Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter Six: Rocky Road
Posted on Friday, 18 April 2008
This job was going to kill me. I didn't like being awake at dawn thirty or going to sleep well after the night owls had settled into their nests. By the end of the summer, I would have a dang good reason to buy a new(er) car: my poor little Chevy was battered to begin with, and all the driving Mr. Fredericks was having me do was slowly killing my engine.
It was on the return from one of those pointless trips cross-county that things got interesting.
I had Bruno with me, having taken him to the vet Mr. Fredericks had me hunt down and interview before allowing him to so much as look at his precious mutt. Bruno went in for grooming, a trim for his claws, and a brushing for his teeth. That poor vet tech was petrified at the notion of cleaning the teeth of a German Shepherd the size of dear Bruno, especially when he bared his teeth at her. Little did she know he was just making it easier for her.
Back at the resort, newly deserted as renovations were being made, I dropped my keys outside the side door. The big, solid wooden door. It's beautifully carved and leaves an impression.
It also sticks at the top, requiring an extra push to get it going and then it goes at quite the clip. I heard the creak as it opened, but I didn't have time to get out of the way. Luckily my rear is large enough to cushion the fall and the only real damage was done to my forehead.
I must've blanked out for a few seconds, or minutes, or something. I was still outside when I opened my eyes, at least. A lovely Welsh voice was speaking.
"She'll have a bit of a goose-egg, but I think she'll be all right. She wasn't joking when she said she'd a thick skull. Ah, look, she's coming too."
There was Mr. Davlin Fredericks, crouched beside me in his designer suit. He actually seemed concerned! How sweet...
"Wha happen?"
"I'm sorry, I seem to have cleaned your clock so to speak. What were you doing hiding behind the door like that?"
"Dropped keys..."
"Can you make a sentence of more than two words?" And there was Candy, less than kind or sympathetic.
Mr. Fredericks glared at her. "Candy, go into the kitchen and get a towel and some ice."
She sniffed but went.
"How come she's ‘Candy' and I'm ‘Miss Benjamin'?"
I loved that my Tact and Censorship buttons weren't working. He gave one small chuckle and looked at the closed door.
"Because for some reason you deserve it."
I wasn't sure, though, that the pain I felt was from the concussion or the backhanded compliment he had just delivered.
"Can you stand?"
"I think I'll need help.
A few more painful moments later and I was in the lobby of the resort, reclining on a sofa with the pitiful amount of ice Candy supplied pressed to my forehead.
"Do you want a doctor?" Mr. Fredericks asked. Bruno was sitting beside him, panting his minty-fresh doggy breath and occasionally nudging me with his nose. Though he was concerned, the dog still wanted to play. Dogs.
"I think I'll be okay," I muttered. "But can I have the rest of the day off?"
"Certainly. And tomorrow, too, if you still feel unwell."
All right. This guy was really freaking me out now. He was being nice to me, almost catering to my every need. So, yeah, the conk on my noggin was really his fault, but I never expected him to take such an active role in being responsible for it. It was bizarre.
Gina brought me more ice later and stayed with me that afternoon to keep me awake. I also found it bizarre that everyone, including myself, treated the lobby of the now-deserted resort as an informal living room. Byron brought the TV up from the lounge in the basement. After that, he and Gina spent the evening teaching the Wonder Twins how to play euchre while I watched a rerun of Gilmore Girls. Mr. Fredericks, for he was still Mr. Fredericks, was working intently on his laptop.
After a little while, Candy decided she'd had enough of the official state card game and decided to pester myself and Mr. Fredericks.
"My, you're working hard, Davlin. Might I ask what's so engrossing?"
"My sister sent me a paper to read over and critique."
"How old is your sister, that she's still in school?" I had to ask. Every college person I knew was out all ready, and had been for a month.
"Miss Evelyn Fredericks is just finishing up her senior year of high school," Candy sniffed, "And has been accepted into Harvard, pre-law!"
"Wow, that's impressive. Some of my friends applied there for the law program, too."
"I didn't think the Ivy League took charity cases," the b- beekeeper sniped.
I gripped the remote hard enough to hear the plastic cracking, all to keep my charming, unflappable façade intact. Ooh, it was hard work!
"Aww, be nice, Candy," Byron cheerfully rumbled, "Elise here was my sister's roomie at Smith Union University. You were studying art, weren't you, 'lise?"
"Yeah." I was so impressed that he remembered! I'd only met him two, three times at most.
"And which medium, Miss Benjamin?"
There was a note of amused condescension in Mr. Fredericks' voice, as if he either couldn't believe that I had gone to college or that a garden gnome like me would have the audacity to study art. Probably both.
"Photography, actually, with a focus in both digital and print media. Took me a little longer than most, but I got out with a BFA. And I had work published in our student magazine once each year I was there."
The unasked question, which I knew was resting uneasily on everyone's tongue, was "then why in the world are you here?" Candy was the only one with either the guts or the stupidity to say anything.
"Which just goes to show that art isn't the best career path for a little Northern girl."
"Candy, where are you from?" Mr. Fredericks asked. Was I hearing things? He was sounding a bit exasperated!
"Chicago, darling," she purred. Oblivious. She was completely oblivious to his point... and lying.
"Aren't you from Chestnut? Upstate New York?" Byron asked, so totally innocent. "And you studied art, too."
Candy turned scarlet and sat down with a whumf. A little quirk at the corner of his mouth was all that Mr. Fredericks would let show of his apparent amusement, and I, disgusted with the abundance of reruns on cable, turned off the TV in favour of a slightly outdated Newsweek.
"I guess it just goes to show what a difference ambition makes in forming a career," Candy remarked at last, having recovered from her embarrassment and once again the cool, collected Chicago sophisticate. "That's something you once listed as a must, wasn't it, Davlin? On your secret checklist of feminine qualities?"
"If it were secret, you wouldn't know about it," he said.
"I seem to remember a conversation on this topic not over long ago, though. Or was it the generic ‘what guys want' list? I think that's it, ‘What Makes A Girl The One.'"
"I remember something like that too, Dav," Byron added. "I can't attest to how sober we might've been, but there was a general discussion about it."
"You were stone-drunk," Mr. Fredericks muttered, closing the laptop with as much care as everything else he does. I'm sure he even wiped away his fingerprints from the plastic casing.
"If memory serves, the Ideal Woman was outlined as elegant, witty, au courant, sophisticated, not to mention graceful."
That last one was directly aimed at myself. How could it not be? In the last few weeks I had tripped over my own feet more often than I'd care to admit, was wearing clothing that had been rescued from the Goodwill, and had shown all the sophistication of Farmer Jenkins' prize sow.
And what did she think to prove by throwing out one French phrase? Puh-lease! My jaw may have been hanging open slightly, but it was from shock at her audacity rather than confusion.
"My dear Candy, you seem to only remember half of the supposed list. You've forgotten that she must be intelligent and well-educated, have a strong work ethic, and most importantly possess an overall good nature that will allow her to overlook the idiosyncrasies of her company with minimal difficulty."
I almost lost all composure there. Had... had he just complimented me? It sounded like it. Moreover, had he just... hit on me? That had seemed all too much like a come-on, in my limited experience. This time the open mouth was due to confusion. Luckily I was saved from explanation by the arrival of a splitting headache, radiating from the bump and going all the way around to the back of my head. I was deemed safe for beddy-bye and shuffled my way down the hall, Bruno at my side. He curled up on the floor next to my bed and didn't leave until Gina arrived some time later.
I enjoyed my day off, and with the help of a hearty dose of Excedrin was back to work in another day. Candy was blissfully quiet following Mr. Fredericks' little subtle set-down, but it didn't stop her from glaring at me at every opportunity. I could not fathom why Davlin Fredericks would be attracted to me at all, or why he would be suddenly nice to me, though that didn't last a terribly long time after my second day off, and ultimately, I didn't particularly care. He thought himself better than all the rest of us country bumpkins, a mindset I can usually ignore in the usual Fudgies that spend a week or a month in quaint cabins or ostentatious summer mansions that stay vacant for 10 months or so of the year. Could I deal with it in a guy who had slunk in and taken over, and looked to be taking up residence long term? Heck no.
Construction had begun on a new addition to the resort: a ritzy day spa was being added to the restaurant and hotel, which were being remodelled and redecorated in keeping with the rustic theme Candy and Sandy had agreed upon/bullied Byron into accepting. It wasn't a bad idea, actually, and from what I saw of the design concepts the overall look would be perfect for the place. Kind of a classic hunting lodge, with exposed beams and mellow plasterwork, and indigenous game trophies on the wall. Who would know that moose were not that common in our area? Only the locals, I suspect, but too many of them were impressed by the Chicago Contingent to say anything. I was just waiting for Mr. Fredericks to hang himself with all the rope I was giving him by not saying anything to anyone. The design plans were top secret, to be revealed in a week or so at a big staff meeting.
But. Construction was underway, including a house for the pool. There were lots of men about, some young and lovely to look at, most the usual lot of teachers on break and older gentlemen looking for some extra cash. The company Mr. Fredericks had hired was reputable, by all accounts, and did quality work. They hired a lot of guys who had experience in carpentry, electrical, and plumbing work, so even if the workers were not professionals, they knew what they were doing.
Plus, they hired cute guys, too. I'm sure the wife of the owner had something to do with that. Case in point: The lovely blond guy straddling the rafters of the new spa, installing and securing some wiring. I'd seen him a few times, enough to appreciate him, and was elated that he was now working in close proximity to myself. Would give me a chance to maybe talk to him, if the occasion arose.
I found out through the grapevine, namely my mother, that his name was Jason Palmer, he was from the Chicago area too but moved North to help out a family friend, then got into construction just a month or two ago. He was Mr. Fredericks' age, dropped out of college, and had been a roadie with a few smaller bands before moving up here. A borderline Bad Boy, with killer smile, deep (cancerbait) tan, and cutoff jean shorts. A surfer dude, almost, with the sun-bleached hair. Yum. Certainly a better alternative, and more suitable to me, than that stuffy nutcase in the office. Candy could have him, if he gave a rat's rear, which I was quite sure he didn't. I was almost back to thinking he played for my team.
Byron gave the okay for me to lug a cooler of water out to the construction crew one hot day. With what felt like nearly 80% humidity, those poor guys were sweating buckets and more than a few of them had stripped down as far as decency would allow, to the regret of many. Obviously the wife had not hired those gentlemen.
A break was called and all the guys dropped to ground level, scattering to trucks and port-a-johns and shade. I was in the shade, me and the cooler. Not bad. Especially since Jason Palmer was one of the first guys to approach me.
"Hello, gorgeous," he said, flashing brilliant white teeth. Veneers, I thought, or a heck of a lot of time with a bleach tray in his mouth.
"I thought I was supposed to say that," came the witty retort, followed by a pout. "Elise Benjamin."
"Jason. Jason Palmer. Pleasure."
I could've melted on the spot. Good, firm grip; well defined musculature; movie-star good looks and grin. The whole package. Man, he was ripped. And not in that gross, "I'm a bodybuilder" way, but more of an "I do physical labour" kind of way. The latter is always better. I wracked my mental inventory for jars of seedless blackberry jam to have him open, anything to see those muscles move. I could really only grin that stupid grin all girls get at least once in their lives.
There wasn't enough time for conversation, sadly, as none other than that mood-wrecker Mr. Davlin Fredericks made his grand debut, Bruno bounding ahead of him. Would I never be free of him?
"Miss Benjamin, I need you to..." The request/command died after that as his mouth became one little line an inch below his nose.
"Mr. Davlin Fredericks, this is Jason Palmer. He's with Conway Construction."
Jason smiled warmly at my employer and held out his hand. Mr. Fredericks neither returned the favour nor shook hands. Instead he grabbed my upper arm and dragged me back to the resort without further discussion. I was not only mortified, I was incensed!
Chapter Seven: Amaretto
I allowed Davlin Fredericks to drag me back into the hotel simply because I didn't want to cause a scene in front of the dishy Jason Palmer. Boy, was it a scene. Thankfully most everyone else was out of the building.
"How dare you drag me off like some- some caveman! What right do you have to treat me like an errant puppy to be carted away when she's done something bad? Answer me, da- dagnabit!"
Once back at his office, Mr. Fredericks let go of my arm and went to sit at his desk like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"Come on! I deserve an explanation! Do you even know this guy? And again, where do you get off telling me who I can and cannot talk to? You're only my boss, you're not my father or boyfriend or husband or anything!"
"Are you quite finished?"
"Maybe. You gonna start talking?"
I crossed my arms, super miffed at his nonchalant attitude. For the life of me I could not overcome those idiosyncrasies of his and rise above the frustration and anger that were shining through my oh-so-calm façade.
"Please, have a seat. Is your head bothering you?"
"You're stalling." Still, I sat. I'd learned early on to take every opportunity that presented itself to do just that.
"I'm being considerate. As to the questions you so rudely put to me-"
"Me? Rude? Who's the one who went prehistoric on me and hauled me off like a side of beef?"
"May I continue?"
I could only stare.
"As you said, I am your employer, you are my employee. As stipulated in the contract you signed, you are to follow my instructions without undue complaint or question. I have allowed you certain freedoms with regard to that clause in the past few weeks, seeing as my stay here is not in any way a long-term commitment and it would frankly be too much effort to try and change you or your manners."
Um... a veiled insult?
"I intend to continue allowing you your freedoms as I mentioned earlier, save one condition. Do not associate with Jason Palmer. He is not the kind of man a nice young lady would want to be coupled with."
"I'm sorry?" Had there been flies in the room, a few would have congregated around my open mouth. "I did not just hear you tell me I can't hang out with certain people. Those words did not cross your lips."
"Miss Benjamin, I am your employer, and I expect you to behave to a certain standard when on the premises and during the hours we agreed upon in your contract. I have not made any special requests thus far, and I would like to keep those at a minimum. While you are on my property and working for me, you will stay away from Jason Palmer. It would behove you also to avoid him outside the resort."
"Why? You'd better have a da- dastardly good reason for this."
"That is my business, Miss Benjamin, and I hope you can accept that there are some things I don't wish to discuss."
"So you think that I'm going to drop a budding friendship just because you don't think I should see the guy?"
Good thing he didn't answer. I'd've decked him. My jaw hurt so bad from clenching it and I coulda sworn I heard teeth crack.
Lucky for me I was given the evening off, along with the weekend, and I went home. Not that I particularly wanted to go there, but I needed to get away from White Pine Lodge and Horrible Mr. Fredericks.
Mom was in a fluster when I got home, cleaning the house with a fervour she saved only for gossip.
"Don't you dare step in here with mud on your shoes, kid!" she snarled at me. I didn't see why it mattered, seeing as the linoleum was stained anyway.
"What's going on?" I hissed to Gina, who only rolled her eyes at me.
"Someone's coming over for dinner, apparently," Megan muttered as she passed, carrying a dustpan and an irate cat.
"Who?"
"Your cousin Todd!" Mom yelled from the other end of the trailer.
"Again, who?" I was strangely beginning to miss White Pine Lodge... at least it was quiet there, and you couldn't hear the people next to you. Most of the time, anyway.
"He's your Aunt Marnie's former stepson, you remember, cousin Todd!"
The only Todd I remembered was a fat, greasy dumpling of a boy with beady little eyes made even beadier by thick glasses. In high school he had a scraggly little goatee, half there and half not. He was related to us? Even tenuously?
"Todd Collier?"
"Yeah, him!" Mom said.
"Why?" I wailed. Todd Collier had had a crush on me in high school... I had to miss half my senior prom because he was going to ask me to dance. I would rather not dance than dance with him.
"I don't know! He just called today and said he was in the area, mentioned he hadn't seen us in a while and I invited him to dinner."
"WHY?"
"Because it's the nice thing to do! Now shut up and help clean!"
An hour later and the place was as clean as it could be, given that five women and three cats lived there. Pillows were fluffed, blankets folded, magazines straightened. The bathroom and kitchen were scrubbed, the smell of bleach strong enough to make my eyes water. At least it was a clean smell... Which brought my thoughts around to the bane of my existence, Davlin Fredericks. In the last two weeks he'd gradually stopped, or at least lessened, his cleaning habits. He had started out his stay by going in after the maid and cleaning everything a second time and was now just watching and timing how long she was in the room. The longer she took, the happier he was.
There was not enough Ajax in the world that could scrub his image out of my mind, the look on his face when I was talking with Jason was indelible! Good for me, I suppose. A new way antagonise him without actually antagonising him. Besides, I liked Jason. He was nice.
The sound of a car bottoming out on our driveway heralded the arrival of former cousin Todd Collier, and the man who stumbled out of his vehicle was not much different from the boy I had so studiously avoided in high school. He was a mite taller, maybe, and a touch skinnier, but that didn't say much.
I wished fervently that my dad had been there to see the spectacle.
"My boss is fabulous," Todd said over dinner. The use of that f-word, fabulous, made me question his sexuality. No straight man used that word in any other way but mocking. "Cathy Van Burke has such great taste! I've never met anyone who knows more about winemaking. She inspects everything, from the orchards to the bottles."
"Is the wine in them before, during, or after she inspects them?" I asked. I couldn't help myself! The man was such a goober!
"She carefully monitors the whole process, Elise. Nothing is too insignificant to escape her notice."
The funny thing was, he was serious! It was easy to tell from his tone of voice and that faraway look on his face when he spoke of Cathy Van Burke, owner/operator of Ridgeway Winery out on Old Mission Peninsula. From what I'd heard from friends who worked at any of the orchards out that way, Cathy Van Burke was a supreme bi- supremely bratty, snotty, and self-centred. She was another transplant from one of those urban areas to the south of us, and a transplant with Money.
By the way, once a Fudgie decides to stay and have established themselves in a given community, they cease being a Fudgie. In this area, a transplant becomes a Troll, one who lives under the Bridge: the Big Mac, Mackinaw Bridge. From all reports, Van Burke was a genuine troll, small t and all. I vaguely hoped she would have a few billy goats roaming around her vineyards.
Todd's blithering chatter was mind-numbing, and once again I was wishing to be back at White Pine Lodge. Mr. Fredericks' studied silence was infinitely more preferable to Todd Colliers' inane babbling, and the penetrating glare of the former much more bearable than the leering of the latter. Yes, I was the object of much of Colliers' attention, when it was not fixed on my mother. Lucky, lucky me.
At least the real lucky thing for me was that I had plans for the night, meeting Carla up at Public Parking and going for a drive.
"Well, nice seeing you again, Toddy," I said, jumping up as soon as I could.
The table was cleared with fantastic speed; chores allotment went that whoever set the table, which was me, cleared the table and was done. Leftovers were dumped into containers and hastily thrown into the fridge, making lovely lunches for whoever got to them first. That was the hard part of being in that house: we made a lot of food, but we ate a lot of food, too. Only Gina and Megan managed to get the Tall and Skinny gene from our dad's end of the gene pool. Lydia and myself took after our mother, Short and Fat. And I somehow ended up with carrot orange hair, an extreme oddity on either side. Orange and uber curly hair.
I was almost out the door when Mom stopped me.
"Where are you going?" she asked, as if I hadn't told her some half-dozen times that I had plans for the night.
"Out."
"We have company, young lady." The tone was unmistakeable, and she was ready to make a scene. Oh, joy.
"Yes, well, I had plans before we had company." You invited him, mor- Mother, you entertain him!
"You're just going out for a drive though, right? You can do that any time." Lydia had to add her two cents, my mother's Mini Me. I glared at her.
"I get little enough time to myself to do with as I choose. I'm going out with Carla, I'll be back before midnight."
"Maybe Todd could go with you," Lydia suggested oh-so-sweetly, an idea that was rapturously seconded by Mom. "I'm sure he would like that, wouldn't you, Todd?"
"Oh, well, yes, if you don't mind, Elise," he said, flustered and nearly beside himself with glee. "I could see more of the countryside that way."
The malicious glitter in my sister's eyes was lethal; she didn't want him around any more than I did, and I knew she was jealous that I got to spend so much time with "Dishy Davlin Fredericks," as both she and Mom called my boss. In her mind, sending more time with Toady Toddy would be the perfect revenge, and I had to admit she was right. I have a good eye; I can see a handsome man by daylight, even if he's a stodgy old man personality-wise.
"Fine," I sighed. Gina squeezed my hand as I walked out the door, Todd close by my heels.
"If you don't mind, we're going to walk up to Public Parking," I said, even though it was more than a mile.
"Certainly. A little exercise is vital to maintaining a healthy body."
Maintaining? He certainly had a high opinion of himself, the swine. By the end of the driveway he was huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf, though he was more like the Pathetic Wimpy Wolfcub. I may be pudgy but I wasn't anywhere near as out of shape as he was. Cathy Van Burke must have a little golf cart for him. The best thing about listening to him gasp for air? He couldn't talk and a few scraps of my sanity were saved.
After much heavy breathing on his part and teeth-grinding on mine we reached Public Parking. More explanation: Public Parking is a small lot to the side of the Post Office. It's where the popular kids and other miscreants meet to hang out, drink illegally, and smoke things other than cigarettes. It was the place to be, man. Why? I don't know.
The party was in full swing by the time we got there, though Toady had to step away for a while to catch his breath. If anyone noticed him, they didn't say anything. Most people didn't notice him.
"Who is that?" Carla asked, nodding in his direction.
I quickly filled her in and watched her shoulders droop.
"Is there any way to get rid of him?"
"No fair, I was about to ask you the same thing. I think we're stuck," I said and cringed as he shuffled over, still wheezing a little. "Hi, Todd, this is Carla, one of my friends."
"It's always a pleasure meeting such lovely people," he said, bowing over her hand and even kissing it.
Carla's eyebrow arched. "Gee, thanks. Let's go."
And without further ado we climbed into Carla's raggedy little convertible, ready to enjoy the warm summer night. Toddy sat in the back.
"So, where should we go? Up to Katchpa, over to East Hanover, or down towards Traverse City? Hey! We could go by White Pine Lodge and check in on your boss! Wouldn't High and Mighty Davlin Fredericks love that!"
I glared at her, and pinched her arm once Toady Toddy had something to say. She'd piqued his interest in my job.
"Davlin Fredericks? From Chicago?"
"Yeah."
"I thought as much! There can only be one Davlin Fredericks up in this area-"
"What, you know him?"
The ox didn't register the scorn and rudeness I intended.
"No, not personally, but Mrs. Van Burke speaks of him all the time. He's her nephew, after all, she should. It'll be the merger of a lifetime when he marries her daughter."
"Oh?"
Carla pinched me back. "Ow!" I hissed. At least that subject kept Toady Toddy talking, even though Carla and I had completely tuned him out.
Davlin Fredericks, engaged? Somehow I had a hard time imagining that. He never really struck me as the marrying kind, especially not with that particular habit of his. Heck, those particular habits. Poor girl, whoever she was. Or maybe, even, poor him, if she was anything like her mother. I'd never met the woman and I all ready disliked her. Still, nobody, not even my anal-retentive boss, deserved her for a mother-in-law. Not that mine would be any better.
Drat and double drat! How had my train of thought pulled into that particular station?
Chapter Eight: Sea Foam
I had no luck in escaping Todd the next day; he followed me like some lovesick puppy, far less attractive than my charge back at White Pine Lodge. It was safe to say that I was heartily missing that place by 10 a.m. Sunday morning.
Sunday Morning. The whole town was dead on Sunday mornings; everyone was at church, or if they weren't at church, they were hiding from the ones who were. I was one of the ones hiding. At least I had good company: Jason Palmer joined me for breakfast at a diner nearer to Preston than Rawley, seeing as there was less of a chance to be seen by one of the church-going set.
Jason had been in the area for little more than a week, by popular reckoning, and all ready he was a favourite. He was laid-back, easy-going, never pulled an attitude and always had a good word for everybody. The little teeny-bopper girls adored him for his surfer-dude looks; the guys liked him because he was athletic; the little old men and women thought him perfectly charming and gentlemanly; everyone else just thought he was plain old cool.
Service at the diner was prompt and ever-ready; Lydia's friends were working the counter and it seemed that every few minutes one of them was coming by to freshen coffee or see if everything was going well.
"How long have you been working with Davlin Fredericks?" Jason asked once the food arrived.
"Too long, it seems like. You know him?" Technically, that was a stupid question seeing as Mr. Fredericks' told me to stay away from Jason.
"Used to. My dad worked for him, and we spent a lot of time together as kids. Yeah, he doesn't like me much anymore."
"I noticed. Was he always so-" Oh, what word to use? "Peculiar?"
"Oh, yeah. A real nutcase. Could never have his food touching. And he always expects people to do what he wants."
"Good to know he hasn't changed."
"Well, you see, his dad was awesome, always giving me presents and stuff. Kinda looked on me like a son. Anyway, he promised me a really good job at the company when I finished school, but good old Davlin put a stop to that right away. By then he was in charge. I guess he didn't like that his dad liked me better than him."
"Oh, that's terrible!"
"Yeah, it is. Petty jealousy is always a terrible thing. I'm living proof! See, Davlin Fredericks wasn't happy barring me from that cushy job at one company: he made it damn near impossible to find a half-way decent job anywhere in the country! I'd have to go to Canada to do much more than flip burgers or mow lawns or-"
"Or build houses."
I had no appetite for anything after that. How could anyone, even the perpetually anal and dismal Davlin Fredericks, do something so heinous as ruin a man's career simply out of jealousy? I may not be the most moral and upstanding person in the world, but even I couldn't think about doing that to another human being. I might prevent him or her from getting a job in a certain city, maybe region, but not the whole country. It would take a lot for me to do that kind of thing, too. I'm usually pretty good about resolving those kinds of issues.
"But hey, this job isn't so bad. I get to be outside all day, enjoying the outdoors and occasionally getting a glimpse of that famous Michigan wildlife. I don't think I'd like being stuck in an office all day, this way I'm active all the time. And I'm free to travel. I wouldn't get to do too much of that if I was chained to a desk."
"That's good, I guess, but what kind of stability does a construction job provide if you're constantly on the move?"
"Enough. At least in this region it's continual, gainful employment for 7 or 8 months of the year. And I save enough. Maybe in a few years I'll think about settling down."
I couldn't get my mind off Jason's predicament. Davlin Fredericks? Malicious, jealous pr- pretentious arrogant vindictive beast!
"I can't believe Mr. Fredericks would do such a thing," Gina said later that night. "He doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would dishonour the wishes of a father."
"Believe it, Gina. Mr. Fredericks is an uptight meanie who likes nothing better than seeing other people squirm. There was a ring of truth to everything Jason said, nothing but sincerity in his tone."
"And you are the observant one."
I couldn't tell if Gina was being sarcastic or not, seeing as she has very, very, very little practice at it, for all she is my nearest, dearest sister.
"Besides, why would Jason lie to me? He doesn't have a reason to. You're just too nice." I turned away and started shoving things back into my suitcase. Back to the resort in the morning... back to making that very specific breakfast, right down to the seedless blackberry jam.
"Well, Byron said that he knows a little bit about Jason, and that he's not to be trusted."
"Has Byron ever met Jason?"
"No."
"Then what he knows he learned from Mr. Fredericks! Gina, the truth of the matter is that Mr. Davlin Fredericks did wrong by Jason Palmer and ruined his chances of having a decent career."
The only one happy to see me back at White Pine Lodge had four legs and fur; apparently Mr. Fredericks had issues taking his dog outside for regular play time. That monster of a dog barrelled out of the door and veritably tackled me, knocking me back onto my still slightly sore tailbone.
All the renovations were going well and on schedule; one more week and the main construction would be finished, another two and all the finishing work would be done. Within a month, the newly remodelled White Pine Lodge would be fully operational again and Davlin Fredericks would be gone, out of my life, at least in the immediate sense. I had heard whisperings that he would still be in contact with the manager, whomever that would end up being, and through the manager, me. Have to give credit where credit is due: Mr. Fredericks was able to overlook my supposed shortcomings and, in his own freaky way, respected me. That much I knew.
There were going to be two grand opening parties: One for all the employees, both the ones who actually worked in the resort and those who worked on remodelling it, and one for the general public and/or illustrious members of the community, not excluding the few random celebrities with homes along Lake Michigan. It was a small comfort to me that Madonna hadn't even responded to Mr. Fredericks' invitation. Small only because she was still in England; if she had actually been in the country, let alone the state, her refusal would have been more enjoyable. I couldn't wait for him to be gone!
It should be of no surprise to anyone that I was in charge of organising both shindigs. Candy disapproved, but once it was pointed out that I knew the area better and what there was available, she grudgingly gave her consent. Byron also gave me all his support as well, especially once I suggested that Gina would be the perfect person to help me out. In all actuality, I didn't need her help all that much, but since she hadn't stopped mooning over the handsome ex-athlete and he had been asking after her almost every day, I figured it wouldn't hurt to play Cupid a little. Not that there was much for me to do.
Two caterers were hired, two DJs. Decorations decided upon, purchased and made. While Mr. Fredericks and Byron were busy hammering out details with the actual running of the resort, and while Candy and Sandy were busy with their own decorating and designing, Gina and I fussed and fidgeted, waiting until the guys stopped working and dinner was agreed upon. It was the same every day: Gina and Byron would wander off for a walk in the woods or sit on the pier and talk. Candy would try to engage Mr. Fredericks' attention and fail, then would sit around and sulk with Sandy, who seemed to ignore everyone and everything but Candy. That was a can of worms I didn't want to see, let alone open.
Then there was Mr. Davlin Fredericks. Most nights he just sat in the lounge, reading, Bruno sitting just to the left and within petting range. Or he would be emailing his sister, one or the other. I usually read or went out to enjoy the beautiful nights.
One of the scariest things is when a person so given to habit and routine suddenly breaks said habit or routine. The night before the Employee Party, Mr. Fredericks broke his routine.
"And what are you going to do tonight, Davlin?" Candy asked, as if she didn't all ready know.
I was safely ensconced in an over-stuffed armchair, wrapped up with a good book and a sleepy dog at my ankles; Bruno was all tuckered out from a long day of playing out by and in the lake. Yeah, washing and drying, then brushing, a German Shepherd is not fun at all, even when he's as well behaved as Bruno. Look who his owner is, after all.
"I was thinking of taking a drive," he said.
Had I not been struck completely dumb by his statement, I would have laughed. The whole room had gone completely silent, save for the buzz of electricity in the lamp next to me.
"Oh! That's a wonderful idea. I've heard that the moonlight on Lake Michigan is absolutely gorgeous." Candy gave a saccharine-sweet smile and I could almost see cancer growing in her cheeks. That had to be the boldest move she'd made yet!
"As have I," he replied. "Miss Benjamin, would you care to join me?"
Wow, that electrical buzz was loud! I could feel Candy's eyes boring holes into my head, little lasers she would set to kill if her poor eyesight didn't prevent her.
"You know the area better and might have some decent suggestions."
"Gee, thanks."
There was an honest-to-goodness debate going on in my head. On the one hand, I would get to ride in the Jag. With a supremely good looking Welshman. On the other, that same Welshman was an anal-retentive weirdo bent on ruining my life and those of the people I cared about, namely Jason Palmer (he's cute and interested in me. Smart, funny, and articulate. ‘nuff said, in my opinion). On the other, I'd get to ride in the Jag.
In the end, there really was no decision to be made. Cars win out in the end.
"Sure."
Candy still finagled a spot in the Jag, though she was relegated to the back seat with Bruno. Gina and Byron decided to join us as well, and Sandy suddenly decided she had a headache and stayed behind. I suspected that one of Candy's designer suits would be in shreds when we returned.
Whatever grumbles Candy had about my sitting shotgun she kept quiet. As navigator I got that plum seat and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The top was down on the gorgeous automobile and the roads were just deserted enough so that we could cruise slowly on the way to the lake, just fast enough to beat the sunset. I only had to give two or three directions, seeing as the main high way went straight to the nearest state park.
"See, now, this is stuff you can't get from a computer," Byron said as he and Gina settled down next to each other in the sand.
Davlin walked further down the stony beach and stared out at the setting sun, the redness in the sky bouncing off the water and his white shirt. A breeze ruffled a few curls and for a moment I forgot how much of a jerk he was. Man, but he was handsome!
"How can you say that, Byron? You can get almost anything from a computer. You just have to know where to look."
"Come on, Candy, you can't get this online. Not unless they can simulate the feeling of sand between your toes or that sensation you get when looking at real beauty."
Of course, he wasn't looking at the sky when he said that last bit.
"Still, the internet is such an integral part of everyday life now. Just imagine how much longer it would take if you had to look everything up in a library or wait for the mail every day?"
"Aw, hell, I don't use email all that much. I hate writing. I'm a much better talker, prefer using a phone."
"That's because you can't spell worth a damn and leave out half the words you want to write!"
"Spelling wasn't a focus when I was in school."
I bit my lip at that. Byron was a nice guy, not worth my sarcasm. At least not that night.
"Davlin, on the other hand, writes beautifully," Candy continued. "Everything is perfect when he sets out to accomplish something."
Of course it would be, I thought. Thank you for stating the obvious.
"I do strive for perfection in my work," he said. "But I am far from perfect."
"Oh, certainly. If one was perfect, there would be nothing to work toward."
I was having fun watching this. Mr. Fredericks stared at Candy, sitting there in the sand while she blathered away, a pensive expression on his face.
"...But in all I've observed of you, Davlin, you are as close to perfect as a person can get. I can't detect any real faults in you."
I had to cough at that and covered it with taking a swig from my water bottle.
"A man without fault! How rare are you!" After so many weeks of having to deal with his faults, and knowing full well of my own seeing as he took some pains to remind me of at least one a day, I had to laugh.
"Miss Benjamin!" Candy was shocked that I would do such a thing as laugh at the illustrious Mr. Davlin Fredericks. "That is a very rude thing to do, laughing at a person when it is uncalled for!"
This only made me laugh harder.
"I have faults enough, as anyone may see, but I hope that faults in understanding are not included. My standards are high and I will only yield if absolutely necessary; I have problems forgiving those people who have acted against me and harmed those I care about-in fact, it would be safe to say that once a person loses my favour that it is lost forever."
"I've never said a word about your understanding, Mr. Fredericks," I managed as my laughing fit stopped. "Don't worry about me teasing you about that. And if anyone has lost your favour," as weird as it sounds, this elevated language, "I hope it was for a very good reason."
The night air got very tense, him and me locked into some insane staring contest.
"Everyone has their own failing."
"Yours seems to be to hate everyone and everything not hermetically sealed!"
"And you choose to misinterpret everything that does not gel with your ideals."
His expression was unreadable and after a few moments he broke away, moving again to study the effect of dim moonlight on the breaking waves. It was a long drive back to the resort.
Chapter Nine: Turtle
Posted on Monday, 12 May 2008
The parties, such as they were, went off fabulously. Just ask any casual observer.
Then ask me. Both nights were rough, to be accurate and euphemistic. The first, simply because it was; when all was said and done, there were a lot of employees at White Pine Lodge. And since my family all works there, I could not escape them. To make matters worse, Mom insisted that cousin Toddy come too. All I could do was keep busy.
And of course, as a mark to my own efficiency, that was difficult to do. Thankfully Jason Palmer was there, and he was able to deflect certain awful people from overly bothering me, namely cousin Toddy and Davlin Fredericks. The former followed me like a lovesick puppy, which unnerved me to no end, and the latter made a few attempts to approach me for goodness knows what reason, though he never got very close.
All I can say is thank goodness for Jason Palmer. He saved me from at least two hours worth of inane chatter and idiosyncratic tics. And it was interesting watching him and Mr. Fredericks studiously avoid each other. Entertainment like that is hard to come by, I find. It was certainly better than what my sister provided.
Now, I love my sisters. Kinda have to, seeing as we're related. It does not mean that I have to like them or even speak kindly about or to them. Megan, for all her technical expertise, fancies herself a singer, and a good one at that. The reason for this is that nobody has told her that she had better leave the singing to the drunks at the karaoke bar or at the very least join them there and not impose her warbling on the rest of us.
In all honesty, though, she's not that bad. She's not that good, either. She can carry a tune but it's with both hands. Anyway, the DJ I hired for the employee party decided that he would graciously add in a karaoke machine to the mix and Megan, after enough to drink made straight for it. Her rendition of "Nothing Compares 2 U" was... memorable. I know that I would like to have that memory completely erased from my mind, but luckily by the time she had given in and gotten drunk enough to do it, most everyone else was plastered. A few of us weren't, though we wish we had been.
That, coupled with my mother and youngest sister flirting with anything with an XY chromosome without discretion, helped my evening die with gasping, languorous breaths. The final nail in the coffin was Toddy introducing himself to my boss.
"Not a good idea, Todd," I muttered, once he had declared that he would.
"Oh, but I must! I need to tell him that his Aunt is anxiously awaiting his next visit, and is very put out that he has delayed it so long, what with his being in the area and all."
"Joy."
Mr. Fredericks was quickly found, as he was the only person in attendance other than myself who was not enjoying himself. Gina sidled up to me while I stared in blank disbelief.
"Is he doing what I think he's doing?" she whispered.
"Yep. I'm changing my name as soon as I can justify the money."
"Eh-lise." Gina can manage the exasperated, ‘you're joking, right?' tone quite well.
"Look. He's embarrassing all of us, on top of Mom and Lyddie's rampant trouser-chasing and Megan's insistence on her vocal abilities. I'll never be able to look these people in the face again. Not while I'm associated with this family."
"You're overreacting, Elise. Nobody's going to care in two days what happens tonight. Everyone knows about Megan and Mom and Lydia. Hopefully Todd will be gone soon too, and they'll forget about him in time. It's not that bad."
Gina was tipsy. Byron had her by the hand and was talking to someone else during this interlude, but Gina was... well on her way to being drunk.
"Sure, ducky. Thanks for reminding me."
She grinned that mega-watt grin and giggled, swirling back into Byron's arms for a slow dance. My turn to go check on Bruno.
There was no mention of the employee party all that week, building up to the big public shindig where tickets had sold for over $300 a pop. Only myself and Gina were going to be there, she as Byron's date and me in an official capacity, though I was able to bring a date. Three guesses as to who I asked, and the first two don't count.
The unfortunate thing was that I got a call from Jason that morning saying he had to run down state for the weekend, an emergency something-or-other for work. I was fully prepared to go stag until Lydia, ever the helpful bi- brat, suggested Todd. Naturally, he was keen on the idea and I was unable to talk my way out of it. As mentioned before, I love my sisters, I love my sisters, I love my sisters...
Though I ended up dancing four or five times with Toady Toddy, I managed to keep myself busy enough to avoid him. One more time out on the floor with him and I'd need foot surgery. The head caterer seemed understanding about why I kept checking on him, especially once he saw Todd and his attempt at a foxtrot. I did everything: I brought wine out from the cellars, I brought drinks for the band, I took out garbage. I went and checked on Bruno at least four times; each time he was happy to see me, for all I woke him up. Lucky dog!
With no Jason and an abundance of Todd, I was ready to give up and die. The problems compromising the presence and/or lack thereof of those two people were compounded by a third: Mr. Davlin Fredericks was everywhere I turned! I couldn't get away from him, it seemed, and that drove me stark raving bonkers.
There came an unguarded moment with me chugging water at the rate of half a litre a second-highly improbable, but it felt like it-where Todd caught up with me. Water dribbled down my chin as I tried in vain to find some excuse to take me far away from him, but I came up empty. No trash to take out, the band was watered, caterers catering, and I had just checked on Bruno. I was stuck.
"Elise, I've been looking all over for you! Come on, the band's starting up again. Let's dance!"
"Uh-" As much as I wanted to be crude and tactless, I couldn't just burst out with ‘No, you greasy swine, I don't want to dance with you.' I'd hear it for a month if I did that.
"Actually, Miss Benjamin has all ready agreed to dance the next with me. Isn't that right?"
Davlin Fredericks! Asked me to dance! What the fu- fundamental freak did he mean by that? Mr. Fredericks' hadn't danced with anyone else that night or the one a week previous.
On the other hand... Dancing with Todd would put me in traction and at least Mr. Fredericks was good-looking. And Toady Toddy was in such awe of Mr. Fredericks that he might just leave me alone.
"Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you for reminding me."
The man was wearing gloves. Does this surprise anyone?
"The evening is going very well, don't you think?" I asked after several moments of severe silence.
"Yes."
More silence.
"It's your turn to say something."
"Is it? Can't I simply enjoy the moment?"
"Talking is best, I think. It helps pass the time."
"I thought that was what dancing was for."
"At social functions, talking is better. That way we don't have to say as much."
"Are you following a common social custom here, or do you think you're appeasing me?"
I could not be sure, but I think there was a fragment of humour in his voice.
"Both, I think. Silence lasts forever, and we neither of us like speaking in large groups unless we're going to say something earth-shattering. Besides, neither of us really wants to be here."
"I think you're talking more about yourself than me."
"Really? Then you should certainly talk more, so I can get a better idea of who you are." Gosh darn it, but this song lasted forever...
"You don't want to get to know me better." His frankness surprised me, to say the least.
The music stopped a second after he said that and he let me go. I blinked and tripped a little, regaining my balance before a catastrophe. There had not been one hint of malice in his tone, not one note of warning. It was almost like he had read my mind, or thought he had, and expressed a fact. He was wrong, of course, at least because I wanted to know how his mind worked, convoluted and compulsive as it was.
"What if I said I did?"
"I may or may not believe you."
"And why is that?"
Some people were beginning to stare, so he extended a hand and we began to dance again once the music started.
"You've all ready made your mind up that you don't like me. I don't know why, exactly, but you have. I can only imagine that you are taking cues from others in that, which I would discourage."
Of course he would discourage it, when the information gathered was unfavourable! Naturally he would want to spin things to put him in a better light.
I was interrupted in my reverie by Manny Lucard, who bumped into me and Mr. Fredericks completely by accident, making us stop dancing and break apart, for which I was eternally grateful.
"Party's a smash, innit, Fredericks? I've never seen so many people here, having such a good time! And look, over there, Byron and Gina. Such a cute couple. Hey, have you thought about renting this place for wedding receptions? It'd be gorgeous, and you can start with those two! It's only a matter of time, I think, completely besotted..."
He wandered away after that, leaving me once more with Moody Mr. Fredericks, who was by then glaring in the direction of my sister and Byron Clark. They were a cute couple, really, and seemed to have missed the music change.
"Pardon me, Miss Benjamin," Mr. Fredericks said. He actually bowed and walked away.
He didn't come within ten feet of me the rest of the night and I was strangely disappointed.
I had two days off after the party. That night I went home and burrowed under my sheet, the window a/c unit going full blast and still not able to eradicate the humidity from the air. I couldn't sleep. The conversation with Demented Davlin Fredericks kept playing over and over in my head, and I couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Since I didn't sleep well that night, after finally drifting off somewhere around four and waking up a little before eight, I was in no mood for just about anything. Mom and Lydia were about to head out for a whirlwind day of spending money they didn't have; Megan was ticking away on her computer, and Gina had yet to make it home from White Pine Lodge.
Thank G- Thank Goodness she made it home before Mom realised that she wasn't there. Gina fairly swam in, glowing fresh and rosy.
"I think I'm in love," she sang. Normally, not a problem. That day, it was like she was rubbing it in my face.
"Please tell me you didn't sleep with him."
"Oh, no. Just stayed up all night talking. And he kissed me."
"Joy. Thanks for sharing."
"You're not going to ruin my mood, Elise. There's someone out there for you. Maybe it's Mr. Fredericks!"
I walloped her with a pillow. She laughed. The sound of a car bottoming out on our driveway signalled that someone new was coming; or at least, someone who wouldn't learn how to enter the lane. Todd Collier.
"Elise! Someone special's here to see you!"
"Oh, why?" I wailed, falling back onto my bed.
"Because he likes you," Gina said. "Whether you want him to or not."
Still in my pyjamas, even at ten a.m., I shuffled out into the living room. There he was, the Toady Toddy, in what looked to be a new suit that didn't fit right and holding a single rose.
"Oh, my word," I muttered. "You wanted to talk to me?"
"Please, sit down."
"I'd rather stand, thanks." It would be easier to run away if I were all ready standing...
"Well, all right then," he murmured. He cleared his throat. "Elise, I've reached a point in my life and career where I can slow down a bit and think about me and what I want, and I've found that I'm really lonely. I'd like someone to share my life with, and Mrs. Van Burke agrees with me on that, she says I need someone to take care of me and make sure I don't work too hard and eat well and get enough rest."
"O-kay."
"Which brings me to why I came out here for a visit. I remembered how nice you all were to me when we were still related, so I thought I'd come see you and since then I've felt this real connection to you, you know? You're everything I want in a wife: responsible, efficient, and pretty, and when that's tempered with the restraint and respect that Mrs. Van Burke requires, you'd be my ideal. Whaddaya say?"
It was a very good thing there are not sharp and pointy things around my house, or else they would all have been in Toady Toddy's quivering, gelatinous body. Bad enough that he was making such a half- Half-baked proposal, but to say he wanted to marry me because I was efficient? Responsible? Pretty? Man was delusional. And to marry because he needed someone to take care of him? Puh-lease!
Yeah, I was doing just that for Mr. Fredericks, but I was getting paid for it, and well; I wasn't about to go off and agree to be someone's live-in maid for free.
"I say no. I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."
"I know you're just saying that. Most girls, I understand, are in the habit of saying no first and then mean to accept when asked a second time. I'll come back later."
"I'm not one of those girls. I'm not going to toy with you, Todd. I'm not interested in marrying you. I'm not even interested in dating you, which is my pre-requisite for marriage."
"You can't be serious! I'm a catch! I've got a good job, a good home, and- and it would get you away from here!" At this he gestured wildly around my home, my trailer. "You're not likely to get a better offer!"
"I'll take my chances," I hissed. "Now get out."
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, taking him from Toad to Trout in a matter of seconds, then back to Toad.
"Good-bye," he said. He turned on his heel and walked out.
"Good riddance," I muttered. I sank down onto the battered sofa and turned on the TV. Time for cartoons.
Chapter Ten: Cherry Cordial
The house was a minefield over the next few days. Mom was mad as a wet hen that I had refused Toady Todd Collier and officially was not speaking to me, though she could be heard "not speaking" for miles around. I kept to my room for the most part, seeing as if I was within sight range, I was within abuse range, and that was bad. Not even a call from Dad would calm her down.
Gina, on the other hand, was walking on air. Things were going extremely well for her, with Byron following her around like the big puppy we all knew him to be. If anyone were going to be leaving our little burg of Preston, it would be her. Byron would take her away to Chicago and we'd never really see her again, save on visits. That thought was sad.
As far as I was concerned, I was stuck in Michigan. Jason Palmer had yet to reappear and Davlin Fredericks just got more... weird. He actually tried talking to me on a few occasions, but I was always saved by Ma Bell and I'd have to run off to get the phone. I have never been more relieved to talk in my life.
By the next weekend, things had returned to almost normal. The grand opening of White Pine Lodge was scheduled for the end of the month, a mere two weeks away, and I was busy getting everything ready.
Spa ready? Check.
New linens washed and pressed? Check.
Bathroom goodies stocked? Check.
Housekeeping staff properly trained and threatened with firing if caught stealing the bathroom goodies and/or linens? Check.
Restaurant plates and flatware washed and polished? Check.
Pantry and wine cellar stocked? Check.
Restaurant staff properly trained and threatened with firing if caught stealing the flatware and/or wine? Check.
Pool cleaned? Check.
Windows washed and sparkling? Check.
Electrical and phone/internet wiring installed and working properly? Check.
Front desk staff properly trained and threatened with firing if caught looking at porn on the company computers? Check.
I had everything spic and span, neat and clean, perfectly ordered and ready to go. I was exhausted. And in heels.
Yes, the new dress code had me not only in heels, but a skirt as well. And pantyhose. I had not been made the manager, just the manager's assistant, basically doing the same job I had been with Mr. Davlin Fredericks but without playing with the dog and making those insanely precise breakfasts. I got to be the b- bad cop when a customer complained; I got to breathe fire and brimstone to whichever of our staff stepped out of line. I had the fun job, and I liked it.
I was given this fun job the day before Mr. Davlin Fredericks et al packed up and left. That's right, gone. I would have been fine with that, truly over the moon, save for two things: One, I was losing out on some serious fundage with my return to regular work. I had a raise, actually, but that was still not as good as what Mr. Fredericks had been paying me.
The second thing that I didn't like: Byron didn't say goodbye to Gina. Ever. I knew he had her email address and our phone number, but he never called or emailed, or wrote, or visited. As time wore on, Gina faded a bit, just enough for those who knew her best to notice. She was broken-hearted, naturally, and while most people were content to blame Byron (and thus re-igniting the feud between Rawley and Preston), I knew better.
"Byron would never have left, at least without saying goodbye, if Davlin Fredericks hadn't influenced him!" I hacked into an obliging watermelon, slicing off the end and handing the bowl to Jason.
"I'll believe it. Davlin likes running things his own way."
A few days after the Chicago faction had left, Jason reappeared, and a day or two after that it seemed that everyone knew about Davlin's less-than-nice side. The result was unanimous: Poor Jason Palmer! It was the combination of an all ready established general dislike of the weird man from Chi-town, Jason's sob story, personality, and surf-god good looks. Yes, Davlin Fredericks was handsome, but Jason was drop-dead gorgeous!
Life had pretty much returned to normal, save Gina's heartbreak. Too bad things never stay that way for long. It was Carla's turn to drop a bombshell: She was engaged to Todd Collier!
"But, Carla, why? Toady Toddy?"
"It's not like I've gotten any better offers, Elise. This town's not exactly crawling with decent guys. You seem to have landed the last nice guy. Anyway, he's not completely heinous."
"But- Toady Toddy! You want to be stuck at that stupid winery with Mrs. Van Burke breathing down your neck? You had such plans! What happened to having your own studio?"
"It was a dream. Dreams don't always come true. And I was never like you, Elise. I'm not romantic. I need to get out of here, and if marrying Todd Collier is the only way I can, so be it. Mrs. Van Burke sends him places over the winter, to California and Australia and Europe. I'll be able to get out of Michigan on occasion! I would think you would be supportive of that, and be happy for me."
For a moment I hated myself. She was right, she'd be getting out of Michigan, sort of, in the winters at least. It was an opportunity, even if Toady Toddy was part of the deal.
"I'm sorry, Carla. I am happy for you. It's just gonna take me a little getting used to the idea, that's all. I might even be a little jealous."
At least she laughed at that. This was ending up one weird summer.
August pushed forward, and with it came truly awful humidity. I joked about finding a production of Annie to join, my hair was so frizzy. Nothing helped Gina, though. A month gone and still no word from Byron.
"You know, Gina, Aunt Sarah's been thinking about going down to Chicago in a couple of weeks for that Japanese exhibit. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you tagged along. And you have a load of vacation time coming up that you'll lose if you don't take it." I loved playing Devil's Advocate like this.
"Are you suggesting that I go looking for Byron, since he won't come see me? Doesn't that seem a bit desperate?"
Crickets were playing out in the field behind our house, the night air slightly cooler than the daytime air, but no less thick.
"Who, me? I would never suggest that. Now that you mention it, though- No, Gina, I mean simply that you need to get away from here for a while, and Chicago's a big place. You probably won't run into him, but you could."
"I'll think about it."
She went. That seemed to be the time for travelling, the second week in August; Jason was on his way to a new worksite in the Upper Peninsula. The whole town was sad to see him go, it seemed, and few would apparently miss him more than my dear littlest sister. She insisted on throwing a party for him. Mom provided the libations, and it turned out to be a pretty big shindig, all things considered; I lost track of how many well-wishers there were. It was late when I finally got to talk to him.
"So. And you're leaving now, too," I said.
"I can't help it, Elise. Gotta go where the work is."
"I know. But why does it have to be so far?"
"It's only across the bridge. I'll call, I promise."
He didn't. I should also say that I didn't expect him to; I knew how busy he would be and that he'd be going out. I had low enough expectations of him; it wasn't like we were dating or anything.
About that same time I was invited to visit the newly married Carla Collier and her husband at Ridgeway Winery, a mouthful however it was said. They had a little house across the road, the main view being that of the winery itself, which was situated snugly on top of a hill, the various vines and the like making all in all a very pretty picture.
"Todd likes to keep an eye on the winery at all times," Carla said as she gave me the penny tour.
"So his office is right here. Excellent."
"And he can see when Mrs. Van Burke comes and goes, and he will often rush out to see if she needs anything from him. Occasionally she will come in to see if I need anything from her, and never leaves without dispensing some advice."
"Such a helpful neighbour."
"And landlady. Thankfully she never goes much further than Todd's office."
"Which is why you like to be in the living room," I said, grinning. The living room overlooked the pretty part of Grand Traverse Bay.
"Naturally. It's very quiet here, and I can escape some of the more mundane parts of life."
Those mundane parts of life didn't need explaining. We both knew what they were.
"One more thing, Elise. We've been invited to dinner up at the big house. It seems Mrs. Van Burke has company."
"Joy."
If I had know just who comprised Mrs. Kathy Van Burke's company, I would have faked a headache and stayed home!
The first of the two guests was fine, no problem with him: A handsome young man, a little older than his companion, fresh open face, generally pleasant kind of guy. The second... Mr. Davlin Fredericks! Despite my dismay, I forced a smile that I hoped wasn't too obvious.
"Ah, you must be Miss Elisa Benjamin," the lady who could only be Kathy Van Burke said.
"Yes, I am," I replied. "And it's Elise, not Elisa."
The woman studied me like I was some insect in a display. I could almost feel the needle through my belly. It was difficult not to squirm, but I managed. I used the time to study both her and her daughter, a mere slip of a thing, too emaciated by half and ghost-pale. Not a very inspiring person, Miss Anne Van Burke, unless that inspiration was of pity or sickness.
Dinner conversation was mostly a one-sided affair, with Kathy Van Burke supplying it. Mr. Fredericks and Anne said nothing, Carla got maybe a word or two in, Freddy Richardson (who turned out to be Davlin's cousin) said what he could, and Toady Toddy was his usual sycophantic self. Then the Van Burke bi- woman turned her attention to me.
"So tell me, Elisa, where exactly do you live?" She ignored my correction.
"How do you mean, Mrs. Van Burke?"
"What is your living situation? Certainly you've managed well enough for yourself, working for my nephew these last few months."
"I have, thank you, though it's none of your business my financial state." A moment of stony silence-I'd apparently hit a nerve, but continued on. "I live with my mother and sisters."
"Your sisters must be very young, then," the woman continued. She all ready had a neat little rosy picture of my family set in her head.
"The youngest will be finishing high school next year." If she doesn't drop out.
"What, all of you living at home yet when you should be out making your own way? What a strain on your poor mother!"
"Well, now, my mom wasn't too keen on all of us moving out, and we all contribute to the care and upkeep of the house. It's an ideal situation, really, especially in this economy. I can focus on paying off my student loans without having to worry about making rent."
"Oh, so you have a degree, then? What about your other sisters?"
"I can't help but wonder why you're interested in knowing all this, Mrs. Van Burke."
"I simply wish for information, girl! Is any of this highly classified?"
"No, it's simply personal! We all run our own lives, thank you, and don't necessarily need guidance."
Another wonderfully silent silence followed.
"And what did you study, Miss Benjamin?" Kathy Van Burke said.
"Photography, Aunt."
I nearly choked on my water. Davlin Fredericks, answering for me, and in my defence!
"Oh, we have to talk!" Freddy said, relieved for a moment to break the tension. "I've got some questions for you."
Anyway, that shift in focus lasted only long enough for dessert to be demolished. Afterward it was brought right back to me when Kathy Van Burke spotted me talking with Freddy.
"Now, really, Elisa, don't you know it's rude to focus your attention on just one member of the group?"
Todd naturally chimed in, which gave her the appropriate segue into a lecture on rudeness and the general state of society, as far as manners were concerned. I got the distinct impression she didn't think very highly of Northern Michigan, or the people who lived there, myself the obvious target and example she drew from for that diatribe. I think I cracked a tooth or ten that night alone, clenching my teeth as tightly as I did. Luckily Freddy was able to distract both myself and Kathy with intelligent questions that I answered, but she had problems with. Score one for the little guy!