by Joy Fielding
“Looks as if our resident asshole went fishing earlier than originally planned,” Val muttered to her companions, steering them toward the dining room.
“Excuse me,” a voice called from behind them.
Val turned back to see the young woman hurrying toward them. The closer she got, the more swollen her face appeared, the red rimming her eyes matching the quarter-size blotches that stained her skin like large freckles. Her auburn hair was pulled off her face into a ponytail and secured at the sides by two large bobby pins, clearly a matter of convenience over style.
“Excuse me,” she said again. “I’m so sorry to bother you but …”
“Yes?” Val asked.
“My name is Alicia Gowan. I think my husband and I were sitting at the table next to yours last night at dinner.”
Val pretended to mull this over. “Oh, yes. I think that’s right.”
“Have you seen him? My husband? Since then, I mean?”
“No, I’m afraid we haven’t.” Val looked toward James and Melissa for confirmation.
“No,” Melissa concurred.
“Is there a problem?” asked James.
“We had a fight.” Fresh tears filled Alicia Gowan’s eyes and fell down her cheeks. “Not even a fight, really. Just a stupid argument. Well, I’m sure you heard it …”
“No,” Val, Melissa, and James all said together, perhaps a beat too quickly.
“I told him I wouldn’t talk to him again until he apologized. Stupid, right? I mean, what good is an apology when someone isn’t sorry?”
Val nodded, deciding to say nothing. There is nothing I can say to this woman that will make her feel any better, she thought.
“Anyway,” the woman continued, unprompted, “he was really angry, said I’d embarrassed him in front of the whole dining room, and that started another argument, and he stormed out. That was around two o’clock this morning. And I waited for him to come back, but he didn’t, and I guess I fell asleep because suddenly it was morning, and he still wasn’t back. So I waited and waited. And then I thought maybe he went back to the city. But his car keys are still here, and I checked the parking lot, and our car is right where we left it. I even looked in the backseat, in case he slept there.” She shook her head. “So then I thought, Well, maybe he hitched a ride back to New York. But I know David. He would never do that. He wouldn’t just leave and not tell me, no matter how angry he was. And he’s not answering his cell. And the concierge hasn’t seen him. The receptionist hasn’t seen him. None of the waiters has seen him. You haven’t seen him,” she said, as if this were the ultimate proof that her husband was truly missing.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Val said, although she was sure of no such thing.
“Maybe he went to another motel,” Melissa offered.
Val thought this was highly unlikely since they both knew there were no vacancies in the vicinity.
“Or maybe he just curled up in a chair somewhere on the grounds and fell asleep,” James said.
“You’re right,” Alicia said. “I’m probably overreacting. But if you should happen to see him …”
“We’ll chew him out good and tell him to get his ass back to you pronto,” James said.
Alicia tried to smile, but her lips were quivering too much to stay still.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Val said again, although she was no surer this time than she’d been the last time she’d said it.
“Mrs. Gowan?” a soothing voice asked.
Everyone turned toward the sound.
The manager, a round little man named Edward Cotton, stood before them, a sympathetic smile on his reassuringly bland face. “I understand there’s a problem?”
“My husband didn’t come back to the room last night,” Alicia began immediately.
“Perhaps we should discuss this in my office.”
“Keep us posted,” Val said as the manager led the distraught woman away.
* * *
THE PARK RANGERS were in the lobby interviewing Alicia Gowan when Val and her friends returned from breakfast.
“Looks like he still hasn’t shown up,” Melissa commented.
“Do you think maybe a bear got him?” James whispered as they walked past.
“I think it’s more likely that a bar got him,” Melissa said. “He probably drank himself into a stupor and is somewhere sleeping it off.”
Val tried—and failed—not to picture her mother sprawled unconscious in the alley behind her apartment building. She made a silent vow never to take another drink.
“Ten bucks says Sleeping Beauty’s still asleep,” James said as they entered their suite.
Jennifer was sitting on the living room sofa, rifling through the latest issue of New York magazine. She was still dressed in her pretty pink exercise outfit, and her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and secured by a pink scrunchie.
How is it possible to look so glamorous after exercising? Val wondered. “Where’s Brianne?”
“I assumed she was with you.”
“How long have you been here?”
“About ten minutes.”
“She probably went downstairs for breakfast,” Melissa said.
“We must have just missed her,” said James.
Jennifer put down her magazine. “Why don’t I see if I can find her?” She was clearly eager to put as much distance between her and the others as possible.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you,” Val said as Jennifer left the room.
A few minutes later, a series of familiar chimes filled the air. Val followed the sound into the bedroom, her hand rifling under the sheets of Brianne’s bed and emerging seconds later with her daughter’s BlackBerry. “Honestly, sometimes I think she’d lose her head if it weren’t attached …” She glanced at the incoming message.
Last night was something else, she read. Can’t wait to do it again. What the hell did that mean?
“Is it from Evan?” James asked from the doorway.
“No. There’s no name. Just a number.”
The door to the suite suddenly opened and Brianne burst into the bedroom as if someone were chasing her, stopping abruptly when she saw her BlackBerry in her mother’s hands.
“Forget something?” Val asked.
“Give me that,” Brianne said. “It’s mine.”
“Last night was something else,” Val recited from memory. “Can’t wait to do it again?”
“You have no right to read my messages.”
“What does it mean, last night was something else?”
“It doesn’t mean anything. Sasha went to this club I told her about. Obviously she had a good time. What’s the big deal?”
“Sasha?”
“Yes, Sasha. She who works at Lululemon and drives an orange Mustang.” Brianne reached for her BlackBerry. Val quickly moved it behind her back. “What are you doing? Give it to me.”
“Why? You don’t take very good care of it.”
“It’s your fault I forgot it,” Brianne countered. “You made me rush.”
Val shook her head. “Okay, fine. It’s my fault. But there’s been enough texting for one trip. The BlackBerry stays with me until your father gets here.”
“Oh, for crap’s sake. Why don’t you just chill? Have another drink, Grandma,” she said with an audible sneer.
“Okay, Brianne. I think that’s quite enough.”
“You want to know what I think?” Brianne snapped. “I think Dad got out just in time.”
Val wasn’t sure of the precise order of the events that followed. She felt both arms moving at once, one hand hurling the BlackBerry toward the far wall just as Jennifer walked back into the room, the other hand connecting solidly with Brianne’s cheek. “She’s not in the dining room,” Jennifer was saying as the BlackBerry flew past her ear, missing her by inches.
And then everybody was screaming.
TEN
OKAY, SO HOW WOULD you describe this if you were writing abo
ut it for the New York Times?” James asked as the three friends made their way along the steep, forested ridges of Prospect Mountain.
Val stopped on a large flat rock overlooking the valley, adjusting the wide-brimmed Tilley hat she’d purchased at the hotel gift shop earlier that morning. “I’d probably say something like ‘The spectacular view includes the thirty-two-mile-long expanse of crystal-clean, sparkling blue waters of Lake George some two-thousand-plus feet below, along with mile after mile of fragrant evergreens and an assortment of broadleaf trees that shoot from the sides of the surrounding mountains like fireworks.’ ”
James removed his own new hat, waving it up and down in front of his face as if it were a fan. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
“It really is spectacular.” Melissa’s eyes scanned the horizon from underneath the rim of her black baseball cap, with its Welcome to the Adirondacks logo emblazoned in red across it. “Although I’m surprised it’s so hot.”
“That’s what you get for wearing a black T-shirt,” Val said. “You know black holds the heat. How are the shoes?” Val had taken her friends to one of the hotel’s many shops to buy suitable clothes and shoes for their hike around Prospect Mountain, charging their various purchases to the room. It was, she’d decided, the least Evan could do after the horrific scene with their daughter earlier this morning.
“The shoes are great,” Melissa said. “It’s my feet that are killing me.”
“My calves are starting to cramp,” James complained.
“You’re a dancer,” Val reminded him. “Shouldn’t you be used to exercise?”
“I’m used to dancing, not climbing. And I’m retired, remember? The only exercise I get these days is searching out fine pieces of vintage costume jewelry.”
Melissa concurred. “There’s not a lot of climbing in costume jewelry.”
“So tell us more about the fascinating world of flora,” James urged, squatting on a large piece of rough stone and trying to make himself comfortable.
“You just want to sit down.”
“True enough. So shoot me. These legs need a break.”
“Mine, too,” Melissa said. “How about we take a five-minute recess?”
“We’ve been up here for almost two hours. That’s enough wilderness for this queer city boy. How about we just head back to the lodge? That’s where all the fun stuff is happening.”
“I think I’ve had enough fun for a while,” Val said.
“Ah, but you were magnificent. Wasn’t she, Melissa?” James asked. “The way that BlackBerry went flying across the room …”
“Almost decapitating poor Jennifer,” Melissa said wistfully.
“… who screamed almost as loud as Brianne.”
“Nobody screams as loud as Brianne,” Val said, trying to block out the memory of those awful sounds. “I can’t believe I actually slapped her.”
“She had it coming,” Melissa said. “I almost slapped her myself.”
“She hates me.”
“She’s sixteen,” Melissa reminded her. “She’s supposed to hate you.”
“I shouldn’t have left her alone. I should have insisted she come with us.”
“Which would have made this hike even more fun,” James said.
“Besides, she’s not alone,” Melissa reminded her. “She’s with Jennifer.”
“Great. Her new best friend. And when did we stop calling her ‘the Slut’?”
“Sorry about that. Would you rather she hated her?”
“Better her than me.”
“Then you have to lay off the sarcasm and start killing her with kindness,” Melissa said. “That’s what I did with mother-in-law number two.”
Val regarded her friend quizzically, waiting for her to continue.
Melissa quickly obliged. “She was this old battle-axe. Hated me from the word go. Made my life a living hell. At first I fought back, but it only seemed to excite her. Like it was a contest, who could get in the most zingers in the shortest amount of time. Then one day I just decided I wasn’t going to play that game anymore. Instead I was going to be the sweetest, nicest daughter-in-law a mother-in-law could possibly want. I was going to smother the old witch with compassion. And I did. Two months later, she had a heart attack and died. It was great.” Melissa’s smile filled the entire lower half of her face.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel good.”
“Is it working?”
“Yes.” Val laughed. “God, when did I become such an awful person?”
“You’ve always been awful,” James said.
“He’s right,” Melissa agreed. “You have.”
“Thanks, guys. I feel much better now.”
“Any time.”
“So, tell us more about wherever the hell it is we are so we can get the hell out of here.” James gestured toward the valley below. “You’ve got five minutes.”
Okay, Val thought, trying to recall enough geographical details of the area to take her mind off what had happened in the hotel room. “The Adirondack Park is the largest park in the continental United States,” she began, thinking of the times she and Evan had hiked through these very woods. “It’s shaped like a giant oval and is bigger than Yellowstone, Yosemite, Glacier, and the Grand Canyon combined. Six million acres, if you can imagine it. It’s actually larger than many of the neighboring states. A virtual tapestry of meadows, lakes, streams, woodlands, mountain peaks, and tiny villages.”
“A virtual tapestry,” James repeated. “That’s rather good.”
“If memory serves me, there are over five thousand public and private campsites in Lake George alone,” Val continued, poring through the invisible file cabinets in her brain where such bits of information were stored. She and Evan had been to at least half a dozen. Val knew these woods as well as she knew the streets of the city.
“And at least that many deer flies,” Melissa said, swatting several of the pesky insects away from her face and neck.
“Okay, I’ve definitely had enough splendor in the grass for now,” James said. “Time to drive back to the lodge and lounge around some civilized concrete and chlorine. I think I’ll even let Evan treat me to that sweet little bathing suit I saw in the gift shop this morning, the one with the leaping dolphins.”
“Oh, come on, guys. You don’t really want to go back yet …”
“Yes, we really do,” James said. “Don’t we, Melissa?”
Melissa nodded. “What’s that expression, too much of a good thing?”
Can you ever really have too much of a good thing? Val wondered, deciding not to protest. Her friends had been good-enough sports, postponing their own plans in order to accompany her to the mountains, agreeing to go hiking in order to get her away from Jennifer and Brianne long enough for everyone to calm down, supporting her when she acted like a jerk, which seemed to be most of the time lately, all the while trying to keep her spirits up and her sanity intact.
Too late for that, Val thought. “Okay, let’s head back.”
Which was when they heard the sound of rustling in the nearby trees.
“Please tell me that’s not a bear,” James said.
“If it is,” Val cautioned, “just stand very still and then start backing away slowly. Whatever you do, don’t run.”
“Are you joking? Is she joking?” James asked Melissa.
“And don’t climb a tree. Bears are great climbers.”
The rustling drew nearer.
“This is not happening,” said James, shouting out in fear as the leaves parted.
A young man suddenly appeared before them. Tall, muscular, smooth-skinned. He was wearing a checkered shirt and khaki pants and his long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. “Oh,” he said, seemingly as startled as they were. “Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
“They thought you were a bear,” James said.
The boy laughed. “Only when I’m hungry.”
Val fo
und herself staring at the dimples that creased the young man’s cheeks. I know those dimples, she thought, trying to figure out how that was possible. Is he a friend of Brianne’s? she wondered. He looked older than Brianne, but maybe they’d gone to the same school, or maybe even acted together in a school play. “Do I know you?” she asked, peering deep into his hazel eyes.
The boy returned her gaze with equal intensity. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I think you might know my daughter. Brianne. Brianne Rowe?”
He shook his head. “No. The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“She goes to Erasmus High in Brooklyn.”
“I’m from Connecticut.”
Connecticut? Val didn’t know anybody who lived in Connecticut. “Sorry. It’s just that you look so familiar to me.”
“Hayden,” a distant voice called out. “Where the hell are you?”
“Up here, Dad,” the boy called over the sound of branches being parted and sticks being trampled underfoot.
Seconds later, another figure emerged from the dense foliage. He was breathing heavily and his forehead glistened with the sweat of his recent exertions. “You gotta slow down, partner. Your old man’s not as young as he used to be. Hello,” he said upon seeing the others.
I don’t believe it, Val thought. What are the chances? “Gary?” she asked. “Gary Parker?”
“I’m sorry.” The man squinted through the sunlight. “Do I know you?”
Val whipped off her Tilley hat, giving a quick fluff to the matted hair beneath. “It’s Valerie. Valerie Marcus. Or, at least, it used to be Marcus. I went to Lincoln High. We were on the swim team together.”
“Oh, my God,” said Gary Parker. “It’s been … how long?”
“Must be twenty-five years.”
“Valerie Marcus,” he repeated with a shake of his head. “My God, how are you?”
“I’m fine. I can’t believe how much your son looks like you did at his age.”
“I can’t believe you remember.”
Neither can I, Val thought. Even though they’d been on the swim team together and had been in several of the same classes, they’d spoken maybe half a dozen sentences to each other during their entire tenure at Lincoln High. In fact, Gary Parker had probably said more to her in the last minute than he had their entire senior year. “These are my friends, James and Melissa.”