"Good night, my dear."
We left her, and I took Maggie's hand, leading her back into the inn and up the stairs to the main floor. I wanted to head straight for our room, but Maggie paused at the landing. "More people," she whispered, and was off before I could protest.
The older woman we'd seen earlier, again sat on the plush loveseat. Across from her in a wing chair sat an overweight, balding, weary-looking man of about the same age, thumbing through an old issue of National Geographic. An old-fashioned glass filled with amber liquid—scotch I guessed—sat on the table next to him.
"Hi," Maggie said. The woman looked up from her novel but said nothing. "I'm Maggie Brennan and this is my friend, Jeff Resnick."
"Nice to meet you," the man in the wing chair said. An air of defeat seemed to hover around him. "Fred Andolina, and this is my wife, Kay."
"How do you do," Kay said stiffly. She looked at Maggie with downright suspicion. Then her gaze drifted to me and she stared, as though memorizing my face.
"It sure was a gorgeous day," Maggie said, trying to inject life into the already doomed conversation.
"Yes," the woman said, her eyes still fixed on me, making me feel downright uncomfortable.
"We're just here for the weekend—" Maggie blathered.
The woman finally looked away. "How nice," she said, an edge to her voice. Her gaze dipped back to her book. It seemed like she was nearly as unnerved as me.
Maggie seemed to have missed the little staring contest. Puzzled, she just stood there. I snagged her arm. "Come on, Maggs."
"Good night," she tried, but there was no answer from the two.
We were on a different—lower—economic level than the other guests in the place. Our clothes, our car—we—were totally outclassed. My millionaire brother, Richard, had fewer pretenses and more money than all of them put together, but his manners were better. I guess that's the difference between his old money and Susan's nouveau riche clientele.
I started up the stairs and stopped so fast that Maggie nearly ran into me. "Damn. I just remembered, I promised Brenda I'd call to let her know we got here."
"Well, one of the charms of a country inn is there're no phones in the rooms." Would my cell phone even get a signal so close to the mountains? Maggie was thinking the same thing. "If you can’t get a signal, they actually have a pay phone down by the kitchen," she said.
I gave her the room key. "I'll only be a few minutes."
"Okay." She sounded depressed.
"Don't let that stuck-up bitch upset you. You're every bit as good as anyone here. We both are."
"I love you," she whispered, kissed me quickly, and started back up the stairs.
I made my way to the kitchen, and out the back door. No one was in the pool or hot tub. I pulled out my cell phone and found I’d forgotten to charge it. Had I brought the charger? I went back inside, which wasn’t exactly private, but even if I drove down the road, was I likely to find another pay phone? Ted and Laura still played pool, but their voices seemed far away. I dropped in a couple of quarters and dialed.
I'd fibbed to Maggie. I hadn't promised my sister-in-law I'd call, but I felt a need to connect with my home base. Besides, the weird feelings I'd gotten from Eileen gave me an excuse to ask a medical question. Since my brother's a doctor and my sister-in-law's a nurse, it didn't matter who answered the phone.
An operator came on the line. "Collect call from Jeff," I said. The phone rang three times before Brenda picked up and accepted the charges.
"Hi, Brenda. Is Rich around?"
"He went to Antonetta's to pick up a pizza. What's up?"
I glanced at my watch: It was 10:10. Kind of late for a pizza—at least for them. "Can you get infected from being in a hot tub?"
"Whoa, you don’t waste time with small talk.”
“Sorry.”
“The answer is, of course," she said, sounding flip. "There're lots of organisms that can live very nicely in that environment."
"Such as?"
"I once read about a whole cruise ship that was exposed to Legionnaire's Disease. It was airborne. They traced it to the hot tubs. If someone has chlamydia they can spread via a hot tub. I'd stay away from it if I were you."
"Okay. Thanks."
"Has somebody there got a social disease?"
"Maybe. I don't know for sure."
"Uh-huh." She didn't push for more answers. "So what's the place like?" she asked, her interest genuine.
"Okay, but not all it's cracked up to be." I told her about the inferior accommodations that we, as unpaid help, had been given. Then I told her about cleaning up the front of the house to take the photo.
"If that's the way they are, don't you dare set foot in that hot tub."
"I won't. Is everything okay at home?"
"Nothing to complain about. Is that all?" She knew me well.
"I've got a feeling something big is going to happen. I'm getting very weird impressions."
Brenda was well acquainted with the consequences that followed my funny feelings. Her tone changed to concern. "Be careful, Jeffy." She's always called me that. "When are you coming home?" She was starting to sound like my mother.
"Monday."
"Okay," she said. "Take care of my girlfriend, now."
"I will. Say hi to Rich for me. Tell him—" I hesitated, remembered that sense of urgency I'd felt earlier when we'd passed that curve on the highway.
"Jeffy?" she prompted.
"Tell him ... to eat a slice of pizza for me."
"Okay, hon," she said, not disguising her worry. "Bye-bye."
"Bye." I hung up.
I was glad I'd called, but talking to her hadn't reassured me. Like a kid away from home for a first-time sleep over, I found I missed Richard and Brenda.
Was it them or the safety and security they represented?
I took the back route through the kitchen to the stairs that led to the living room.
What was I afraid of anyway?
That was it. I just didn’t know.
The Andolinas had left the living room by the time I made it back upstairs, and I realized that Susan and the elusive Zack hadn't made an appearance all evening. It looked like I was never going to meet our host, which suited me fine. But then the door to the Dawson's residence opened and they headed straight for me. I made like I hadn't seen them and took another step, but Susan's voice stopped me.
"Jeff, this is my husband, Zack."
I stepped down. Just looking at the guy gave me the creeps. Tall and lanky, he had a shock of pure white, perfectly trimmed hair that formed a halo around his thin, smooth face. His sly expression reminded me of a used car salesman. He extended his hand, his smile as phony as a three dollar bill. "Glad to meet you, Jeff."
Courtesy demanded I shake hands and, as anticipated, I got another unwanted blast of emotion. Anger, tinged with desperation, boiled from him. An argument—over money. A matter of survival. The intensity startled me, and I quickly pulled back my hand, stuffing it in my jeans pocket.
"Susan says there's a problem with the photography." There was no mistaking the challenge in Zack’s voice.
"No problem. Except for time. We'll set up in the dining room after breakfast tomorrow. Then we'll get some shots of the common areas."
"I spoke with Ms. Marshall," Susan said. "You can take pictures of her room tomorrow morning while she conducts business off the premises. I'll have Nadine make up her room first and you can get started right after breakfast." For all the sweetness in her voice, her eyes seemed sharp as a raven's.
"Fine."
"Is your room okay?" Zack asked, to taunt or to placate?
"Not really. Do any of the other unfinished rooms have a working shower?"
He shook his head. "Sorry. Plumbing's next on the agenda. But let me know if you have any other problems."
As Maggie and I were just a means to an end for them—free publicity—they could have put a little more effort into assuring our comfort. What did Maggie feel she owed this woman?
"It's been a long day," I said.
"Even longer for us. We've been working since dawn," Zack said.
Maggie and I were on the road long before sun up. Didn't he realize how far we'd driven? Hadn't Susan told him about the yard work we'd done? Hadn't he even noticed?
I squelched my anger. "Good night," I said, and turned back for the stairs. I wanted to close my eyes and lose myself to eight blessed hours of unconsciousness. Something told me it wouldn't happen that easily.
The door to our room was ajar. I closed and locked it behind me—a useless gesture, as the flimsy lock could probably be opened with a toothpick. Maggie was on the bed, lying on top of the spread, reading her book. Clad in her filmy satin nightgown, she looked far more charming than any of the surroundings, making me wish I didn't feel so tired.
Maggie turned the page of her novel, not bothering to look up. "Are you sure you don't want to use the hot tub? It's a great way to relax."
I leaned against the door. "I don't want to smell like chlorine. Especially since we don't have a shower."
"Oh ... I guess you're right." She sounded disappointed.
I was tempted to blame her for everything that had gone wrong. But how could I when she was just as much a victim of the place?
"I met our host."
She looked up, my tone warning her of my mood. "You don't sound impressed."
"Let's just say he and Susan deserve each other."
She closed her book, tensing for a fight. But that's not what I wanted.
"There's some serious anger going on between them, only I can't tell where it's directed," I said. "I hope you don't mind, but I don't want to spend a lot of time with either of them."
"I'm sorry."
I pushed away from the door and sat on the edge of the hard bed, kicking my shoes off. "Don't keep apologizing." It came out sounding a lot sharper than I'd meant. She glanced away, her eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry, Maggs. Please don't cry. There's so much emotion spilling out of every corner of this place, it makes me feel sick."
She wiped a hand across her eyes. "It doesn't take a psychic to know we're not really wanted here."
I winced at her use of the 'p' word.
"Hey—" I pulled her close. "I want you. I think you're the prettiest, most desirable, nicest person here."
She blinked back tears as mirth brightened her eyes. "You're only saying that because it's true."
I pulled back. Her funny, little-girl smile made me laugh. "No more apologies. We'll make the best of it. We'll go home, and next weekend we'll go on vacation in my loft. I'll cook you wonderful dinners—" Her eyes rolled at that boast. "—and pamper you, and we'll take long showers together in my fully functional bathroom.”
Her smile broadened. I kissed the tip of her nose and rose from the bed, peeled off my shirt, and headed for the bathroom.
"It's not fair," she called. "You've got a shortcut to knowing if you should trust or even like people."
"I can't read everybody. I can't always read you. I can't read Richard at all. Just sometimes I know some things about some people. Unfortunately, I seem to know a lot of things about a lot of the people here."
She padded to the bathroom door, watching me as I finished undressing. "If you know so much, tell me just one thing about one person."
I turned to the mirror over the sink. "No."
"Why not?"
"It'll not only change the way you think about that person, but the way you act toward him or her, too. And you can't do that. You have to give people their privacy."
"Why?"
"Because it's just good manners." I wasn't getting through to her. I squirted toothpaste on my toothbrush. "I don't feel comfortable blabbing what I know about people. It's not stuff they'd want you to know. It's like Big Brother watching. Nobody should have to worry about that.”
I began to brush my teeth, but I could see she wasn't appeased. I spit and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. "Just what do you know about Laura Ross?" I asked.
"Only her name. Not that I'm a fan of that magazine. It's a bit pretentious for me."
"Pretentious? With a name like American Woman?"
"More like the American Woman Snob. It's not something
this
American woman can relate to." Her eyes were wide, and I could see my diversion wasn't successful. "Come on, Jeff. Tell me something about one of the other guests," she pleaded as I put my toothbrush back into my travel kit. "Please, Jeff?" She sounded like a little kid.
I tried not to meet her gaze, because Maggie's blue eyes can bore right through to my soul, I weaken and almost always regret it.
"Jeff?"
I looked at her and let out a weary sigh. "Okay. Eileen Marshall isn't here for just a business trip. She came here to meet her married lover."
"Mr. Andolina?" she guessed. They were roughly the same age.
I shook my head.
She turned away. "What a bitch, trying to steal someone’s husband." Maggie’s marriage had been destroyed by an interloper, only her husband had been attracted to another man—not a woman.
"See, I told you it would change the way you think about her. A couple of minutes ago you thought she was a charming woman, and probably hoped she'd help you sell your writing."
"That was before I found out she's trying to destroy someone's marriage."
"Maggie, you don't know that."
"Why else would you come to the same inn as your lover and his wife if you didn't want to break up the marriage?"
"I don't know. And you don't know. If Eileen's lover was a cheat, he was a cheat before he got here."
"Who? Who is it?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to know. Besides, Eileen's lover may have nothing to do with anyone at the inn. It could be someone who lives in the area."
"Well, if I knew, I'd tell the wife. She deserves to know."
"It’s not fair to judge people without knowing all the facts."
"Now you sound like Richard."
"Thanks for the compliment." I switched off the bathroom light. "Can we just go to bed?"
"To sleep?" she asked, disappointed, but she was still radiating anger as she folded down the bedspread.
"If you don't mind.”
Maggie wouldn't look at me. She turned off the overhead light, got into bed and pulled the sheet up to her shoulder, her back toward me. I crawled in and stared at the darkened ceiling, counting to ten. Rolling onto my side, I put my arm around her and we lay together like spoons. Her anger had cooled, and her hand snaked down to clasp my arm. "'Night, Jeff."
"Good night, love."
Time dragged.
Maggie's body relaxed as she drifted off to sleep. Tired as I was, my mind refused to shut down. I found myself analyzing all the odd emotions I'd encountered from the people I'd met that day.
And I wondered which one of them was going to die.