A Case of Bier

by Mary Daheim

  Despite the rocky start, the trip went well. Joe and Bill had taken turns driving, but they both balked at covering over six hundred miles in a single day. Besides, there was no point in reaching the Banff Springs Hotel until the afternoon check-in time. They’d spent Thursday night at a Best Western motel in Cranbrook, British Columbia, before making the short drive to the province of Alberta and their luxurious accommodations. On Friday morning, the farther east they traveled, the more spectacular they found the scenery. Lush forests, rugged mountains, and an occasional placid lake dazzled Judith.

  “Moose!” Renie shouted as they passed an alpine meadow. “Hey, everybody, give me a dollar.”

  Judith twisted her neck to look at her cousin. “Are you crazy? We aren’t playing that old travel game.”

  “We did when we were kids and made this trip the first time,” Renie responded with a pout that looked like it belonged to the era of the earlier vacation. “The winner got quarters back then. My father won and he did all the driving. You came in last because you were reading a book about juvenile delinquents. I don’t think you saw any bears or deer, let alone a moose. The only thing you spotted was some roadkill. A beaver, I think.”

  “Ten Million Delinquents,” Judith asserted. “That book was pretty far-out stuff back then. Raunchy, as we used to say. And Mother almost got kissed by a bear on that trip, but she rolled up the car window really fast.”

  Joe, who was driving, darted a glance at his wife. “That bear must’ve needed glasses.”

  “Grandeur!” Renie exclaimed. “That’s the word to describe the scenery. The majestic, verdant evergreen trees, the austere, craggy mountains, the glittering, jewel-like lakes! That’s the kind of language I’ll use when I design T-Nubile’s new brochures. They’ll foam at the mouth.”

  Bill, who had been napping, stared at his wife. “What has any of that got to do with telephone networks? I don’t see the rationale for your emotionally overwrought approach.”

  Renie stared back. “Who cares? I don’t aim for relevance, I aim for mood. If their mood is good, they pay me. Don’t use your psychobabble on me, Dr. Jones. I know it’s rubbish.”

  “My patients don’t,” Bill said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Hey, we must be almost to Banff. I’m glad I finished my nap in time.”

  Judith leaned forward. “I can see the hotel. It really does look like a Scottish castle. We’re in time for lunch.”

  “Yay!” Renie cried. “They have a fabulous restaurant. I’m starving.”

  “You usually are, coz,” Judith said good-naturedly. “I’m kind of hungry, too. It’s going on one.”

  Less than five minutes later they had turned off the Trans-Canada Highway and were on Banff Avenue. The Banff Springs Hotel was on the edge of town, benignly looming over the residents and the tourists who crowded the main street. Judith checked the map, giving Joe directions on how to get to the main entrance.

  As they approached their destination, Renie was bouncing in her seat. “I remember when we came here as kids, I wished we could’ve stayed at the hotel. All we got was a peek into the lobby.”

  “Watch it,” Bill said dryly. “You’re going to break the seat belt.”

  Renie ignored him. “We’re going to go through the porte cochere. I love a porte cochere!”

  Judith turned to smile at her cousin. “Maybe I was too much into that juvenile delinquent book. I don’t even remember seeing the hotel.”

  “Serves you right,” Renie said, but she was still grinning like a chimp.

  Joe turned off the engine. “Hey, Bill, come with me and we’ll check in, then figure out where we park, okay?”

  Bill craned his neck, looking around outside. “They should have somebody here to—ow!” He winced. “My damned neck’s going out on me again. Okay, let’s go. I need to get settled in and do my exercises.”

  The men exited the car. Renie had turned serious. “Bill and his chronic neck problems! I hope they’ve got a chiropractor on the hotel payroll.”

  “They might,” Judith said. “Judging from the brochures, they’ve got just about everything including a world-class spa. A massage sounds good about now, after all this sitting. I’m not used to that at the B&B.”

  “I’ll settle for a lavish lunch,” Renie said, rolling down the window. “Mmmm. The air smells wonderful. It reminds me of the summers we spent at the family cabins.”

  “A wonderful way to grow up,” Judith murmured, nostalgia washing over her. “So what if we didn’t have electricity or running water? It made us hardy.”

  “It did,” Renie agreed. “I was really kind of sorry when they finally hooked us up to the county public utility district. It took away some of the rustic . . . Oh, here come the husbands.” She paused. “They look grim. Does that mean nobody’s going to help with our luggage?”

  Joe opened the driver’s door; Bill opened the rear passenger door. Both of their faces had turned quite ruddy.

  “There’s been a mistake,” Joe stated solemnly. “Our reservations were . . .” He appealed to Bill. “How would you put it?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Bill said. “I told you, we should’ve sneaked out the back way.”

  Judith was confused. “We didn’t get a big suite?”

  Joe gulped. “We didn’t get any of their suites. We . . . we didn’t even get rooms.”

  “What?” the cousins shrieked in unison.

  The husbands looked as if they were about to run away. But being of mature mind and aging bodies, they reconsidered.

  “Okay,” Joe said, finally getting behind the wheel as Bill semi-collapsed in the backseat next to Renie. “We made a little mistake and got the name of this place mixed up. It’s being changed to the Fairmont Banff Springs hotel.”

  “You mean we have nowhere to stay?” a flabbergasted Judith demanded.

  “No!” Bill bellowed. “We have reservations, but they’re at the Banff Springs Motel. Ow! There goes my neck again!”

  “A good thing,” Renie snarled, “or I might break your neck. And why aren’t we having lunch at the hotel?”

  Joe was pulling out from under the porte cochere. “Not only are they full up, but they’re hosting a big convention that takes a break at one o’clock. We do have directions for the place with the reservations we did make. The woman at the desk told us it’s very nice.”

  “It better be,” Judith muttered. Maybe she and Renie should have retained their longtime roles as the travel planners. But, Judith reminded herself, at least they were in beautiful Banff. What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 3

  “Hey!” Renie cried. “How’d we get on Squirrel Street? I hate squirrels. They’re the most subversive of all terrorists. They should be nuked in their cozy little nests.”

  “I’m following directions, damn it,” Joe snapped. “The motel is by the Bow River.”

  Judith’s dark eyes were darker than ever. “It’d better not be in the river.”

  After a few more turns and what seemed like at least a couple of miles, they finally espied the Banff Springs Motel in a fairly secluded area. Its two cedar-shake stories looked well maintained and the landscaping featured what looked like native plantings. Judith recognized the bright yellow of Gaillardia and goldenrod, but the pale lavender asters seemed to be past their prime. More importantly, she noted a sign that read suites available.

  “This time,” she said in an almost normal voice, “Renie and I will do the checking in.”

  The husbands remained silent.

  The lobby was small but tasteful. There were several paintings by what appeared to be local artists, mostly of the area’s scenery, judging from the variety of geographical features represented. Judith thought they added a homey touch. A bald, burly older man stood at the rear of the reception area. He nodded at the cousins before opening a door and disappearing from view. Mindful of her status as guest and not innkeeper, she gave the young ponytailed desk clerk a friendly smile, identified herself, and to
ld him they had reservations.

  “I have reservations about a lot of things,” Renie whispered to Judith as the clerk checked his computer. “Especially our husbands. Can a nonresident file for a quickie divorce in Canada?”

  “Dubious,” Judith murmured.

  “Here you are, the Rose and the Yew Suites,” the clerk said, reaching for the key cards. “How many?”

  Judith asked for two of each, noting that the clerk’s name tag read niall mcpherson. “Is that older man the motel owner?” she asked in her friendliest voice.

  Niall nodded. “George Barnes had the motel built four, maybe five years ago.”

  “It looks very nice,” she said. “Where do we park?”

  “On the river side,” he replied. “Great view. Your suites adjoin, just to the right as you get out of the elevator.”

  The cousins headed for the car. “It seems like a decent place,” Judith remarked.

  But Renie wasn’t yet mollified. “They don’t have a restaurant. If I don’t eat something soon, you’d better cover your arms. I might start gnawing on one of them.”

  “The mosquitoes are already doing that,” Judith responded, waving a couple of them away before getting into the car.

  “Well?” Joe said doubtfully.

  “We’re registered,” Judith replied in an unenthusiastic tone. “We’d better stow our stuff and head for a restaurant.”

  “Stuff the stowing,” Renie yipped. “I’m about to pass out from hunger. It’s going on two.”

  Bill agreed. “She’s right. My ulcer’s acting up. Let’s hit it. Boppin’!”

  Judith and Joe had no choice but to keep up with the Joneses.

  The Maple Leaf Café was able to seat them at once. The decor was deemed rustically elegant by Renie, who ordered the smoked salmon bagel and practically swooned when she saw the size of the portion. Joe and Bill both opted for portobello burgers, while Judith chose the smoked turkey sandwich. By the end of the meal, the wives’ good humor was partially restored. At least they’d stopped threatening to kill their mates.

  But after they parked the car behind the motel and went up to the second floor, they discovered that the word suite had been lost in the Canadian translation.

  “It’s just a big room!” Renie exclaimed after Bill opened the door.

  Joe was still fiddling with the key card. “Go inside. Maybe you’re only looking at part of it.” He felt the lock click open and ushered Judith inside. “Well?” he said, sounding a little unsure of himself.

  Judith studied the large room with its reasonably tasteful appointments. The bathroom was fairly spacious and there was a roomy closet. “That other door must open into the rest of the suite.”

  “I doubt it could . . .” Joe began, but Judith was reaching for the knob.

  The door opened. “Coz!” Renie cried. “I thought this was part of our suite!”

  Joe rubbed at his high forehead. “Forget it. Apparently, it’s the motel’s version of a suite, okay? Bill and I screwed up.” He looked at Judith and then at Renie. “If you two want to keep bitching about the accommodations and ruin our vacation, fine. But where we stay isn’t as big a deal as what else this area has to offer. Bill and I still plan to go fishing, so if you two are going to sulk, we won’t be around to let it drive us nuts.”

  The cousins exchanged quick glances. “Joe’s right,” Judith admitted. “This is our big getaway. We probably won’t spend much time in the motel. There are other things to do around here. We might even spend a day at Lake Louise’s chateau.”

  Renie finally stopped scowling and sighed. “You’re right. We’ve been bratty. Let’s have fun instead.”

  Judith took Joe’s hand. “What would you like to do?”

  He winced. “Honestly? Take a nap. All that driving wore me out.”

  In the other room, Bill was already plumping up a pillow. “You read my mind. Everybody pipe down. I need at least an hour to recover. My morning stretch at the wheel was rugged.”

  Renie looked at Judith. “I think we need to go away.”

  “Yes. Yes,” she agreed as Joe started removing the counterpane on their bed. “We’ll explore our surroundings.”

  The cousins headed to the elevator and went outside. “I keep forgetting,” Judith said, “we’re not as young as we used to be.”

  “We’re still alive,” Renie noted as they walked to the river’s edge, where a slight breeze made the riffles sparkle under the late-afternoon sun. “That’s a start.” She paused. “What’s that weird rig up ahead by the bend? It looks like a platform, but it’s got wheels. And there’s a big tent. Are we by a campground?”

  “Could be,” Judith allowed, batting at a couple of mosquitoes. “They do have them in Banff.”

  Ever curious, they followed the river’s curve and saw a half-dozen people standing between an aging VW bus and a wooden picnic table. “That bunch seems to have the clearing to themselves,” Renie said. “I don’t see any sign of other campers nearby. It looks like a private gathering. Maybe we shouldn’t butt in.”

  “This isn’t private property, it’s part of the town,” Judith said, waving at a wooden sign pointing in various directions, to the golf course, the ski lifts, and the town center. Or centre, as it was spelled in Canada. “Should we turn around?”

  Renie shrugged. “We’re almost there. Maybe they’re Gypsies. We could get our fortunes told.”

  The cousins kept walking. Within twenty yards of the little group, a rawboned young man with dark slicked-back hair called out to them. “You from the funeral home?”

  Judith wasn’t sure she’d heard right, but waited until she got closer to respond. “We’re from the motel,” she finally said. “Are you camping here?”

  “In a way,” the man replied, putting out a suntanned hand. “I’m Teddy Stokes. How-de-do.” His grip was so tight that Judith winced. He reached out to Renie, but she backed off.

  “I’ve got spots,” she said solemnly. “Very contagious.”

  Judith noticed two more people emerging from the tent. “You have quite a crew here. Are they all family?”

  Teddy nodded. “Yep. But none of the young’uns are here. Not a good idea to bring ’em on a trip like this.”

  “Well . . . yes, small children don’t appreciate scenery,” Judith said for lack of anything more cogent.

  “I s’pose that’s so,” Teddy said vaguely as he glanced back at the others in his traveling party. “It’s the dying part that we fussed over. Best to leave the kiddies behind with Auntie Sheba. Aw, c’mon. You might as well meet the rest of us Stokes folks while we’re all still alive.”

  “You expect to be dead soon?” Renie blurted. “Won’t that spoil your vacation plans?”

  “Huh?” Teddy said over his shoulder. “I mean Codger. He’s older than dirt and just about gone. Who wants to live to be a hundred? No point when you’re feeble. I expect he’ll hang in there for an hour, hour and a half, maybe. The ride from Big Stove, Nebraska, plumb tuckered him out.”

  “Big Stove?” Judith echoed.

  “Right,” Teddy responded, pausing for a moment. “We saw a sign for somethin’ called Radium Hot Springs and kinda wondered if dunkin’ Codger there might help, but it was out of our way. Then we spotted another sign for the Cave and Basin National Historic Site with sulfur hot springs. That sounded like the devil hisself, so we figgered it’d do Codger more harm than good. He never was much of a one for messin’ with demons and such. He liked to, as he put it, ‘live like a rightful man.’ Or was it ‘a righteous man’? I ferget.”

  Judith glanced at Renie, but she merely shrugged. They followed Teddy to the picnic table, where the rest of the Stokes family had gathered. One of two younger women looked at the cousins curiously, but the seated middle-aged couple seemed absorbed in a game of cribbage.

  “Not right to have such a fine day,” Teddy muttered. “Not right at all.” But as he drew closer to the picnic table, he changed gears. “Met some nice ladies from the mote
l,” he announced. “Where’s Codger? They’d probably like to see him before he takes off.”

  “We would?” Renie whispered.

  “Shhh.” Judith nudged her with an elbow.

  One of the younger women stepped forward. Her freckled face might have been pretty if she didn’t look so worried. “Teddy, honey,” she said, putting a hand on his arm, “this is family stuff, private-like. We don’t want strangers hangin’ out with us.”

  “You’re right,” Renie agreed. “We’ll be going now. Bye.”

  “Hold it!” The deep masculine voice came from the older man who’d been playing cribbage. “Are you two from one of those smutty tabloids?”

  Renie opened her mouth to say no, but Judith spoke first. “We’ve heard about Codger. We’ve come to learn about his . . . plans. They should make fascinating reading.” Her cousin’s groan was barely audible.

  Several sets of eyes grew very round. “Really?” the young woman exclaimed. “That is too thrilling!”

  Judith ignored what sounded like Renie gnashing her big teeth. “It isn’t every day that we come across a story like yours.”

  The older man took off his hat, which looked to Judith as if it were made out of seed corn. He beckoned for the visitors to join him at the picnic table. “Take a seat,” he said, gesturing at the woman who sat across from him. “This here is Ma Stokes. I’m Pa. I don’t shake hands—early arthritis. Danged rough on a farmer.”

  Judith noticed the reddened, swollen joints of Pa Stokes’s big hands. He was probably in his fifties, with shrubby eyebrows, a long jaw, and tanned, sinewy arms. Even sitting down, Ma looked like a butterball. Yet her round face was curiously unlined and her gray eyes seemed unusually penetrating.

  “What do you raise?” Judith asked.

  Pa’s expression was wry. “Corn. What else would us folks raise in Nebraska? Oh, we plant some soybeans, too. Earlier harvest than corn. Every little bit helps, but corn’s the main thing. You ever hear of the Cornhuskers football team? That’s our big university. Had some real famous players, lot of ’em came off of farms.”