Penelope's Suitors

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Spring, 2006

On Sunday afternoon Ted kissed Miranda goodbye.

"Tell me again why you're driving upstate?"

"To close the door on a few memories. To help an old friend." She looked at him dubiously over the remnants of their brunch in one of the little bar/restaurants on 2nd Avenue, and absently traced a finger around the rim of her empty Mimosa glass.

"That old friend wouldn’t be Miss Penelope Tolford, would it?"

"Are you jealous?" He smiled at her, and she shook her head.

"You're doing it again, trying to change the subject by answering my question with another question. This is about the Tolfords, isn't it? Will you get an article out of it? A book?"

"I'll be back in a few days, and then I'll tell you all about it. As for a book—who knows?" She leaned in to him and reduced her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"This all sounds very intriguing. Can I be your Watson?" He matched her tone and leaned in to meet her.

"I may need some research while I'm away. Stand by the phone and computer. If I call or email I'll use the password 'swordfish.' If I don’t use it, call the FBI. Until I come back, trust no one."

"What if you're captured?"

"I have a cyanide pill in my shoe. My last thoughts will be of you. Write me a nice obit." He paid and they kissed on the sidewalk.

"Thank you for brunch. Please do let me be your research assistant if you need anything. And when you get back, you'll buy me a nice dinner and tell me all about it."



Ted retrieved the rental car from the garage, tossed a small suitcase and laptop computer into the backseat and got behind the wheel. He took a deep breath, then pulled onto the street.

Once past convenient commuting distance, beyond Rockland County, the landscape became rural. The road wasn't crowded, and after a few hours Ted found himself among the mountains. The highway sometimes cut through mountains and the rock face towered above the cars. In other places, the road went over a mountain, opening green vistas on the other side.

He hadn’t thought to look up directions, or even bring a map, but the way came back to him, and he began to feel like a kid again, at the start of summer vacation.

Suddenly, the road peaked and the lake was laid out beneath him, reflecting the setting sun. He used to be so excited seeing it for the first time in a year; now, it had been two decades. The highway headed down to the lake, and Ted got off at the Fort Bramwell exit.

The town was dead quiet in the off-season; most of the motels were closed. Ted drove slowly along Amherst Street. The Skee-ball center was still there, but wasn't open. The cheap jewelry store down the block had become an "aroma therapist." Several former snack bars had been cobbled together, refurbished, and labeled "The Adirondack Gallery."

The county courthouse hadn't changed, and the park looked the same. Ted slowed down to get a closer look, then shook his head and speeded up. Forget memory lane; Ariadne was expecting him for dinner.

Ted had called her a few days before, and she was thrilled to hear from him. "Listen, Ariadne. I don't know what your sister told you, but for some reason I'm taking another look into…into what happened that summer."

"Yeah, Penelope told me. And she probably told you that I'm on the edge of a nervous breakdown and if you upset me they'll have to cart me away in a straitjacket. She was always protective of me, but I'm okay, really. Whatever I can do." She had indeed offered a room at her house. He told her he didn't want to be in her way, so had booked at the Mohawk Hotel, but he accepted her dinner invitation.

From Fort Bramwell he took Route 18 north. A few lakeside resorts had become expensive condo communities, but many were still operating, and Ted saw maintenance workers getting them ready for the summer season. At the top of a hill, he saw the weather-beaten Twelve Pines Resort sign, perhaps a little more faded than he remembered. He pulled into the Stone House driveway, and looked up at Penelope's room.

A light was on and Penelope was looking down at him.

He blinked. No, it was a little girl—it must be Ariadne's daughter, Karen, but she had a black braid and a pale face, like her mother and aunt. She was looking down at him with a serious expression, and then she stepped away from the window.

The front door was already opening when he approached it, and Ariadne was there. She hugged him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"It's great to see you, Ted. Come on in. Can I get you a beer? You guys used to like beer."

"The only thing that's changed is that no one cards me anymore."

"Have a look around—we redecorated a few years ago. We toned down the living room, made it more of a family room." There was none of the cool simplicity of Penelope's apartment here: comfortable overstuffed chairs and a matching couch, and small tables full of photos. Bookshelves lined two walls, as Ted had remembered. Over the fireplace mantel hung a large oil painting.

"I know that. That's Langton Island, seen from the East—the artist got the coloring perfect. It's really good—someone local?"

She flushed. "Actually, yes. Me. I started painting in high school, but I only became serious about it six or seven years ago. You can't see from the road, but we added a studio to the side of the house."

"Can I get a tour of it?"

She shook her head. "I'm too shy. I wouldn't have even hung that one, but Dad said it was perfect there, and Penelope backed him up, so there was no resisting them. Oh there you are…come meet my friend." The girl he had seen in the window had joined them. Even closer up, there was no denying the family resemblance. The face was soft and rounded, like her mother's, but the grave expression around her eyes was Penelope's.

"Karen, this is an old friend of mine. Say hello to Mr. Jellinek."

"You can call me Ted." Karen shook his proffered hand.

"I've seen your picture," she said. "You're in love with Aunt Penelope."

"Karen!" yelled Ariadne.

Ted laughed. "Someone's been talking about me," he said. Karen walked to a table in the corner of the room. From a gathering of family photos she plucked an oversized photo in a Lucite frame, and handed it wordlessly to Ted.

"I remember this. My copy is probably still in a closet at my parents." An old school friend of Maxwell's had become a well-regarded portrait photographer, and while vacationing at the resort, he had assembled the entire staff on the beach for a group photo.

Maxwell sat in an Adirondack chair, wearing crisp chinos and a Polo shirt, his legs casually crossed, and everyone else stood around him. Ted found himself with the other Hall boys: He and Vic were grinning. Matthew looked a little stiff. William held his guitar. Upfront stood a smiling Mary-Lou, in a red bathing suit with a silver whistle around her neck. Among the waitresses he found Laurie; even the bland uniform didn't hide her sensational figure. Joan and Stanislaus stood next to each other. She stood ramrod straight, and he cradled his pipe, looking uncomfortable. In front of them posed the proper Mrs. Bretton.

The Tolford sisters flanked their father, wearing identical khaki shorts and blue tee-shirts emblazoned with the resort’s logo. Ariadne's smile was full; Penelope's was dutiful.

"That's you," said Karen. "There's Mommy, Grandpa, and Aunt Penelope. I know everyone here. That's Matthew. He also loved Aunt Penelope. That's Vic. He and Laurie—"

"You know, Karen, I think dinner is ready. Why don't you put the photo back and wash your hands." She glared at her mother for a moment, but Ariadne stared her down, and she did what she was told.

"Little pitchers," said Ted.

"I found that out. Come into the dining room. Nothing fancy tonight. A roast chicken, scalloped potatoes, and a salad."

"Sounds like a proper Sunday dinner. At your sister's, I just got takeout."

"Well, cooking is one area at least where I have her beat. Have a seat; I'll be right out."

The chicken was perfectly cooked and juicy, and the potatoes light and fluffy. The salad dressing was a homemade vinaigrette. During dinner, Karen told him that she was finishing second grade, and next year she would be able to use the "big" art room in the school, so she could paint, just like mommy.

Afterward, Ariadne served an apple tart she had baked earlier that day.

"I ought to come here more often. It's like being back home."

"Well thank you. Karen helped me with the baking. Now young lady, I think you should get ready for bed."

"Can't I have another—"

"No. Now get into your nightgown and brush your teeth." Ted and Ariadne cleared the table. "I usually read her a book in her room. Then we can talk."

"If tonight's not convenient…"

"No, tonight's fine. Help yourself to another beer if you want." Karen came down, in a pink flannel nightgown.

"I'm ready, Mommy."

"I'll be right up, sweetie."

"Mommy, do you have your artist club this Wednesday?"

"Yes, but not here." Karen pouted. "I'm a member of the Adirondack Artists' Guild, a fancy name for a support group slash social club. Karen loves it when it's my turn to host, because they make a fuss over her and she eats it up, don't you sweetie?" Karen made a face.

"Will Joan babysit?"

"Joan is busy that night. Her niece Ellie will sit."

"Ellie is boring. She just talks to her boyfriend on the phone."

"Oh no! No one to spend the whole evening devoting themselves to keeping you amused. How will you survive? Come on sweetie, bedtime. Ted, make yourself comfortable, I'll be right down."

Alone in the living room, Ted went back to the group photo. It seemed like 100 years ago. Then he walked to the mantle, to study the landscape. Ariadne really had done an extraordinary job with the light, capturing the way the brilliant sunshine would illuminate the mountains. Each leaf was visible in a dozen shades of green, and the water was almost too bright to look at.

Ariadne came down the stairs. "I'm glad you like it. I admit it's one of my favorites." She collapsed in the couch, and Ted sat in a chair opposite her.

"I gather Joan has moved from cabin cleaner to favored babysitter."

"Oh yes. She more or less stepped in as nanny, housekeeper, chauffer, occasional cook. Her boys are long out of the house, and, you probably don't know, but she's divorced, too. Money was tight, so this is working out well for both of us."

"You mentioned you had the world's worst divorce. I'm sorry."

"If the divorce papers had taken a few more weeks to process, I wouldn't have been a divorcee. I'd be a widow. Did you know it was actually possible to drink yourself to death? My ex actually managed to do that, and absolutely nothing I could do could slow it down. We met and married in California, and after his death, Karen and I came back here. Frankly, Ted, I fell apart." She had the same haunted look he saw at the funeral.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay now. But it took me a while to pull myself together—I don't know how I would've managed in those months without Penelope. She came out West and got me and Karen and brought us back. She seemed surprised when I wanted to move here, but I was younger when Dad brought us here. She always thought of New York City as home, but this was always home to me. And Karen loves it."

"She's in your sister's old room? I saw her from outside and it was startling, seeing another girl with a long braid in that room."

"The female genes must run strong in us. Penelope and I look like our mother, and Karen takes after us, too. Karen wants me to grow out my hair so can be all the same."

"But I think your new haircut is very flattering." Like she did at the funeral, she self-consciously touched her hair. "Still, I was surprised to see you shorn. A particular reason?"

"It was purely practical. I can make a braid easily—as girls, Penelope and I would do each other's hair. But I was absolutely incapable of braiding my own hair. Penelope could. She could reach back and do her own hair. But with her on her way to college, I was left with unmanageable long hair. Dad brought me into the city one weekend and told his secretary to take me to the best stylist in Manhattan. Anyway, it's a lot easier to take care of. Penelope won't even discuss cutting hers, and Karen is equally adamant."

"Well she's a pretty girl, and reminds me of you two when we were children here. It must be nice, being back here, watching her play on the grounds as you once did. I understand some people we knew are still here."

"Oh yes. For example, I often run into your old girlfriend at PTA meetings."

"Mary-Lou—"

"Married, with children. We talk about the old days sometimes."

"Do I ever come up in conversation?"

"Nope." And then Ariadne burst out laughing—it lit up her face, and for a few moments she looked like the 15-year-old he remembered. "Oh my, you should've seen the look on your face. Such male arrogance to think she still thinks of you after 20 years. And they say women are vain."

Ted was a little abashed at being so transparent. "Well, for what it's worth, I sometimes still think of her. What about Matthew? Laurie?"

"Laurie works in the village. I still see her too, and you can tell your old friend Vic she's still a knockout. I don't see Matthew so much. He's always working, made quite a success of himself. He married a local girl, stupid but sweet, works on every committee, so I see her a lot. I have the local phone book if you want to get in touch."

"Actually, I do. And Joan, Stanislaus. How to put it—I want to tie up some loose strings, on behalf of your sister."

"I know. You want to find out what happened above the beach 20 years ago."

"That's about it. You were there that evening, weren't you?" She leaned back in the couch and sighed.

"Oh yeah. But you weren't, were you? You took off with Mary-Lou?"

"Picking up a stranded guest."

"That's right—I remember now. I was down by the fire, business as usual. William was playing. Then it started to drizzle, and Vic said he was opening up the Hall and moving the party inside. Dad was traveling of course, and I knew Penelope would also frown on that, but we went anyway."

"So Penelope was not down at that point?"

"No. She was up in her room."

"What about William?"

"Now that's the odd part. I can't remember exactly. I don't remember him playing in the hall." Her eyes slid away from him. "Maybe I have a William block, because of what happened. I remember Denise trying to help him put his guitar away. Remember her, that odd little girl who had such a terrible crush on him?"

"I met with her last week."

"No! Do tell!" She leaned forward, all excited. "Still punked out and living in a lower Manhattan walk-up?"

"Not exactly. A prosperous East Side housewife and mommy, with a CPA husband."

"It's always that way, isn't it?" she sighed. "I don't suppose her husband is anything like William."

"Would William be like William if he were still with us?"

"If you're too philosophical, I might cry," she said, and leaned back again. "Where were we? Oh yeah, it started to drizzle, and Denise was making a fuss over William's guitar. I didn't stick around to watch. I was with Vic and Laurie as he opened the Hall, and soon everyone poured in. We turned on only a couple of lights, for atmosphere."

"Did William ever show up?"

"No—actually, I'm pretty sure of that. The last time I saw him he was putting his guitar in its case." She looked up at the ceiling, and he wondered if she was okay. In a moment she looked at him again.

"How about Denise?"

"Oh gosh. I can't be sure. She tended to sulk when he wasn't around, and she didn't even have Penelope to suck up to. It was dark in there, and dressed all in black as she was, she tended to blend into the background."

"Good point. Maybe she went looking for him."

"Probably. She usually was following him around. Anyway, when it became clear William wasn't coming back, someone found a radio in the back and turned it on, we started playing Ping-Pong. People slipped in and out."

"Did you know Penelope came looking for you?"

"Figures."

"So you don't remember?"

"Remember every time she was looking for me? Right. Anyway, I was out on the docks at one point. That was probably when she came looking for me."

"You were walking alone—in the rain?"

"It was only drizzling, and we took ponchos from the back."

"We?"

"Yes, 'we.' With a guest, to get some air. His name was Jimmy. Or Johnny. Something like that. He was trying to get up the nerve to kiss me."

"Did he?"

"No," she said sadly. "I wish he had. Well, he went back to his cabin. And at some point, Matthew went looking for William. I don't know when, or really, why. I mean, William did a lot of disappearing when he got tired of people. Anyway, it was getting late, and I was getting bored so I went back up the house. I was in my room when I heard the doorbell ring—I came out and saw Matthew and Penelope talking. He looked so awful, they both did, and then he told me…"

Ariadne buried her face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry," said Ted.

"It's okay. I'm being stupid." She looked up, dry-eyed. "What next? He said Vic was calling the police and then Matthew said something about reaching Stanislaus—"

"It’s okay. I know the rest." More of his own memories came back. The more he thought back, and the more he talked to other people, the more memories he found he had. One thought triggered another, and they were starting to fall like an avalanche. "But I’d like to get back to earlier in the summer. Something about your sister."

"Before or after you stopped chasing her and started going with Mary-Lou?" she said with an effort at a smile.

"And you wonder why your daughter is such a wise guy. I'm talking, I guess, around the beginning of August, although this may have happened earlier. At some point, I don’t know if you remember, but you felt Penelope was disappearing evenings and becoming secretive. It probably has nothing to do with anything, but I wondered if you remembered, and if you ever figured out why." He waited patiently. Ariadne looked down and was silent for more than a minute.

"Penelope was in love," she said softly. "She had a boyfriend. I only found out later. She kept it very secret."

"Why?" Ariadne made a faint smile.

"It was with Nick Jayston. Mr. Jayston. Her math teacher."

"Oh dear God," said Ted. "What a Peyton Place! Penelope and a teacher. Well, that answers a lot of questions."

"It's not as sordid as you think," said Ariadne. "He was probably only around 25 himself and single. And they were friendly but didn't become involved until that summer, after graduation. Still, it would've ruined his career if anyone had found out. He couldn’t even bring her back to his place because he rented rooms in town. A friend had a cabin for fishing up north he rarely used. Nick would pick her up discreetly along Route 18."

Ted couldn't get the smirk off his face. "I didn't see that coming," he said.

"If Penelope found out I told you, she'd kill both of us."

"The secret is safe with me."

"I'm only telling you because I don't want you poking around further into her life. This has nothing to do with William, so you can forget it. And I thought you loved her—so why do you have that grin on your face?"

"I'm just picturing your sister sitting in the front row, making sheep eyes at this Mr. Jayston as he scribbled quadratic equations on the board. But you're right—I'm being adolescent. Tell me, as her sister, did he make her happy?"

She smiled warmly this time. "Yes, I believe he did. It obviously had to end when she went to college. He didn't hang around here much longer anyway. He was from the Midwest originally, and I heard he moved to Chicago and got a job in a suburban school district."

"Well, if he gave her a happy love affair, I'm big enough to be happy for her. Even in retrospect." He looked at his watch. "I know artists are supposed to be dissolute, but it's late. If you could get me the phone book, I'll scribble down everyone's addresses."

She fetched the phone book, and her own address book, and he produced pen and pad to write down his contacts. "Let's see—Mary-Lou Kelly. Actually, she's now 'Simone.' They live in a new development above the lake. Laurie also moved here. She's now 'Baskin' and they live way up among the older houses. Get yourself a map—I have the address but I'm not sure how to get there. Matthew built a really nice place on the lake further south, and he's set up an office not far from here."

"I'm sure I'll find it. You said Joan was here a lot. When would be a good time to catch her?"

"This week…try Tuesday morning. She'll be here, but I'll probably be out sketching. Stanislaus comes and goes this time of year, but he's around in his cabin most evenings. You know where it is? Just up Hale Road. If you aren't looking for it, you'll miss it."

"I was there years ago, and I can probably find it again. Listen, this was great," he said, taking the paper and standing up. "Thanks so much for dinner."

"So, are you going to find out what happened?" she asked, looking a little tense.

"I don't know if anything happened," he replied, with an even tone.

"Is it important to know?"

"It's important to me," he said. "And I think it's important to Penelope."

"She almost always gets what she wants, even when it isn't what she needs." She smiled as she said it. "William played that—'You Can’t Always Get What You Want.' Remember?"

"Of course."

"Good luck, at any rate. Stop by and see me again if you can before you head back to the city."

"I will. And thanks also for an introduction to your remarkable daughter. Say, that boy—Jimmy, Johnny, on the dock that night—why didn’t you just kiss him?"

"I should've. Why shouldn't girls be forward? Oh well. Listen, it was good to see you," she said, giving him a hug. "And I'll visit you the next time I'm in the city. We often come to see Penelope. Good night!"

The automatic lights lit his way to his car. He thought of all the evenings he had looked up at Penelope's room, but of course, she wasn't there anymore, and it was dark.



Summer, 1986

After the morning rush, the afternoon was quiet. William played in his usual spot, and a couple of girls sat and listened. Laurie came by after the lunch shift, and she and Vic huddled over the counter. She looked up when Ted walked backed in.

“Heard you have a big night planned, hotshot,” she laughed. “Champagne! I didn’t even know they sold it in this town.”

“Thanks for your discretion,” said Ted, flashing Vic a dirty look that rolled right off him. “Just don’t either of you say anything to Mary-Lou.”

“My lips are sealed,” said Laurie. “But I want all the details later.”

“I’ll keep you fully posted.” He pulled up a stool next to Vic. Laurie looked at him, then suddenly ran her hands over his cheeks and chin.

“Shave,” she said. “Women appreciate it.” Ted ran his own hand over his face. “If you say so,” he mumbled.

“Okay, boys, I’m going for a swim. Catch you later.” She gave Vic a quick kiss. “And definitely shave, Ted, that stubble look doesn’t really work.”

You didn’t really need a clock, thought Ted, as he looked over the lake. Once you got out of the city, the sun did the trick. The now-familiar shadows of the forest inched over the dock and were now almost at the end. He looked over the beach: mothers were coaxing children out of the lake as the sun began to vanish behind the resort.

Still, it seemed to get darker faster than usual…

Ted walked to the end of the dock and looked back over the resort. The sun had already slipped behind some dark clouds, and the wind, which usually died in the early evening, was picking up—it would storm tonight. Well, can’t plan for everything, but at least he had an idea for alternate plans.

Back in the Hall, Vic was serving orange sodas to two 12-year-old boys.

“Does your Mom know you’re having sodas so close to dinner?”

“She doesn’t care,” said one.

“Well if she comes in later yelling at me, we never met and I was gone all afternoon.”

“Sure.” They put the sodas on the edge of the ping-pong table and started to play.

“Don’t get too involved, guys. We’re closing in 10 minutes. Exactly.” They looked to see if he was kidding, and saw he wasn’t.

“The guy in cabin 8 had a blown fuse,” said Vic to Ted. “William said he’d take care of it and drop off his guitar at the cabin before it starts to rain. I told him we’d close up.” From the machine shop came more banging.

“Another one?” said Vic. “Don’t any of them run?” They walked back to where Matthew was working. He gave his lopsided smile.

“This one is even older than ours. I’ve never even seen one this old.” On the workbench he had a small outboard, with an unusual green top, clamped down. “A 3-h.p. I don’t know who made it or when. A customer of my Dad’s found it in his late uncle’s garage. He gave it to my Dad, and he gave it to me. Told me if I could fix it I could keep it, or sell it.”

“Where do you even get parts for something like this?” asked Ted.

“I’m just looking to see what’s wrong. Then I’ll see about matching parts.”

“We’re closing up in five more minutes,” said Vic.

“I’m going to work on this for a bit. I’ll close up. Just close the front door.”

“Suit yourself. Good luck with it,” said Vic. “Come on kids, you can play ping-pong tomorrow. We gotta eat, shave, and meet some girls.” They were volleying, but Vic grabbed the ball in mid-air. “Game over. And don’t leave your soda cans here, I’m not your servant…hey, I’m closing the front door, out the back…there you go…God, what a pain they are. Ted—don’t forget your champagne!”

Vic and Ted walked up to the cabin, expecting to hear William’s guitar playing. But they instead heard another, long-forgotten noise: the sounds of a vacuum cleaner. When they opened the door, William was vigorously pushing it back and forth across the floor, sucking up dust bunnies, sand, dirt, pine needles, dead insects.

And that wasn’t all. The Formica table was shiny and damp from a recent sponge-down, and the sink was miraculously empty.

Ted and Vic just looked at him in astonishment. William switched off the machine, and tossed his hair out of his eyes.

“You know, we live like pigs. So I borrowed this from Joan’s cleaning closet.”

“I’m only here to sleep. I don’t see the dirt,” reasoned Vic. He opened the fridge. “We have a package of hot dogs cabin 27 left. No hot dog buns, but we do have hamburger buns. We can cut them to fit. And a can of green peas.” Occasionally they’d hitch a ride to the store with Stanislaus, but mostly they lived on the leftovers of departing guests—an uneaten pork chop, half a pound of ground chuck, three drumsticks in a Ziploc bag.

“I have to say, this looks a lot better,” said Ted. “Is there a sponge somewhere? I’ll wipe down the bathroom to show my heart’s in the right place.”

“I’d appreciate it,” said William. “I guess I spend more of my evenings here than you two do. It started to get to me.”

“Your Mom would be so proud of you,” said Vic. “I’ll be the chef tonight. Everyone like hotdogs? We have the remains of five bags of chips and four beers, all different brands.”

Vic put the water up to boil and William resumed vacuuming. Ted attacked the worst of the bathroom, and kept at it until Vic announced that dinner was ready. “After dinner, take a number for the shower and no one use up all the hot water. Apparently we have to shave.” William rubbed his own chin; his dark hair showed very quickly.

“New rule?” he asked.

“Laurie said so. She’s usually right about things like that.”

Ted got the first shower, because he was meeting Mary-Lou at 7:30, and Laurie wasn’t picking up Vic until 8:00 for a trip to a bar in Fort Bramwell. Still, Vic started pounding on the bathroom door.

“Let’s go buddy, I’m not taking a cold shower.”

By 7:00 Ted was shaved and dressed in jeans and looking for a clean shirt. Did he have anything that wasn’t a tee shirt? Crammed in the back of his drawer in the one dresser they shared was a nice but casual red-stripped button-down his mother had insisted he take. Ted listened to the wind rise over William’s guitar, from where he played it on his bed. It would be cool tonight—okay on the button down.

He finished fumbling with the buttons, and then took the champagne out of the fridge and put it on the table. Then he carried a kitchen chair to the cabin’s one closet. Standing on it, he could just reach the high shelf that was only about a foot below the cabin ceiling. He produced some mysterious bags, which joined the champagne on the table.

Vic was still in the bathroom, but William half-watched the frantic activities.

“Christ, almost forgot,” said Ted. He went back to the dresser, and fished around again for a small package in an unmarked plastic bag. He shoved into his back pocket. “And because it may rain…” He took one of the resort-owned rain ponchos from a hook near the door and draped it over his arm. He spoke to himself: “Bottle, bags…already dropped off…that should be it…”

“Got glasses?” asked William. “I mean, for the champagne.” Ted held up one of the bags.

“Plastic flutes. Best I could do in this town.”

“Have a good one.” He seemed bored watching Ted, and re-focused on his chords.

“Don’t wait up,” said Ted, and he was out the door and down the stairs. Halfway along the path, he turned around for a second to check the weather in a patch of sky behind the cabin. Lowering his eyes to the door, he thought he saw William had paused in his playing and was looking at him.

Ted turned and walked down the path that led to the guest cabins, and to the three north cabins at the far end of the resort.