Crestmont

by Holly Weiss

  William Woods announced each event through a big megaphone. People cheered through cupped hands for their favorite contestants, their shouts amplified by the water. Echoes from similar events at other hotels along the lake mixed with the splashing and applause on the Crestmont waterfront.

  When each event was won, Sid clanged a big brass bell. Mr. Swett strutted around the beach, proudly displaying the Canoe Race winner’s plaque with his named etched in first place for the fourth year in a row. Buddies of the Underwater Pull winner carried him around on their shoulders, hooting and hollering while dumping him off the end of the dock.

  After the water games, the staff docked the SS Sundae in full view of the big house, but the guests had covered their own float with canvas and moored it down the shore. They wanted it to be a surprise for Mr. Woods.

  A ham turned on a spit over an open fire. Sam and Isaiah lay huge pork ribs lathered with barbeque sauce on the outdoor brick grill. Aromas of cooking meat and roasted corn coaxed people away from their bathing suits, horseshoes and croquet mallets. Soon men in linen suits and women in pastel dresses and straw hats leaned over the porch railing, hungrily awaiting the dinner bell.

  Dusk settled. People waved away mosquitoes while they ooh’d and aah’d at the town fireworks set off from the north beach, signaling the beginning of the flotilla. Built with wood, paper maché, and other concoctions, the floats were lit by Japanese lanterns. The Volunteer Fire Department had done a tribute to the Pittsburgh Pirates. The Eagles Mere Inn featured a bald eagle in flight with Lindberg’s plane in tandem. Women’s Suffrage came from the Ladies Auxiliary. A fake raccoon with a fish stuck in his mouth represented the Chamber of Commerce. Zeke played his harmonica on the SS Sundae. A paper maché Palomino sporting a black baseball cap and a sash that read “The Forest Inn” stood in a fake canoe. The guests of the Crestmont had fashioned a huge golden trophy with two men standing on either side, arms linked through the trophy handles, swinging tennis rackets in their free hands. The flotilla ended at the Edgemere dock for judging.

  The raccoon got first place, but the SS Sundae returned to the Crestmont with a big red ribbon while the town band played. Crowding around their float, the staff congratulated themselves as they served ice cream to the children. Gracie saw someone peek out from behind one of the huge fake cones on the float and realized it was Eleanor.

  No one heard the golf balls hit the lake because there was too much noise. Then the band stopped.

  “Crack!” The ominous sound was duller than a residual firecracker.

  “It’s Eleanor!” Gracie cried, watching a golf ball hit Eleanor on the side of the head. Eleanor’s arms were wrapped around one of the huge cotton candy cones. Both fell backwards with a splash into the dark water.

  Her mother dropped a tray of desserts and ran for the dock. “William!” He ripped off his jacket and dove in, not knowing where to search for his daughter. Men removed their shoes, ready to go in the water. All flashlights and lanterns turned toward the spot.

  Someone close to Gracie plunged into the water, but by the time she looked, no one was there.

  “Here, take her,” Bessie said a few minutes later, hoisting Eleanor’s body up onto the dock toward waiting hands.

  ****

  “Everything fell out of me.” Margaret said the next day to the reporter.

  “This idiot will be located and prosecuted.” William’s voice was sharp and shrill. “We have every policeman in Sullivan County searching for him. What kind of a fool hits golf balls toward a crowded waterfront after dark?”

  “Yes, I saw it hit her. I’m sure it was a golf ball,” Gracie told another reporter from the Sullivan Review. “No, I’m not the one who went in after her,” she said, ashamed. “I can’t swim. It was Bessie…I’m sorry…I don’t know her last name. She’s been on staff here for five years. No, I don’t know where she is now.”

  ****

  The late afternoon sun cast gold and silver gemstones on the water as William and Margaret Woods stood on the Crestmont dock, looking at the spot where Eleanor had gone under.

  “I wonder how many other golf balls that lunatic drove into this lake. I blame myself. I should have seen him on the lawn. Surely it wasn’t one of our guests,” William said.

  “We should go back.”

  “She wanted Gracie to sit with her. Try to breathe, Margaret.”

  “I never even saw her on the float.”

  William comforted her. “Dr. Webber said she’ll be fine. Just a day in bed and she’ll have a full recovery.”

  “Thank God for Bessie.”

  “Yes, thank God for Bessie.”

  Margaret pressed her face into her husband’s shoulder and sobbed.

  ****

  William breathed in the sweet smell of newly mowed grass the next Saturday evening as he made his way from the garage up to the big house. Hank waved to his boss from behind the lawnmower on the top of the back lawn. “Do it while they are eating,” William always said to his lawn boys, “so as not to interfere with the guests’ time on the grounds.” He was pleased to see Hank taking the initiative without a reminder.

  The valet parking William had instituted the year before was a boon to their business. Dinner reservations doubled from people living in the surrounding area because parking was not a concern. Otto had waved his boss away when William went to check on the overflow of cars in the parking lot. “I’ve got it covered, boss,” was the most comforting thing William had heard all week.

  The police had searched since last Saturday and never found a suspect for the golf ball incident. They let the matter drop, since no one had been badly hurt.

  After Eleanor’s accident, the staff had really pulled together. Apparently they sensed that the Woods needed to funnel their energy into recovering from the shock. William wondered if some of them felt responsible. Eleanor, after all, was not supposed to have been on the float. Knowing his daughter, he assumed she had finagled a way to go aboard without anyone else knowing until they had joined the flotilla. At that point, the staffers had probably turned a blind eye. He blamed none of them and was grateful that Eleanor was back to her sweet, rambunctious self, seemingly unaffected by the bizarre incident.

  There was a gracious outpouring of concern from the town and the guests. The Woods received cards and telephone calls aplenty. Eleanor was given so many gifts of candy that Margaret had begun hiding it so her daughter wouldn’t get sick.

  William stuck his nose in the dining room. The waitresses were really hopping to keep the food service moving. He basked in pride watching his wife. She expertly flowed from escorting incoming people to their tables to inquiring of those eating dessert about their dinners.

  Margaret chatted with two older couples who were finishing apple crisp and coffee at a choice table near the fireplace. They had driven two hours to come to the Crestmont for an anniversary dinner. When she inquired about how they had enjoyed their meal, they responded with murmurs of satisfaction. The younger of the two women abruptly pushed her chair back, knocking over her cup and saucer. Coffee splattered all over the tablecloth. The other three diners jumped up, startled.

  “Liar! Liar! Liar!”

  She berated her companions one by one, flinging reproachful fingers in their faces. Shamefaced, they averted their eyes while their accuser informed Margaret that they had grumbled about the food from appetizer through dessert. Graciously offering to refund the cost of their dinners, Margaret calmly escorted them out of the dining room.

  When she returned, Dorothy had already cleaned up the broken china and stained cloth and was wiping the table clean. Margaret pulled a newly starched tablecloth from the shelf next to the china cabinet and shook it out before she lay in on the table. It flew out of her hands and landed in the fire. Instinctively, she reached into the fireplace to pull out the burning cloth. Dropping it onto the hearth before she burned herself, she stamped on it until the flames were gone.

  The remaining diners burst into appl
ause shouting “Bravo, Mrs. Woods!” A blush crept over her face. She sank into a deep bow.

  ****

  “Is this what they call a date?” Eleanor sat with her ankles crossed in the blue lace dress her mother had worked so hard to get the tomato stains out of. Gracie and Peg sat on either side of her on the front porch swing of the Crestmont, waiting for Eric to pick them up in his family’s car.

  “It’s only a date when there are two people, nincompoop,” Peg said.

  “Well, where is he?”

  “Eleanor, Eric was nice enough to ask us to come along, so don’t fuss about the time when he gets here.”

  “Well, we shouldn’t be dilly-dallying. You know those summer people all march their kids down to the Sweet Shoppe right at six-thirty after supper. If we don’t get there before them we’re going to have to wait in line.”

  Gracie opened her purse, checked herself in the mirror and dabbed her nose with powder. “Well, I’m glad he asked you both to come along.” Gracie tickled the tip of Eleanor’s nose playfully with the velour powder puff. “It makes it a special birthday for me.”

  “So you turn twenty-four today, Gracie? Wow, that’s more than twice my age.” Eleanor said, proud of her arithmetic skills. “How old is Eric?”

  “Well, he just graduated from college, so I guess he’s probably twenty-two.”

  “Is that allowed?”

  “What are you talking about?” Peg said, annoyed.

  “For Gracie to…go on a date. Can a girl go around with a boy that’s younger?”

  “Yes, it’s allowed, Eleanor.” Gracie laughed. “But Eric and I are not ‘going around.’ We’re just friends.”

  “But you went over to his house for dinner. And I know you like him.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  Gracie saw the sincerity on the girl’s face and decided she been asked a very grown-up question. “Well, I guess it’s because I feel like he sees all of me, not just the part I think he would like, and he likes me anyway.”

  Eleanor nodded her head knowingly. “That’s a very good reason.” His car wound up the driveway.

  Peg rolled her eyes and said, “Hush. Here he is.”

  Several people had gotten there ahead of them, so Eric dropped Gracie and Peg off to save a spot in line at the ice cream shop.

  “Peg, would you give me some swimming lessons?” Gracie asked as they stood waiting. “But don’t expect me to be a very good student. I’m really afraid of the water. I was paralyzed when I saw Eleanor go in after she got hit with that golf ball. If Bessie hadn’t gone in after her…”

  “It’s okay, Gracie. We’ll take it slow. You’ll do fine. I’ll have you swimming races by next year’s water carnival.”

  “Thanks. I did buy a bathing suit at least.”

  Meanwhile, Eleanor had wanted to stay in the car with Eric and felt it was her job to come up with something to talk about.

  “Did you hear that my mama put out a fire in the dining room last night? All the guests clapped for her.”

  “You must be very proud of your mother.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Eric turned into the driveway of the parsonage next to the church.

  “Do you remember that lady, Mrs. Cunningham, who died in March? Gracie said she was like a grandmother to her. I miss her, too, but I know she will always stay in our hearts. I’ll bet she’s talking to my Grampa Warner right now in heaven.”

  “You have very mature thoughts for a girl your age, Eleanor.”

  “Really?” She chewed on her lip, studying the side window awkwardly so he couldn’t see her glow. Then Eric came around to open the car door and the two of them walked the half block down to meet Peg and Gracie.

  “I’m sorry, we’re out of pistachio,” the girl at the Sweet Shoppe said when Eleanor placed her order at the window.

  “That’s okay. I’m sick of ice cream anyway. I’ll try one of those new Reese’s peanut butter cups.”

  Pots of pink and purple petunias dotted the tiny patio behind the ice cream shop. Gracie saved seats at a round glass-topped table surrounded by four wrought iron chairs. Eleanor swooped up a straw hat with a yellow ribbon that had been left on the ground and placed it lovingly on Gracie’s blonde head. “For the birthday girl.”

  Eric handed Gracie a double strawberry cone. “For the birthday girl.” Peg lifted her chocolate cone toward Gracie as in a toast. Eleanor’s eyes never left Eric’s face while she ate her candy.

  “My degree is in Civil Engineering,” Eric explained when Peg asked him what his plans were now that he was done at Princeton, “but I am really interested in a new field where people work to improve the environment.”

  “Huh?” Eleanor asked, licking the last of the chocolate off the orange and brown paper.

  “I’m sure you know how the people of Eagles Mere bought the lake and the land around it to protect it from people just coming in and throwing their garbage or whatever into it. What I’d like to do is something similar. I’ll be helping cities and towns keep their water supplies pure. Find ways to get the water into the towns so people can use it.”

  “Like the water tower in back of the Crestmont supplies the town,” Gracie noted.

  “Precisely.”

  “If you get a job like that, can you stay in Eagles Mere?” Eleanor asked.

  “Well, I’m sure I could live here, but I’ll probably have to travel around a lot.”

  He checked Gracie’s reaction, but she was distracted by a child crying when the top of her triple cone plopped on the flagstones. Shadow appeared and calmly licked up the vanilla ice cream. After cleaning its face, the cat jumped up into Eric’s lap. Gracie smiled longingly at it.

  “Oh.” Eric laughed. “You wanted the cat on your lap. I thought you knew it was ours. Shadow is very independent and my mother says she likes it that way.”

  ****

  An entire year had gone by since Rosa Ponselle had relaxed in the Adirondack chair, complimenting Margaret’s flowers. Margaret finally asked William to move the chair into their private garden so she could indulge herself a bit. This afternoon, after gathering flowers for the lobby arrangement, she sat enjoying the fragrance the breeze brought her way. Adelle was hostessing dinner and Margaret was free of responsibilities.

  Had it really been a week since Eleanor’s accident? She thanked God that her daughter was safe. Then she said a prayer for Bessie. The young woman had packed up her belongings and left mysteriously the next day without telling anyone where she was going. The Woods deeply regretted missing the opportunity to thank her for her heroic act.

  Taking off her shoes, Margaret dug her toes into the moist grass. The late afternoon sun cast a shadow just before the five on the sundial.

  She reviewed what had happened at dinner last night. She was astounded the guests had applauded so enthusiastically for her when she pulled the tablecloth out of the fire. They were too kind to point out that it would have been better to simply let the silly thing burn up. She realized they loved her.

  Why had she never noticed? She supposed she put so much effort into ensuring their happiness that she was never open to receiving any of the blessings they sent her way. She was thankful they had finally punctured her armor.

  The familiar butterfly with iridescent blue markings on its wings hovered above her big toe, then alighted on the sundial. Margaret gazed at it for a long time. Her face melted into a comforting softness.

  “I suppose I have found the 440 you encouraged me to find, Daddy. Now I have to cultivate it. For me, it is not about an afternoon nap, but rather learning to enjoy the people who love this place as much as we do.”

  ****

  “We’ve never done this before,” Gracie said on Labor Day weekend.

  “Done what?” PT asked, his long legs propped up as usual on the laundry porch railing, with his ankles crossed.

  “Said goodbye at the end of the summer.”

  “You razzing me, woman?”
>
  “Well, you deserve it.”

  “Suppose I do.”

  They sat side by side on the rockers they had repositioned so they could look straight up toward the big house, sipping root beers they had carried down from the kitchen after Gracie said tearful goodbyes to Isaiah, Olivia and Sam.

  PT squinted up at the filigree that hung from the rafters. “Always liked that curlicue woodworking on this porch.”

  “Me too,” Gracie said.

  “Sure are good people.” He flicked his finger toward the big brown inn on the hill. “Mr. Woods is a man I truly respect. He’s trusted me with a lot of responsibility through the years. “Hate to leave him,” he said, fiddling with his pocket watch, “but there’s somebody from way back I might want to track down.”

  “Who?”

  “A guy named Warren Sloan. He hired me to work in his bowling alley when I was a green kid.” PT opened the watch and wound it slowly. “Gave me this as a sign of good faith. Took me under his wing and let me be my own man.”

  Gracie leaned forward, hoping to find out more.

  “I always wondered if he replaced those pin boys.”

  “What pin boys?”

  “He was going to invent a machine to reset the pins in a bowling alley. I wonder if he ever did. He kept talking about kissing the pin boys goodbye,” he chuckled.

  “You should go find out.”

  “Just might. It’s complicated, though. Some other guy had me in a vise. A piano teacher in Philly was trying to turn me into a concert pianist. I was a trapped kid, so I skipped town without telling Sloan. Never said thank you for all he did for me. That was a long time ago. Who knows what he thinks of me now.”

  “You could go find him. It would be good for you.”

  “Not used to doing what’s good for me.” He grinned at her. “Except coming here.”

  “PT, you can always come back here. The Woods love you.”