Penelope's Suitors

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Spring, 2006

Back in his car, Ted pulled out the addresses for his afternoon meetings. He sighed, then told himself not to be such a baby, and turned the ignition.

Mary-Lou's house was part of a new development above the village, a community of suburban-style ranch homes on cleared land above the lake. The new road from Route 18 was paved, and the trees were thinned out along the edges of the lawns, so it was well-lit. The mail boxes displayed the house numbers. Mary-Lou's was an even number, meaning she was on the side of the road with a lake view. He remembered she had said she wanted a lake view.

Ted slowed down as he approached her home. He pulled over, next to a neatly painted white picket fence that may have been a cliché, but worked nonetheless.

A woman walked from the lake side of the house. She was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and gardening gloves, and carrying a trowel in her hand. Her attention was focused on the border of young plants in the front of the house and not on the road, and she kneeled by the shoots. Ted looked at her for a few moments, then got out of the car. At the sound of the opening door, Mary-Lou stood up to look at the stranger outside her house. She took off her hat and gloves, put them down with the trowel, and pushed a hand through her hair. It was still the light blond he remembered, and she had let it grow out a bit. Mary-Lou walked toward him, and Ted saw her figure was still trim and athletic.

When she recognized him, a smile replaced her curious expression.

"Well look who's here," she said.

"Mary-Lou, you look great." He went to meet her inside the fence.

"I always hoped to see you again."

"Me too."

They were almost close enough to hug, when her arm lashed out. He never saw it coming, wasn't even aware of it until her open hand connected full with his cheek. The sound in his ear was like a pistol shot and for a moment he actually saw stars. Stunned into speechlessness, he stared at her as he rubbed the red patch on his face. He saw in her expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

"That, you bastard, is for breaking my heart."

"I owe you an apology," he said slowly. "I'm very sorry."

"Well, now that we got that over with, do you want to come inside?" she asked.

"Are you going to hit me again?"

"No. I think I got it out of my system. My husband and children will be home soon, and I'd like you to meet them. Let me get you something to drink. Come around the back, to the porch, there's a view of the lake." His face still stinging, Ted followed her to a deck that opened to a view of the eastern mountains and the lake under them. "Have a seat," she said, pointing to chairs around a table. "I'll be back." She walked through sliding glass doors and was back a minute later with a plastic pitcher and two glasses.

"A family favorite. It's half lemonade and half iced tea, not too sweet and very refreshing." It was good, and Ted began to regain his equilibrium.

"I think you loosened a tooth," he said, feeling around with his tongue.

"I didn't hit you that hard."

"It was like Harrison Ford's old girlfriend in the first Indiana Jones movie, where he meets her again in Tibet."

"Thank you, that's what I was going for."

He wanted to tell her how lovely she looked, with freckles still dotting her sweet face, but then decided flirting was not what was called for here.

"Seriously, Mary-Lou. I am sorry. I can only say I was just a teenager myself, and didn't behave like an adult."

"Not a phone call, not a letter, not a card. You didn't even write me back. I knew we wouldn't be…together after the summer, but how do you think I felt, suddenly I'm not around for sex, and you don't want anything to do with me." He cringed inside and thought about trying to explain why after William's death he had to sever all connections to the lake, including the good ones. And by the time he had gained some perspective, it was too late.

"My behavior was inexcusable," he said. "But if it means anything by this point, I really did care of you."

"Better late than never with apologies. You know, between you and the…accident, it was years before I could go back to Twelve Pines. I was sorry when Maxwell died—you know they had a memorial service for him here? He was very nice. He sent me a letter that winter saying he understood if William's death made it too upsetting to come back, and had arranged a 'youth aquatics director' position for me at the Fort Bramwell Country Club, if I was interested. More money and more interesting work."

"That was thoughtful. And typical of Maxwell," said Ted. And typically, a more concerned employer than father, he thought.

"And he did the same with Matthew—a position up north as a mechanic with a big marina. Laurie was working full-time by then, but he gave her a great recommendation, too." She took a sip of her drink. "I know how busy he was. I wondered if he thought everyone involved, and the resort itself, would be better off if we all went our separate ways."

"He told me I was welcome back, but I got an internship in the city. Vic spent the summer in his father's office. It was okay, but not half the fun of working at the resort."

"No virgins to seduce?" she teased.

"I deserved that," he said. "Along with the slap. At any rate, I'm getting feeling back in my face."

"Oh come on. I can't believe I'm the first person to slap you; you can't be that shocked."

"Actually, you are. Although once, a girl in a bar threw her drink in my face." Mary-Lou laughed. "Glad you're amused. But it had ice in it. It hurt."

"Did you have it coming?"

"That's open to debate."

"I forgot how funny you were," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I see Ariadne occasionally, at PTA meetings. She told me you became a writer, like you always said. You live in Manhattan?"

"Yes. I like my work, and I like living in the city. And you became a nurse, like you always said."

"It's worked out well. I got a job at Fort Bramwell General. With the kids in school, I can work out a schedule around theirs." Her eyes narrowed. "You're still single?"

"Still waiting for the right girl. But you said you have a husband and children?"

She nodded. "Yes. We have a girl and a boy. You'll meet them soon. But tell me, you didn't come all the way here just to apologize to me."

"No, but you're on the right track. I'm here for William. Penelope asked me to write a biography of Maxwell, and that means his place at the lake. And that means William. I guess we want closure. Isn’t that the word you're supposed to use—closure? I'm taking a fresh look at William's death."

"Briefly, you're saying it may not have been an accident."

"Maybe not," he said, appreciating her directness.

"But who…?"

"Right now, I'm working on the 'why's.' Why was he on that cliff edge in the rain at night?"

"I always thought he was up at one of those cabins—" she blushed but moved on quickly "—with, oh, what was her name, Denise, that odd little girl Laurie teased so mercilessly."

"Perhaps. But that doesn't explain why he was at the edge of the cliff instead of a nice dry cabin."

Mary-Lou shook her head. "Beats me. I have no idea what happened that night. As you recall, neither of us was around that evening."

"Did you know that everyone thought I faked that distress call just to take you for a drive in that Land Rover?"

"I sometimes wondered that myself. Not that I minded."

He laughed. "Well, I didn't. It was a practical joke and another mystery that night. Anyway, I'm just taking a trip through people's memories to see if there was anything I missed, any clues to what happened that night."

"He wasn't someone it was easy to get to know," she said. "But he was a great musician."

"Remember how Ariadne and the other girls would sit around he while he played?"

"Now Ariadne was someone I got to know. When she wasn't hanging around in the Hall she was on the beach. Did you ever really notice how beautiful she was? Especially after Laurie dolled her up. Believe me, there were plenty of boys trying to talk her up or offering to get her sodas."

"But she came herself to get sodas."

"Oh sure, to hang out with the big boys, seniors and college men. When I was 15, all I wanted to do was hang out with my big brothers and their athlete friends and the oh-so-sophisticated older girls. But she could've had her pick of the under-18 set, if she wanted any of them. And if she could get out from under Penelope's thumb."

"Ah, Penelope. What about her? Did you ever spend any time with her?"

"She was something else altogether. I never spoke with her much. She wasn't unpleasant—just a little cool. Not the kind of girl other girls pal around with. I can't say I understood her." She looked reflective for a moment.

"You know, I just remembered. I was going off duty one afternoon, cleaning up, and one of the bolder boys was flirting with Ariadne and trying to tease her into letting her hair down. She finally gave in and undid her braid. That hair was long. Well, Penelope came by a few minutes later and she was furious. Sent the boy packing, and then chewed out Ariadne with all kinds of talk about how messy it was going to get and did she want to spend the whole evening untangling it. She made Ariadne sit still while she re-braided it. Ariadne sulked."

She stopped, as if to gather her thoughts.

"But it’s what they said next that was interesting. Ariadne said something like, 'he was just curious and teasing me. What's the big deal?' Well, Penelope gave her hair a yank and Ariadne screamed. And Penelope said—oh what were her exact words? 'don't ever let me catch you performing for a boy again.'"

"I can just hear her," said Ted.

"The wrath of the big sister. But I think I got off the topic. You wanted to know about William. I don't think I helped you find out what happened that night."

"You never know what's important," he said. "So many pieces floating around."

"You see it in the hospital sometimes. A patient dies, and you don't know why. They call in the pathologists and do autopsies, but when you add up all the chemical results, you still don't know why."

She sipped her tea and lemonade and they continued to enjoy the sight of the lake shimmering in the afternoon sun. Then Ted heard the sounds of a car pulling into the driveway.

"That will be Phil and the kids." A moment later a boy and a girl came running around the corner to the deck. They were fair and blond like their mother, but it was already clear the boy would be much taller than Mary-Lou. "How was school? Lots of homework tonight? Here, have something to drink—and I want you to meet an old friend of mine."

"Hey, honey, there's a strange car parked outside—oh!" A tall, thin man walked into view. He wore a jacket and tie, loosened, with the top button undone. Round wire-rim glasses gave him an owlish look.

"Phil, an old friend stopped by. Ted Jellinek, we worked together at Twelve Pines all those years ago. Ted, my husband Phil. And these are Joseph and Anne."

The children drank their lemonade-and-tea while looking at the stranger. Phil put down his briefcase, and stuck out his hand. "Ted—I'm glad to meet you. Your name isn't unknown here." Not unknown, thought Ted? He glanced quickly at Mary-Lou, but she looked away.

"Can we go fishing by the public docks?" asked Joseph.

"Okay," said Mary-Lou. "Joseph, watch your sister. And careful crossing the road." A moment later they were running down to the lake, holding their fishing roads.

"Sorry we're late," said Phil. "The busses were running behind, so dismissal took forever." He turned to Ted. "I teach at North Lake."

"Not a teacher," said Mary-Lou. "He's an assistant principal." Phil stretched his arms out in a gesture of mock arrogance.

"As my proud wife reminds me, I'm an assistant principal." He poured himself a drink and sat down. "Twelve Pines—doesn't Ariadne Andrews own that now? I know her daughter Karen was out when her grandfather died—Maxwell Tolford's death created quite a stir here."

"That's sort of why I'm here. Maxwell Tolford's death reconnected me with his daughters, with Ariadne and her sister Penelope. Mary-Lou may have told you about an accident that occurred when we were working here." Phil nodded. "So I'm playing detective, asking everyone who was there if they remember anything. Trying to piece it together after all these years, seeing if there was something more there."

"I wish you luck," said Phil. "I'm not local—I came here from Albany. Mary-Lou and I met at the state university while we were getting our masters—" a fond look passed between husband and wife. "But I of course heard the story here later, from Mary-Lou. And from others—it's still talked about. Nothing gets forgotten in a small town. Ted, I understand you're a native New Yorker. You and I didn't grow up with a small town network. It's something I had to learn about." Mary-Lou patted him affectionately on the arm.

"You fitted in just fine," she said.

An idea sprung into Ted's head. "Some of my questions have led me to North Lake High." He chose his words carefully. "To some people who might've been there some years back, when all of us were in high school ourselves. I was wondering if you knew of any high school teacher who were there 20 years ago."

"What exactly are you looking for?" asked Phil. "Or shouldn't I ask?"

"I think he's investigating the Tolford sisters," said Mary-Lou, looking a little smug.

Ted spread his hands out. "I'm just looking for people who remember. As you said, Phil, few things get forgotten in small towns, and I imagine teachers are on the front lines of gossip. Just another person who might know something." Phil thought for a moment. He looked at Mary-Lou, and Ted saw her give him a nearly imperceptible nod.

"I know just the person. Esther Quiller."

Mary-Lou laughed. "Yes—Esther. She's a delight, Ted. You'll love her. Been here forever. Isn't she retiring this year?"

"Yes," said Phil. "They're already planning her party. Tell you what, Ted. Do you have any plans tomorrow? Esther's class, all seniors, did a popular unit on journalism earlier this year. Would you mind awfully saying a few words and answering a few questions? It would mean a lot to them—a New York City reporter. Then I think she's free for a couple of periods and you could talk to her. Her class is at 11:10."

"Delighted to help, Phil." He even knew I was a journalist, realized Ted.

"Great. Well, until tomorrow then. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to change and join the kids fishing." He picked up his briefcase and headed into the house.

"You have a fine family. I'm glad for you," said Ted, after Phil had left. "And you know, I'm glad I came by to see you again. Even with the slap."

"I'm glad, too. Especially with the slap." But she was smiling.

"I'm going to see if I can catch Laurie at home now. I don't think she's too far from here."

"No, she's not. She moved up here from Fort Bramwell just like I did. She has kids in the school too, and we see each other open schools nights, the grocery store, the Kiwanis Halloween parade. All the usual small town stuff. I'll walk you to your car and point you the right way."

Mary-Lou gave him directions, leaning into the driver's side window as he looked at his map.

"Thanks—and I almost forgot to ask: how are your brothers? Still in the marines?"

"Oh no, they left long ago. One helps manage his father-in-law's lumberyard in Mohawk Falls, the other is a state trooper. But they're still in great shape, and I'm sure the statute of limitations on leading their sister astray hasn't run out."

"OK. As I said, I deserved the slap and the cracks and maybe even a threat from your brothers. But I bet that even if you knew how things would end, you would've gone to bed with me that night anyway."

"Of course," she said. "Isn't that what makes it all so sad?"



Summer, 1986

By the time the evening had rolled around, Vic had found an old metal tackle box that could double as a cash box, and a semi-steady folding bridge table and chair. He set up shop between the lake at the hearth. William and Matthew carried the coolers full of sodas, and then William made himself comfortable in an Adirondack chair and began tuning his guitar.

Ted applied himself to the food, getting a roaring fire going, and then letting it slowly die down to a low flame over a bed of coals. The evening was cool, but it was searing hot near the hearth. When the fire was just for show, they set the chairs at a respectful distance, but for cooking, he had to be right on top of it. He soon stripped down to his denim shorts.

On the side of the hearth opposite Vic's cash table, Ted and Matthew placed a picnic table. Ted arranged the hot dogs on the grill and set up the condiments, while Ariadne and Denise had arranged chairs around William. Denise was making it very clear who got to sit where.

A line began forming, and Vic started accepting money.

"You girls did a good job advertising. We have a big crowd," said Vic.

"I'm afraid Penelope caught me at the xerox machine," said Ariadne. "But she wasn't angry. She said it was a good idea. Matthew asked her to come and she said she probably would. And here she is." She was strolling across the beach. Matthew was carrying another cooler of soda, and as soon as he put it down, he ran along the beach to meet her.

Laurie and Mary-Lou were loyally sitting near enough to Vic and Ted to talk to them, but still in hearing distance of William. Matthew pulled up another chair for her, next to them.

"Thank you so much…That's quite a line," said Penelope, as she sat down. "Should we get on it before it gets any longer?"

"Certain people are on a VIP list," Matthew said. "Just stay here." The hotdogs didn't take long to cook, and soon Ted, the sweat pouring down his torso, was dumping the first of them onto platters on the picnic table, and the line started moving. William shifted into some faster songs, with a beat. Matthew left Penelope's side to collect the first hotdogs for the three young women.

"Hey!" yelled a plump 10-year-old boy. "That's cutting! They weren't on line! That's not fair!"

"What's your problem, kid?" asked Vic, with a tone the boy missed entirely.

"They're just getting served first because they're your girlfriends," accused the boy.

"That's right. Now shut up and keep moving."

Ariadne collected hotdogs for herself, Denise, and the rest of the advertising committee. Ted loaded another rack of hotdogs over the fire. He stepped back; Mary-Lou tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a freezing-cold Coke.

"God, you're wonderful." He took a long drink. "This must be someone's job in hell, cooking hotdogs for eternity for the rest of the damned souls."

"I admire you for doing this, but you're sweaty and disgusting so I'm not going to kiss you. Everyone loves your hotdogs, by the way." She rejoined Penelope and Laurie, the line continued to move, and the tackle box filled with money. Even the seemingly bottomless 30-pound box of hotdogs began to empty out, but the line began to dwindle as well. Ted helped himself to a couple of the last hotdogs.

Then Matthew produced boxes of individual brownies and loudly announced dessert.

"Those look expensive," said Vic. "What kind of profit margin are we getting on those?"

"The store's assistant manager is the uncle of one of my football teammates," said Matthew. "He had a boxes of these that had passed the sell-by date. They're still good, just illegal to sell."

"I'm impressed," said Vic.

His cooking tasks at an end, Ted ran into the lake and reveled in the cold water. He emerged a few minutes later, much refreshed, and slipped on a sweatshirt. He pulled up a chair next to Mary-Lou. "I must've sweated a dozen pounds."

"Hail to the chef!" said Vic. He had the metal cash box on his lap. "We'll count the takings later, but we made a mint."

William had moved into a softer key. A few older guests hung around on the fringes of the beach chatting, the girls hung around William, and the boys hung around the girls. Ted held Mary-Lou's hand and drank bottle after bottle of water. Laurie pulled the precious cash box out of Vic's hands and stuck it under his chair. Then she made herself comfortable in his lap, her long legs flowing over the arm of the chair.

Ted watched William totally absorbed in his song, a slow and romantic one. The girls in the inner circle looked at him with liquid eyes. Denise had a prime seat and watched William with nothing less than worship. Laurie's long lashes rested on her cheeks—she might have been asleep on Vic's shoulder.

Ariadne had spread a blanket on the sand and lay propped on her elbows, looking thoughtful.