by Mary Daheim
“Wild,” exclaimed Judith. “This is unreal!”
Renie also was looking stunned. “It sure is! When Bill and I were here with the kids six, seven years ago, they were just getting started. It was nice, but it wasn’t…Techno-Innsbruck! I don’t know how else to describe it.”
Neither did Judith. The sun was warm, but the air felt fresh. Cars weren’t allowed inside the village. The cousins left the big parking lot, carefully following Renie’s map. They crossed a spacious square, where young people skateboarded, dogs drank from water troughs, a mime entertained bench-squatters, artists sketched various subjects, including one another, and three exuberant youths tied multicolored balloons to the patio of a French restaurant. There were flowers everywhere, bright red and yellow and green splashes of color in planters, window boxes, and tiny garden plots. Judith’s head swiveled this way and that as she took in the various shops featuring ski clothes, jewelry, sports equipment, designer fashions, leather goods, and the inevitable souvenirs.
Next to the snowboard shop, the cousins found the condo offices. They expected the usual red tape associated with real estate promotions, but instead they were given a map showing them where to find their lodgings, a forty-five-minute sales pitch scheduled for the following day at 11 A.M., and a fifty percent discount for one of Bugler’s finest restaurants.
“Wow,” breathed Renie as they exited back into the town square, “even if we have to sleep in a broom closet, we’re ahead of the game. I paid the tax in advance, and I can get that back from the Canadian guest rebate.”
Judith barely heard her cousin. She was too exhilarated by the zestful crowds of every nationality and by the exuberant atmosphere. The informational brochure listed a myriad of off-season activities. The Country & Blues Festival had been held the first weekend in August, followed by a classical-music gala. Summer in Bugler might be warm, but it was stimulating. Judith had a sudden itch to rent a pair of skis and take a run down Fiddler Mountain—except that she didn’t know a stem Christie from a telemark.
Back in the Chevy, the cousins carefully studied their map. “We’re way up at the top of the town,” Renie noted. “I suppose it’s a new complex, with rooms the size of your mother’s toolshed. We’ll probably have to use concrete blocks and packing crates for furniture.”
“That’s okay,” Judith responded as Renie drove out of the parking lot and headed back to the highway. “The family cabin isn’t much fancier.”
“True,” Renie agreed, “but we’re going up to the newer part of the resort, the Fiddler section. It didn’t even exist when we were here in the mid-eighties.”
Still mesmerized, Judith observed the new construction that was under way near the highway. Apparently a huge shopping mall and hotel were abuilding. Indeed, it seemed that everywhere she looked, individual and multiple structures were being added to the Bugler scene. One stood out from the rest: A large red, square edifice with a Canadian flag sat near the conjunction of the road into Bugler and the main highway.
“What’s that?” asked Judith. “It looks…different.”
Renie glanced to her left. “That’s the police and fire headquarters. It was already here when we came up the first time. It doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the architecture, but I figure that’s on purpose, so that everybody knows where to go if there’s trouble.”
Judith uttered a strange chuckle. “Trouble? What kind of trouble could there be in a place like this?”
Renie shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Theft, I suppose. Domestic squabbles. Drugs. This isn’t paradise, even if it looks like it. People are still people, no matter who they are or where they come from.”
Renie’s comments didn’t bother Judith. “If this isn’t paradise, I don’t know what is. Visitors come here to have fun. They aren’t in the mood for trouble. I’d guess that shoplifting is the biggest crime in Bugler.”
Turning onto the road that led up the side of Fiddler Mountain, Renie slowed the car. “Most of the tourists who stay at Bugler are rich. They aren’t prone to the sort of crimes that the lesser classes embrace. You know, people like us, who are getting freebies.” She darted Judith a pixie grin.
Judith laughed. “Right. The Broom Closet Condo. Maybe we should have brought sleeping bags and a portable toilet.”
“I wonder,” mused Renie as they wound back and forth, climbing up the mountain.
And then they were there, at the condo marked “X,” high on Fiddler Mountain, overlooking the entire resort complex and the valley beyond. There were other complexes to the right of them, complexes to the left of them, bulldozers and tractors and concrete mixers farther up the road. But their destination, Clarges Court, welcomed them with a discreet sign to approach the underground parking and punch their security code into the machine at the edge of the curving drive.
Renie did so. The steel net gate rose efficiently. The cousins slipped inside, looking for Number 3-A. There were two slots, not just one, available to them. Renie angled the Chevy into the parking place. Removing their luggage, they approached the door. It wasn’t locked. Judith and Renie ignored the closed door on their left and ascended the carpeted stairs. They dropped their luggage. They gasped. They squealed with delight.
Number 3-A of the Clarges Court condos was luxurious beyond their wildest dreams. There were two big bedrooms upstairs, a living room, a sunken family room, a kitchen with every efficiency, and a dining room with a table laid out to accommodate an elegant dinner for six. There were three bathrooms upstairs, and when the cousins had charged back down to the lower floor, they discovered yet another living room, a laundry room, a sunken bath, and two more bedrooms. There was a patio for enjoying the scenery. Outside the front door, just off the beautifully landscaped inner garden, were a hot tub and a swimming pool. Although not air-conditioned, the condo was blessedly cool with a soothing color scheme of mauve, teal, and beige. Like children, the cousins clutched each other and jumped up and down.
“The view!” shrieked Renie, overcome by the panorama of mountains, trees, and sky. “We can see all over the valley and the town!”
“The table!” cried Judith, taking in the glass dining room table with its elegant appointments that included mauve linen napkins artistically folded into crystal wineglasses. “I’ve got to shop! I feel like making a big dinner! Steak and baked potatoes and corn on the cob and fresh bread!”
Hesitating, Renie surveyed the table setting over her shoulder. “Well—yes. It sounds great, but we’ve got our discount dinner, right?”
Judith settled down, too. “Yes. And we could eat at several really great places. Maybe we’d better save staying in for our last night. Let’s check the restaurant guide before we get out of control.”
The cousins unpacked first, each taking a separate bedroom with its own bath and TV set. Judith’s room was the larger of the two, with a king-sized bed and a view overlooking the inner courtyard; Renie had twin beds, but a panoramic view of the valley to the north.
Still smiling, Judith emerged from her luxurious boudoir. “I can see a pitcher of lemonade out on the picnic table in the courtyard. Why don’t we get into our bathing suits, grab a couple of glasses, and have a quick swim?”
“Bathing suits? Swim?” Renie feigned ignorance. She’d never learned to swim, but Judith had spent many hours with Mike in public pools. It was one form of recreation that mother and son could afford—because it was free. Still, the cousins had held a lengthy discussion about whether or not to pack bathing suits.
“Oh, come on, coz,” Judith urged. “I brought my suit. You can dog-paddle in the shallow end.”
Renie gave in. Ten minutes later, the cousins were relaxing in the small, kidney-shaped pool. For the time being, they were the only guests in the communal patio area.
“This is heaven.” Judith sighed, letting the water lap up to her chin.
“Utter bliss,” Renie agreed, splashing lazily with her legs.
“I don’t feel guilty anymore,” Judith decla
red. “Joe’s all wrapped up in that tavern homicide, Arlene’s perfectly competent, Mike called last night to say everything was going well with him, and even Mother wasn’t too upset about me going away, because the Rankerses will pamper her and she’s playing cards tomorrow.”
Renie nodded, her not-so-attractive new haircut now plastered against her head. Water hadn’t improved it. But then, neither did combing, thought Judith.
“We deserve a break,” Renie remarked. “My last two clients nearly drove me nuts. They both kept changing their minds, first about the concept, then about the design itself. And they wouldn’t listen to advice. Jeez, I’ve been a graphic designer for almost thirty years! I swore I’d take up wallpapering after I got rid of those two! But,” Renie went on, again growing mellow, “this is even better.”
“It sure is.” Judith allowed herself to bob around in the water, her face turned up to the sun. “It’s so quiet inside the condos, despite all the tourists staying here. It’s like a dream.”
The dream was shattered by the barking of a dog. Over the fence, across the flagstones, and into the pool jumped the animal, splashing both Judith and Renie. The dog rose to the surface and began paddling toward Judith. She dove under the surface and swam to the deep end.
Judith gave Renie a wry grin as the dog swam in circles. “I doubt that dogs are allowed in the pool. I wonder who owns this thing.” Her dark eyes narrowed as the dog again approached her. “Call me crazy, but he looks a lot like that wretched Rover. Is this the year of the Pomeranian?”
Renie remained at the shallow end, inching her way up the steps to poolside. “I thought this season’s dog of choice was a Chow. Maybe that’s only on Heraldsgate Hill.”
The dog in the pool was making great waves, splashing and yapping, destroying the tranquil mood and getting water in Judith’s eyes. She swam back toward Renie, trying to keep away from the animal. By the time she reached the other end of the pool, Renie was out of the water, toweling off. The dog was still swimming back and forth, barking intermittently.
“Well, we can’t have everything,” Judith murmured, rubbing her hair with a fluffy ivory towel. “Let’s finish our lemonade and then decide where we’re going to eat—”
An apparition was coming through the gate that led to the pool area. Swathed in layers of gauzy white linen and wearing a high-brimmed straw hat and big sunglasses, the figure looked like a Hollywood swami. Judith couldn’t help but stare. She just plain gaped when she noticed the two other people who followed at a respectful distance.
Agnes Shay wore a modest brown bathing suit that wouldn’t have revealed much of her figure even if she’d had one. Freddy Whobrey’s red Speedo was unfortunate in every way: Freddy’s skinny body displayed his ribs, his bowlegs, his knobby knees, his puny, hairless chest.
But it was the presence of Dagmar Delacroix Chatsworth, in her mobile linen tent, that shocked Judith the most. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that her path would ever again cross Dagmar’s. Yet here she was, or so Judith assumed, since it was almost impossible to be sure until Dagmar whipped off her big sunglasses.
“You!” she cried, a finger emerging from the sleeve of her beach costume. “You look like someone! Who is it?”
Judith draped the towel over her wide shoulders. Fleetingly, she wondered if she should lie. But a gossip columnist must have a good memory for faces, no matter how obscure. Judith identified herself, and reluctantly introduced Renie.
“Well!” Dagmar smirked at the cousins. “This is a coincidence! What on earth are you doing at Bugler?”
Again Judith considered deceit, but Renie apparently didn’t care about saving face. “I entered a drawing at the local fish ’n’ chips shop. I won a free stay. How about you?”
Dagmar rolled her eyes, then replaced her sunglasses. “I concluded my book tour in Port Royal over the weekend. My publisher has a condo here in Clarges Court. I’m his guest. Rover has his own suite. He’s letting Agnes stay with him.” She beamed at the dog, who had concluded frisking in the pool and was now shaking himself all over the cousins.
Renie was making a face at Rover, and looking very much as if she’d like to give him a swift kick. Knowing her cousin’s unpredictable temper, Judith started to make excuses for their departure. But Dagmar raised a pink hand.
“Do have a martini. Karl and Tessa are bringing them. They shouldn’t be a minute.”
Judith hesitated. She didn’t enjoy drinking hard liquor in the sun. And Renie hated gin. “We just arrived. Maybe later, after dinner…”
But Dagmar wouldn’t be put off. “Agnes!” she shouted, despite the fact that the secretary had just jumped into the pool with Freddy. “Fetch those drinks! Karl must still be on the phone.” Enthroning herself in a high-backed wicker garden chair, Dagmar favored the cousins with a confidential smile. “Karl Kreager is one of the most powerful men in the publishing industry. You’ve heard of him, I’m sure.”
Judith had, but only in the vaguest sort of way. The wealthy Kreager Klan, as they were known in the press, had been intermittent newsmakers for two generations. Judith wasn’t exactly sure why, except that they were rich and sometimes colorful.
Renie, however, was better acquainted with the world of publishing because of her connections in the graphic design business. “Midwestern origins,” she said, still scowling at Rover, who had curled up on his own monogrammed beach towel. “Big family, Nordic good looks, scads of money. Newspapers as well as books, right?”
Dagmar nodded once, the brim of her straw hat all but covering her face. “An empire, including magazines, radio and TV stations, and perhaps a movie studio soon. Karl’s wife, Tessa, is my editor. They’re so kind. But, of course, I make them rich. My book’s been on The New York Times best-seller list since it came out last month.” She looked up at Renie. “You’ve read it, of course?”
Renie stepped aside as Agnes scurried past, carefully balancing a tray with a martini shaker and a half-dozen glasses. “I read only the classics,” Renie replied with a little yawn. “Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons is really keeping me up at night. I’m just nuts about nihilism.”
“Really!” Dagmar shuddered under her folds of white linen. Behind her sunglasses, she appeared to be staring at Renie as if she expected a call to anarchy at any moment. But the sight of the martini shaker seemed to soothe her. “I’ll have two olives, Agnes. And give one to Rover.”
The secretary dutifully served Dagmar her drink, fed the dog his olive, and offered hospitality to the cousins. They both declined, saying they still had to finish their lemonade. When no further commands were issued, Agnes crept back to the pool.
Dagmar sighed. “Pitiful creature. She needs to create other interests for herself. A hobby, maybe. Like stamps.”
Judith felt compelled to linger, if only to make good on her vow to finish the glass of lemonade. She sat down on a metal lounge chair next to Dagmar, but Renie excused herself, saying she had to call her mother. That, Judith knew, was probably true. No matter where Renie had gone or what she was doing, Aunt Deb insisted on at least one phone call a day from her only daughter. Renie swore that if she were stranded at the North Pole, she’d have to commandeer a dogsled and mush to the nearest payphone.
“Did you read my column this morning?” Dagmar inquired, popping an olive into her mouth.
Judith had to confess that she’d merely scanned it. “I was in a rush, getting everything organized at the B&B and packing for the trip up here.”
Dagmar waved a languid hand. “It wasn’t as scathing as some. There are so many distractions when I’m on tour. Besides, I have to be careful not to top myself while the book is still fresh. It contains so many shocking revelations.”
Judith saw Freddy bound out of the pool and make a beeline for the martini shaker. She nodded and smiled. He poured himself a drink and sat down next to her on the chair. There wouldn’t have been room for a larger man. Judith was annoyed by his nearness, especially since he was soaking wet and sh
e was almost dried off.
“Hey, sweetheart, isn’t fate great?” he enthused. “I never expected to see you again. How about going dancing this evening? Bugler has some terrific nightspots.”
Judith was spared a response by Dagmar’s intervention. “Now, Freddy,” the gossip columnist said sternly, “we have our celebratory dinner with the Kreagers tonight. You can save your partying for another time.”
Freddy’s ferretlike face puckered. “Oh, Aunt Dagmar, be a sport! We don’t have to spend the whole night with the Kreagers. Hey, you’re the guest of honor, not me.”
Dagmar reached over and patted his knobby knee. “Now, now, Freddy. Karl and Tessa think you’re adorable. They’d be utterly devastated if you weren’t there for the whole evening. You won’t want to miss dessert.”
Freddy leered at Judith, showing his pointed teeth. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Judith drew away from him, almost falling off the metal chair. “My cousin and I plan to make an early night of it. We’re both beat. It’s a long drive from home.”
“Early to bed, early to rise.” Freddy glanced down at his red Speedo. “If you know what I mean.” He winked and nudged Judith with his bony elbow.
Judith leaped up from the chair. “I really must get back to the condo. Renie will be wondering if I’ve been…kidnapped. Or something. Enjoy your stay.” She all but ran toward the gate.
But the Kreagers were just arriving. Or so Judith realized when she heard Dagmar’s effusive voice calling out to the handsome couple who were approaching the pool.
“Mrs. Flynn!” Dagmar’s tone turned imperious. “Stay a moment! You must meet Karl and Tessa!”