I couldn’t believe Penny was standing there, conversing in her steady, professional manner while her face was spotted with a half-dozen blue dots.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Monique turned to the beauticians, and with a calming nod, she said, “Please continue your services for our guests.”
I tucked my camera back into my shoulder bag and returned to the cushy pedicure chair as Monique left. The water had gone cold, but I plunged my feet in the sudsy wet anyway and waited for my pedicure.
“Now I know why I recognized the name Daresbury.” Penny wiped her face with a wet cloth one of the beauticians handed her. “Monique mentioned this hotel on the plane.”
“Yes, well,” Elina said with a grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Monique chooses not to mention it to Americans on her next plane ride.”
“Hey, we didn’t cause any permanent damage,” Penny said. “Besides, life’s too short to …”
Elina and I both looked at Penny.
“Life’s too … precious,” Penny said. “Whether it’s short or long. Life is just too precious not to enjoy every second of it.”
An exquisite peace settled over all of us.
Having gone to such a deep low with Penny, followed by an erratic high, and topped off with Monique’s unexpected appearance, I was content to sit quietly and let the diligent beautician go to work on my long-neglected feet. I liked the massage with the fragrant lotion the best. My manicure was short. I think it was because I have such short nails. I didn’t give the hardworking young woman much to work with.
We talked about a variety of topics during the second half of our beauty treatments. None of our subjects was personal and none of them required much thinking. Penny said she had a headache, and I could see why.
Despite the elevator-like rise and fall of our pampering session, we all agreed that we felt refreshed. We dresssed up for dinner because a placard on the desk in our room told us it was mandatory. At eight o’clock the three of us entered the dining room looking as elegant and refined as any of the other guests who were dining at that respectable hour.
My feet felt happy.
The dining room wasn’t very large. Each table was covered with a pale ivory tablecloth. A large buffet occupied the center of the main area, and to the far right was a grand piano. A man in a tuxedo was playing a classical piece. I didn’t know Beethoven from Bach, but I wished I did right then. Such knowledge, along with my happy feet and shiny fingernails, would have helped me feel cultured.
Penny led the way to our table. The waiter announced that they were serving beef Wellington that evening.
“Excuse me,” Elina said, as the waiter in his prim white jacket turned to leave. “May we have some menus?”
I was glad she asked because I thought Elina might have some insight into what would be good to order.
The waiter looked perturbed and repeated, “This evening we are serving beef Wellington or the buffet. Those are your choices.”
“Oh.”
He stepped away. Penny leaned closer to Elina. “Was there something particular you were hoping to have for dinner?”
“It was only a whim,” she said with a smile.
“What were you hoping to order?” Penny asked.
“It’s silly, but I like to order dishes in a restaurant that I don’t prepare at home.”
“I’m the same way,” I told her. “I love to try foods I would never attempt to make or that might not be what my family would like.”
“Yes.” Elina pursed her lips together.
“Okay, now I’m curious,” Penny said. “What did you want to order?”
Elina’s eyes twinkled. “Chicken.”
“Yes.” Penny appeared to be trying very hard not to burst out laughing. “I would imagine you don’t eat a lot of chicken around your house.”
I tried to repress my laughter by holding my breath and biting my lip. I’d been painfully reminded of the infamous Miss Molly when I had my manicure and the bandage was removed so I could get the full lotion massage on my hands.
“It’s been over a year,” Elina said. “I’ve forgotten how chicken tastes.”
“They might have chicken on the buffet,” I suggested.
“Good idea. I’m for the buffet,” Elina said.
“Me, too,” I said.
“Make that three.” Penny looked around. “I hope Monique can join us. Keep an eye out for her.”
“You’ve never met a stranger, have you, Penny?” Elina asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You have a wonderful way of bringing out the best in others. You don’t have a narrow view of strangers, the way most people do.”
Penny shrugged. “Life is too precious.”
I knew that Penny had found a new motto for her life.
Nineteen
Penny, Elina, and I followed each other around the buffet, scooping small bits of this and that. Elina recognized many of the dishes, which was helpful. At church potlucks back in Chinook Springs I never had trouble figuring out what everything was. The same people brought the same dishes each time. My children had grown up experiencing every possible combination of Jell-O salads known to humanity.
This buffet, however, seemed to focus on all the possibilities of what could be done with mayonnaise. Eight of the ten salads seemed to have a base that Elina called “salad cream.” It looked like mayonnaise to me.
When we reached the buffet’s meat section, Elina filled a second plate with three chicken dishes. A chef in a white jacket and tall white hat stood guard beside a huge slab of prime rib, ready to slice for us on demand.
I was staring at a meat dish that was garnished with thin orange wedges. “Do you suppose this is another variety of chicken?” I asked Elina.
She bent closer.
The chef said, “ ’at’s dowgk, mum.”
I looked at him and back at Elina. “What did he say?”
“I think he said ‘dog,’ ” Elina whispered. “But that can’t be right. They wouldn’t serve dog at a place like this.”
The chef apparently heard our murmurings because he spoke up with a louder voice. “Dowgk, mum.”
“Pork?” I ventured.
“No!” he spouted just as the pianist ended his piece and a quietness settled over the room. “ ’at’s dowgk, ma’am.” Tucking his hands in his armpits and flapping, he demonstrated, “Dowgk! Qwak, qwak!”
“Oh, duck!” Elina and I said in unison.
Our chef’s animated description drew the attention of many of the respectable diners. I passed on the “dowgk” and returned to our table with my eyes straight ahead.
“Dowgk,” Penny repeated as she followed behind me. “Quack, quack!” She and Elina spilled their laughter all the way to our table.
Monique was standing beside our table, waiting for us. “You manage to make a party wherever you go, don’t you?” she said with a gracious smile.
“We are having a great time,” Penny said. “You’ll join us, won’t you?”
“For a moment, yes.” She didn’t sit but stood casually and visited with us as if she were out for a stroll rather than in the middle of running a large resort. Her elegant beauty and the warm glow of her dark skin struck me again.
Penny gave Monique one of her business cards and stressed that the next time Monique was in San Francisco, she should give Penny a call. “I’ll take you to my favorite Chinese restaurant.”
“Sounds lovely. I’ll definitely give you a call. How long are you staying with us here?”
“Just tonight,” Penny said. “We’re going to Liverpool tomorrow and then taking a late train back to London because our plane leaves the next morning at eight.”
“That doesn’t give you much time,” Monique said.
“Enough for us to take a picture at Penny Lane,” Penny observed.
“And buy a few last-minute souvenirs,” I added.
Monique reached into her pale pink blazer pocket and pulled out one of her b
usiness cards. She wrote something on the back and handed it to me. “This will allow you to purchase anything in the hotel for a 20 percent discount.”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to—”
“Of course not. I didn’t think you were. I would like you all to be my personal guests for the remainder of your stay. I’ve instructed your waiter to bring your dinner check to me. I’m honored that you decided to stay here.”
“Monique,” Penny protested, “you don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” Monique said with a tone in her voice that reminded me of Penny’s best PR polish. “You are my guests tonight, and when I come again to San Francisco, I am certain that you, Penny, will be the one who insists on paying for the Chinese food.”
Penny laughed. “Agreed.” She gave Monique’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks.”
“You take care.” Monique left, and we savored our complimentary dinner. Of course, we had to order coffee and the most decadent chocolate dessert the restaurant offered. It was a seven-layered chocolate cake with thick fudge frosting between each of the thin layers.
We joked about needing to call for a bellman to roll us onto one of the luggage carts to haul us to our room. Strolling slowly, we passed a gift shop in the lobby. I suggested we stop to look for souvenirs. Penny and Elina wanted to go to the room, so I shopped by myself. Aside from the evening alone in the guest room at Marketta’s, this was the only time I remembered being by myself. I enjoyed taking my time and looking at everything.
A display of china teacups and saucers caught my eye. They reminded me of the beautiful china and crystal Anni had used to serve us at her home for our presauna dinner.
The glaze on the cups was so smooth I found that I didn’t want to put the cup down once my hands wrapped around it. The teacups came in a variety of colors and patterns. A small sign on the glass shelf stated a local artist had designed them.
I decided that every woman on my list would get a china cup and saucer. Picking ones for Kaylee and Joanie was easy. I knew Bonnie liked roses, as did my mom. I bought one set with red roses and one with yellow. The cream-colored set with the sweet blue forget-me-nots came with a matching teapot. I held the cup and thought about getting it for myself.
I don’t really need this …
I decided life was too precious to pass up such a rare item, and at 20 percent off, I would be crazy to walk away without the cup and the teapot.
Crazy like a daisy, I told myself. Then a smile played across my lips. In front of me was a teacup with tiny daisies in a chain along the rim. I knew I had to get that one for Penny.
The clerk was attentive and helpful, assuring me that she could pack each cup securely so I would have no problem getting them home without the slightest chip. Since I had only one bag, I could check that single piece of luggage and carry on all the china in a box.
Double-checking my souvenir list, I noticed one name left. Gloria. Returning to the china shelf, I looked carefully at each remaining teacup. One on the top shelf stood out. It was a complex cup in a deep shade of purple with intricate gold trim around the edges. The cup was distinct. Special. This cup refused to be ignored—and was priced at almost three times the other cups and saucers.
With a sense of settled contentment, I picked up the pricey, fragile cup and saucer and smiled. This was the gift I wanted to take home to Gloria.
My assortment of china was so well packed that I didn’t want to unwrap it to show Elina and Penny once I returned to our hotel room. They said they would take my word for how beautiful the china was and stop by the gift shop in the morning to see the rest of the assortment.
However, we were up so early the shop wasn’t open yet. A cab arrived to take the three of us to the station so we could catch a 7:02 train into Liverpool.
The moment I stepped outside to the waiting taxi, I knew the day was going to be glorious. The ground was covered with a light coat of frost that had come special delivery yesterday afternoon on the rainy sleet express. Puffs of whitened mist floated over the adjoining meadow like the Lady of Shalott set adrift in a whitewashed boat floating down to Camelot. Overhead, the March sky stretched its pale blue wings and fluttered over our corner of the world, blessing us with crisp, light breezes.
I stopped to stare at a dew-laced spider’s web in the potted shrub by the hotel’s entrance. Every thread appeared to be spun of silver. Every drop of moisture hung like a diamond—no, like a star. Like single stars compressed and sprinkled as one sprinkles glitter when preparing for a celebration.
I drew in a deep draught of chilled air and watched my exhaled breath turn into a cloud. My breath ruffled the glittery stars strung on the spider’s silver thread ever so slightly.
Did You breathe, and it was so?
With such clarity of thought came the sense of my heavenly Father’s presence. I felt as if He stood right beside me in that moment, bending over, His magnificent hands clasped behind His back as He examined the tiniest bit of His creation with shared delight.
We are all at Your mercy, aren’t we, Lord? Every living creature. We could all be gone in a blink. Yet, in Your love, You gently breathe on us and we live another day.
For the first time on this trip, and maybe in my life, I caught a glimmer of what it meant to be at God’s mercy. He speaks, and it is so. He breathes, and we live another day.
“What a gorgeous morning!” Penny held open the taxi’s door and waited for me to climb in.
I headed for the cab and then stopped. Digging for my camera, I went back to the potted shrub, leaned close, and snapped a picture of the spider’s web.
“Okay, you know what?” Penny said. “I’m not even going to ask what you were taking a picture of back there. But I will ask a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Will you save enough film for a few shots at Penny Lane?”
“No problem. I have three more rolls of film. I haven’t taken as many pictures on this trip as I thought I would.”
“So, of course, it makes sense that you would use up that extra film by taking pictures of random hotel shrubbery,” Penny said brightly.
Elina chuckled.
For some reason, I thought of Tuija from the department store in Finland. I thought of how she had explained that her name meant “a green bush that is planted in front of a house for beauty.”
Feeling cocky, I arched my left eyebrow slightly as I slid past Penny and climbed into the cab. “That wasn’t random hotel shrubbery. That was a very special tuija.”
“Ah!” Elina’s eyes lit up. “Tuija!”
I smiled and looked out the window, reveling in the sunlit beauty of this fresh new day.
On our short train ride to Liverpool, we were packed in with dozens of Brits on their way to work. I loved listening to the accents and observing mannerisms and what people were wearing. Kaylee wanted me to bring home some unique clothing for her, and I was certain I could find something in Liverpool.
We hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, so our first objective, when we arrived, was to find a nearby restaurant and, as Penny said, “get some protein and caffeine in us, but not necessarily in that order.”
Elina was more interested in finding a way to check our luggage so we wouldn’t have to carry it all over the city. She found a baggage check station inside the terminal and encouraged us to slim down our shoulder bags to the bare essentials before we took off for the day.
I loved feeling light. I loved the sunshine that came at us outside the train station in iridescent slants across the crowded streets. I loved Liverpool, and the truth was, we barely had been introduced.
We found a small café a few blocks from the station. All three of us moved as one toward the open table in the sunshine by the window. We peeled off our coats and hung them over the chair backs.
“Coffee or tea?” Elina asked us.
“Tea for me,” I said.
“Tea for two,” Penny replied.
Elina turned to the waitress, who was approaching us wit
h menus. “Tea for three, please. With milk and sugar.”
We ordered the full English breakfast. It came with a fat sausage Elina called a “banger,” scrambled eggs, baked beans, fried tomato slices, and a stack of white toast served with each slice filed upright in a metal rack. Our table could barely hold all the pots of jam along with our large plates and tea paraphernalia.
The strong tea was delicious. I decided I needed to buy lots that day so I would have authentic British loose tea when I christened my new china teapot.
Our breakfast plates were being cleared when Elina announced a little secret she had kept from us all morning. “I finished them.”
“Finished what?” Penny said. “Your eggs?”
“No, your mother’s letters.”
“You did? Where are they?”
“Here.” Elina reached for a dozen folded-up pieces of paper. I noticed the first few pages were written out on hotel stationery from Monique’s resort.
“When did you do this?” Penny asked.
“Last night. I couldn’t sleep. I’m surprised I didn’t wake either of you. I turned the lamp to the lowest setting at the desk and thought I’d translate one or two. Before I knew it, I’d finished all of them.”
“Any big secrets?” Penny said cautiously.
Elina shook her head. “No.”
“Nothing about my father selling government information to the enemy?”
“No, I think my mother and the rest of the family liked to think there was something more to Hank, so they made up the part about his selling government secrets. It must have made it easier for Grandma to let her daughter go if she could believe the worst about Hank.”
“Right,” Penny said. “As if it wasn’t bad enough that she got pregnant and ran off with him.”
“And never returned,” Elina added.
Penny glanced at the stack of papers in her hand. They seemed glued to her tight fists. Aside from hugging her aunt Marketta, these translated letters were the biggest chunk of connection to her mother that Penny had held in more than twenty years.
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