"A Stitch In Crime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hechtman Betty)

CHAPTER 6

THE LOUD, INSISTENT KNOCK AT MY DOOR MADE me sit up suddenly. The rhinestone clipboard fell off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Had I really slept with it? I looked around, trying to orient myself. After a moment I recognized the dark wood-paneled walls and ceiling of my Asilomar room. I’d left the curtains open, and the dim light filtering in implied that it was very early morning. The window was open a crack, and the room had filled with chilly, damp air. More noise came from the door. This time it was closer to pounding. My stomach did a flip-flop. It sounded like trouble.

The floor was icy on my bare feet as I got out of bed. Maybe icy was a bit of a stretch, but it was certainly very cold. The red readout on the clock radio said six thirty. I regretted not having brought a robe and slippers, and pulled the dusty rose shawl I’d crocheted over my nightgown. My shoulders felt warm, but it didn’t do much for the rest of me as I crossed to the door.

Adele was tapping her foot when I opened the door. “It’s about time,” she said, shaking her head. My groggy feeling was instantly gone with one glance at Adele’s outfit. The fuchsia of her sweat outfit hit my eyes with a jolt-and who knew they made chartreuse sneakers? She completed the look with a backward baseball cap and a scarf of coaster-size doilies strung together and wrapped around her neck. “Pink, you’ve got a problem. No, it’s more than a problem. It’s a disaster.” She took in my outfit. “You better put on some clothes. You’re going to have to do something. You’re in charge, remember? The big cheese with the rhinestone clipboard. The buck stops with you.”

Adele’s rant was interrupted by a door opening. Dinah stuck her head out. “What’s all the commotion about?”

I pulled Adele into my room, and Dinah followed. No need to alert the whole floor that something bad had happened before I had the details.

“So, what is it?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you. I have to show you. Downstairs.”

Adele tends toward drama, but I couldn’t take a chance. I threw on yesterday’s clothes and shoved my sleep-shaped hair under a beige beanie I’d crocheted recently, figuring I’d deal with the disaster and come back for a shower before breakfast.

Okay, there are some things that can’t be fixed. And for once Adele hadn’t gone for hyperbole. As soon as we stepped outside, I got it. It was like stepping inside a marshmallow. All I could see was white. Even though we’d gone only a few steps from the entrance to Lodge, the building was already disappearing in the white air swirling around it.

Dinah came down the steps a few minutes later, glanced around, and rushed to join us. She’d pulled on some red sweats and covered the wilted spikes of her hair with a black baseball cap.

“Wait for me,” a voice called from behind us. When I turned back, I saw that Sheila had just tumbled out the door. She screeched to a stop, reacting to the opaque air. I couldn’t make out her expression, but I could hear her breath become shallow and ragged. I got it right away. She was feeling panicky, and I could relate. There was something claustrophobic about a fog this thick.

She took a tentative step toward us, eyeing the sky nervously.

“It’s okay, honey,” Dinah said, putting her arm around Sheila when she finally reached us. We all urged Sheila to take some deep breaths, and gradually her features lost their frantic expression. Adele started to reel off information about how bad it was as she dragged us all to the administration building, where the lone TV was tuned to a live report.

A newscaster was standing at a police roadblock. Behind her it looked as if a white curtain had been pulled across the road. “It’s a complete whiteout and has been named the Pacific Grove Fogout,” she said, gesturing to the road behind her.

The redheaded guy at the registration desk began to talk. “It’s a complete whiteout. All the roads are closed around here. You can’t see past the hood of your car.” He shook his head. “We get fog all the time around here, but never like this. I bet it’s because of global warming.”

He pushed a pile of phone messages across the counter. “These are for you-from your retreat people. They’re all stuck, and won’t be able to get here until the fog lifts. Everything-and I mean everything-is shut down, not moving, nothing going anywhere. Not even the park ranger or the security guy could make it in.” He mumbled something about having worked all night, and his replacement couldn’t make it in, either. Then he stared at us, looking a little crazed and his voice verging on hysterical. “We’re stranded, ladies. It’s like we’re on an island with no boat.” He leaned across the counter. “Be careful.”

We went back outside, and when I held my arm out, I could barely see my hand. As we walked down the path, a deer rushed in front of us, appearing as confused as we were.

“Pink, what are you going to do?” Adele said.

I had considered lots of things that might happen during the weekend, but being caught inside a cloud wasn’t one of them. I gave up hope for a hot shower and a change of clothes. Maybe after breakfast. I suggested we move on to the dining hall.

“What are you going to do, Pink?” Adele said again, walking on one side of me.

“Molly will come up with something,” Dinah said from the other side. Sheila appeared overwhelmed by the fog and stayed close to Dinah.

“The obvious thing is to postpone everything until the campers get here,” I said as the bell began to ring, announcing breakfast.

“Good morning, ladies,” an all-too-cheerful male voice said from behind us. Dinah stiffened and moved closer to Sheila. As Commander Blaine caught up with us, I began to see Dinah’s point. He was too eager, too cheerful, and his cargo pants too wrinkle-free. He rushed ahead as we walked up the stairs to the dining hall, grabbed the door, and held it open for us. Did he even notice the fog?

Two women and a man were standing in the entrance, blocking our way as we came inside.

“Are any of you with the Shedd amp; Royal creative weekend?” a woman in lavender pants and a white sweatshirt with lavender trim asked.

Adele gave me a nudge to the front. “She’s the one you want to talk to.”

The woman said they had arrived late the night before. “It was terrible finding this place in the dark and with the fog coming in.” Then she brightened. “But we’re here now, and we can’t wait for the workshops to begin. Where do we register?”

Adele nudged me again. “Pink, you better break the news to them.”

“News?” the other woman said.

“Have you looked outside?” I mentioned the fog, the messages from the other campers, and finally my plan to postpone the start of the activities until everyone could get there.

The woman in the lavender pants appeared displeased with what I said. “So the workshop presenters can’t get here?” she said.

“No, they’re all here,” I said.

She seemed upset with my answer and turned to the man. “Edward, do something.”

Edward straightened and cleared his throat. It turned out he was a lawyer, and he gave me some legal mumbo jumbo about implied contracts and we had to perform or we’d be in breach. He threw the word sue around a few times. I knew it was probably just hot air, and that even though Mason didn’t practice that kind of law, he could still probably outlawyer Edward. But did I want three unhappy campers? Three unhappy campers who might spread the word around Tarzana that I had ruined their weekend?

“Well, of course you’re right.” I explained that I’d made the plan to postpone when I thought no campers had arrived. “But now that I know you’re here, we’ll have some workshops today.” They seemed satisfied and hadn’t picked up on my mention of some workshops. I said I would get them their orientation packets after breakfast and sent them over to tables by the window.

Izabelle came in on a cloud of floral perfume. Before I could mention the table for our group, Adele had already stepped in and was guiding Izabelle to our corner. I heard a snippet of conversation as Adele moved her head around to show off her earrings. Something about their being made with double picot stitches.

“We might as well sit down,” I said, stepping in from the entrance.

“Who are they?” Sheila said. She started to point, then caught herself and gestured with her chin. They were a man and woman at a table in the far corner of the room.

“That’s the guy I saw in the hall when we first got here. He looked so angry, all I could think of was that if looks could kill, I would have been dead,” I said. Sheila sucked in her breath, and I said I was just trying to be clever. “I don’t think he was angry with me. He just glanced my way. I don’t even know who he is.”

I hadn’t noticed that Commander had left us until he rejoined us and grabbed my arm.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, leading me toward the kitchen. I knew Dinah wanted to stay at the table, but true-blue friend that she is, she followed along.

When we got to the kitchen, Commander pointed to two women sitting by a counter, leaning on their elbows. Only now did I realize that there had been no food smells when we walked in. One of the women explained they worked cleanup and knew nothing about cooking. They lived nearby and had been able to walk to Asilomar. None of the cook staff could get there.

“I have an idea,” Commander began. “I just wanted to get your okay first.”

When I heard it involved his getting breakfast, I couldn’t say yes fast enough.

I stepped back into the dining room and announced there would be a delay of breakfast, then went back to the kitchen to help.

A short time later, I returned and invited our group to get their food. It turned out the two employees were good at helping once they were told what to do. Commander had a wonderful recipe for a breakfast casserole. It was amazing what he’d done with some eggs, bread, green onions and shredded cheese. Dinah and I had found fruit to cut up for salad and made pots of coffee. There was orange juice, too. We’d set up the food buffet style on the stainless steel counter.

Everything smelled delicious, and the small group began to help themselves.

“Well, Sunshine, good job with breakfast,” Mason said as he picked up a plate. I was still getting used to his outfit. I was accustomed to seeing him in finely tailored suits or high-end casual wear. The white cotton pants and kimono jacket over a long-sleeve knit shirt seemed out of place on him along with the black cotton shoes. As usual, a lock of his warm brown hair had fallen across his forehead, giving him an earnest look as he put some food on his plate.

“Commander deserves the credit. He pulled it all together. We just did the grunt work.”

Mason picked up a mug for coffee. “Is there any milk?” One of the Asilomar employees got a carton of milk from the refrigerator and started to put it on the counter, but Commander wanted her to pour it into a small pitcher. I noticed a photo of a little girl on the carton. Dinah did, too.

“I didn’t know they were still running those pictures of missing kids,” she said. “That little girl looks like Ashley-Angela.” For a moment Dinah sounded wistful, then she straightened up. “Just tell me to shut up,” she said with a laugh. Ashley-Angela and her fraternal twin brother, E. Conner, were the children of Dinah’s ex and his second wife, who was now an ex, too. In some bizarre twist of fate, Dinah had ended up caring for the kids and had gotten attached to them. She was truly sorry to see them go when their father finally came for them. But she was glad to get her freedom back, too. Sometimes when she saw a kid who resembled one of the twins, she still got sad and missed them.

“This girl is older than Ashley-Angela,” I said, looking at the carton.

“They just made the picture look that way. The girl has probably been missing for a couple of years. Kids change a lot, and somehow they fix the picture so it shows how she would look.” Dinah poured some milk in a little pitcher and handed it to Mason.

Some more people came in, and I noticed Adele talking to the woman I’d seen sitting in the dining room. I caught a snippet of the conversation and was surprised to hear Adele doing her spiel about knitters trying to take over the world. The angry man came across the room to me.

“Hi, I’m Spenser Futterman,” he said, putting out his hand. “And that’s my niece Marni.” He gestured toward the woman talking to Adele. “We’re not part of your group, but we were supposed to get breakfast…”

He let his voice trail off, and I got the message. They were hungry and wanted to join us. When I looked at him close up, he had a rather pleasant face now that he wasn’t angry.

“We all have to stick together,” I said, inviting them to help themselves. As Spenser poured two glasses of juice, Izabelle came in. Spenser looked up, and their eyes met.

“You’re here?” she said. She sounded surprised and anything but happy to see him.

“I need to talk to you.” He stepped closer to her, and she moved away.

“There’s nothing to say,” Izabelle said, taking a plate of fruit and going back to the dining hall. She walked past Marni without any sign of recognition.

“What was that about?” Dinah asked, coming up next to me.

“Why do I think it’s trouble?” I replied.