.” And no thanks for making me feel like a lowly, worthless worm. If, as you suggest, I had more spunk, I’d wring your neck and stuff you in the Dumpster. “Now I have to look for some missing guests.” Before Kristin could respond, Judith started up the back stairs.
Phyliss was coming out of room six, which was where one of the two Alaskan couples was staying. “Are these Eskimos checking out today?” she asked, setting a trash bag down in the hall.
“No,” Judith said. “All of the Alaskans are staying another night. And I don’t think they’re Eskimos.”
Phyliss glowered at Judith. “They’re from Alaska, aren’t they?”
“It doesn’t matter what they are,” Judith said. “I’m looking for the couple in room three. Are they up yet? Breakfast is nearly over.”
“What couple?” Phyliss responded. “I thought that crazy blasphemous sinner was hauled off to the hospital.”
“New guests arrived last night. Did they go out to breakfast?” Phyliss stared at Judith.
“I don’t know anything about them. The room looks just the way I left it yesterday. Neat as a pin.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Judith said. “Let me have a look.”
“Go ahead,” the cleaning woman said. “Have I ever told a lie?”
“No,” Judith admitted. “Maybe I’m going insane.”
“It happens to a lot of people I know,” Phyliss said. “Straight to the booby hatch. I’m taking out the trash. If you see phantom guests in room three, keep it to yourself.”
Phyliss was right. Room three was pristine, as if no one had occupied it since the previous day. Judith checked the wastebasket, the
bathroom, the closet, and the bureau drawers. There was no sign of the Zs. They seemed to have evaporated into thin air. Am I delusional? she wondered. But she recalled putting the $220 cash payment in the strongbox. She also remembered that the Gauthiers had arrived just as the Zs headed upstairs. The vanishing act baffled her, but at least she hadn’t been stiffed for the room fee.
Judith closed the door. In her fifteen years as an innkeeper, there had been many strange, puzzling, and even tragic incidents. People were unpredictable. They came and went. She’d probably never cross paths again with Dick and Jane Z. Going back downstairs, Judith dismissed them from her mind. They were gone and might as well be forgotten.
She was only half right.
Chapter Four
The next two days passed in a blur of activity for Judith. That was just as well. There was little time to worry about the Zs’ disappearing act or reveal her impending departure to Mike and Gertrude, or to figure out who’d lost a gold band. All the guests who had been staying at Hillside Manor during the week had checked out by Sunday morning, but their vacated rooms were filled with newcomers. Mike and Kristin had taken the boys to the zoo and the aquarium on Thursday, returning Mac and Joe-Joe to their grandparents’ care while they dined at a waterfront restaurant. The McMonigles spent Friday visiting a haunted house, a corn maze, and a pumpkin patch. Saturday morning Kristin took the boys to see a play based on “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” at the nearby children’s theater. In the afternoon, Joe and Mike went on a ferryboat ride with the boys to visit the naval shipyard across the sound. Kristin lunched with a friend from her college days and did some shopping downtown. To Judith’s relief, there had been no opportunity for another of her daughter-in-law’s self-esteem lectures.
“I’d forgotten how bossy she is,” Judith said to Renie as the Flynns and the Joneses left Our Lady Star of the Sea’s eleven o’clock Mass. “But she has many good qualities and I shouldn’t gripe about her,” she added, looking up at the cross on top of the church steeple. “I should be more charitable.”