After a long pause while they stared at each other, Gabriel finally said, “We’d better let you get back to your painting.”
“Right.” Zian glanced at his canvas as if suddenly remembering he had been painting.
Gabriel added, “Put more gray in the clouds.”
“I will. Thanks!”
Gabriel and I walked along the water’s edge. I smiled. “He seemed smitten with you.”
Gabriel tossed it off. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“I’m not being nice. I’m being honest. The guy’s attracted to you. What do you think about him?”
“He seems sweet.”
“Maybe meeting here will lead to a connection for you two.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Because he lives in New York City, and you are in Vermont?”
“No.” Gabriel looked at me with melancholy eyes. “I find it all really difficult.”
“Relationships?”
“Trusting people.”
Sensing Gabriel didn’t want to elaborate on it, I followed him up the stairs and into the house. When we entered the hallway outside our rooms, I said, “I enjoyed lunch and the walk.”
“Me too.” Gabriel rubbed the back of his thin neck. “I hope I wasn’t too obnoxious about the Zian thing.”
“You weren’t.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”
Thinking about Freddy, I said, “I thought that too. Then I met my boyfriend, and everything changed.” That was an understatement.
“I’m happy for you, Andre.”
“Thanks. It may happen for you one day too.”
He disappeared inside his room.
After washing up in my room, I headed downstairs for snack time. Stopping halfway down the stairs to tie my sneaker, I noticed a strapping young man with dark hair and eyes standing at the counter below opposite Nelson Russell, who asked him, “Can I help you, sir?”
The man’s olive skin was complemented by his coral polo shirt. “Yes, you can. Over the two days my mother and I have spent here, I haven’t played basketball. So I’d like to do some activity.”
“Are you asking me to play basketball with you?”
“Actually, I’d like you to go rowing with me tonight—again.” Adorable dimples emerged in his cheeks like craters. “After the sun goes down.”
Nelson grinned. “Rowing isn’t part of our services offered, sir.”
“It was last night.” He winked at Nelson. “And the services were very gratefully accepted.”
After they shared a giggle, Nelson whispered, “I’ll meet you outside at nine.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
They shared a sweet kiss.
Nelson glanced over his shoulder. “Sergio, keep our boat date between us, okay?”
Sergio leaned over the counter. “There’s something else I’d like to keep between us. Two things, actually.”
Nelson chuckled. “Is that so?”
“That is definitely so.” Sergio gave him a gentle kiss.
Nelson happily returned it. “We’ll have to investigate that later in your room.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Sergio offered him an adoring smile. “I missed you so much. The year went by like ten years.”
“Emailing, texting, and Skyping weren’t enough for you?”
Sergio shook his head. “Neither were your visits to the City.”
They shared another kiss. This one was longer and more intense.
Nelson said to Sergio, “Then it seems like we’ll have to see each other more often.”
“Count me in.” He giggled. “And on top, and on the bottom.”
They were about to kiss again, but Cynthia Butler Russell appeared behind her son. “Nelson, can you help me with the audit?”
Nelson’s smile turned into a frown.
“Excuse us.” Cynthia shot Sergio an icy grin and then led her son behind a closed door.
Sergio left through the front door.
I heard voices. After descending the stairs, I stood behind the molding of the doorway into the dining room and noticed a fit middle-aged man speaking sotto voce over the dining room table to a woman who resembled Cynthia. However, unlike Cynthia, the woman sported a flowery short dress, garish makeup, and gaudy plastic jewelry. I recognized the man from the B and B website. Cynthia’s husband, Jim Russell, the co-owner and comanager, was dressed in a tan sweater and chocolate slacks.
“Where were you last night?” the woman asked.
He set the table for breakfast. “I couldn’t get away.”
“I didn’t come here to sit alone in that room.”
“Cynthia has been making things difficult.”
“My sister makes everything difficult. She takes after our mother.” The woman softened. “Come to my room tonight?”
“I’ll try, but it may not be that simple.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “How’s this for simple? If you aren’t there at nine o’clock, I’m driving back to Poughkeepsie.”
He ran a hand through his thick chestnut hair. “Stop pushing me, Sherry.”
“You’re the one pushing me away.”
“Pushing you? That would be your last boyfriend—after he had a few drinks.”
Cynthia appeared in the doorway. “Jim, is everything ready in the sitting room for snacks?”
He plastered a fake smile on his face. “We’re all set. Sherry helped me.”
“Thanks, sis.” Cynthia didn’t take her eyes off Jim. “Can we go over the week’s breakfast menu?” Cynthia turned to her sister. “You understand, don’t you, Sherry?”
“Of course.” Sherry added, “I’ll get a snack in the sitting room.”
Cynthia smirked at her sister’s full figure. “You always did enjoy your snacks.”
Sherry grinned. “Perhaps I’ll play a tune on the piano and bring Cole Porter back to life.”
Sherry’s comment made me wonder. As she exited the dining room, I hightailed it back up the stairs, anxious to see if my hunch was right.
Chapter Two
AFTER CLOSING the door to my room, I thought about the mysterious people living in Freddy’s house. That made me miss Freddy’s joy for living—or being dead—more than ever. Eyeing the player piano—Freddy’s player piano—I noticed the roll in the pianola’s spool was the 1935 song “Begin the Beguine” by Cole Porter. Wondering if the player piano still worked, I sat on the bench and pedaled. To my delight, the melodious song filled the room. As I followed the lyrics about someone remembering a past love, I felt incredibly grateful for my relationship with Freddy, desiring him more with each verse. Suddenly, the room chilled, the lights flickered, and the scent of champagne filled the air. I spun around to find Freddy standing over me.
He said in his silky masculine voice, “James wrote that song after taking me on a trip to the French Riviera. Of course, he drastically exaggerated our relationship, which drove Russian poet Boris Kochno mad with jealousy over James. I assume that was Porter’s intention.” He offered me a dazzling smile. “Hello, my love, it’s time to begin our vacation.”
I practically flew into Freddy’s long, welcoming arms. After we enjoyed a lengthy embrace, I asked him, “Did I bring you here?”
“That appears to be the case, which is absolutely nerts yet perfectly logical. You were playing my player piano in my bedroom. That’s how you had summoned me in the city.”
“I was missing you like crazy here in Cold Spring!”
“And I was going mad back in Hoboken without you!”
After we shared a wet kiss, he asked, “What do you think of my room?”
“It’s beautiful. I took pictures.”
“Hm.” He scratched his cleft chin. “The bed and bureau are new. Mine were nicer.”
I wrapped my arms around his V-shaped back. “The important thing is we’re together again.”
“And the occasion calls for a dance, Oliver Twist.” Freddy beautifully execu
ted a few Charleston steps. Then he took me in his arms and led me in a waltz around the bedroom. When we finished, he dipped me onto the bed and then lay next to me. After a long make-out session, we undressed and made love with the sky outside the window casting streamers of vermillion and marigold spinning into Oxford blue.
Afterward, as I lay naked enveloped by Freddy’s arms, legs, and torso, he said, “As my dear friend Mae West said, ‘Good sex is like good bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.’ It’s better having a good partner.”
We laughed uproariously, and I rested my head on Freddy’s perfectly shaped chest.
He asked, “Will the servants bring your dinner?”
I explained, “There are no servants. The innkeepers are serving a late-afternoon snack in the sitting room now. I’ll go down soon and then out for dinner later.”
“Out for dinner? In Cold Spring?”
I nodded. “Main Street is loaded with shops and restaurants.”
“Banana oil!”
“I’m serious, Freddy.”
He sat up and gazed out the balcony window. “All I see are the mountains and river.”
“Main Street is on the front side of the house.”
He seemed intrigued. “Tell me about the rest of the house.”
I stood, dressing as I replied, “I love the elaborate molding.”
He nodded with pride. “The turrets, bays, and balconies were my idea.”
“The two grand staircases are amazing.”
“They keep the buttocks toned.” He rose and pinched mine.
“The statues and murals in the living room and dining room feature the famous people you’ve told me about.”
He smiled joyously while dressing. “Even Greta Garbo came out of hiding to see herself immortalized in my family’s home. Coco Chanel redesigned her dress on the mural. J. Edgar Hoover bugged his statue. Zelda Fitzgerald cried on hers. Louise Brooks danced with her replica. And James, Cole Porter to you, wrote ‘Easy to Love’ in 1934 when he found his figurine. Tell me about the rest of my family’s country home.”
I explained, “I didn’t see it. Half of the downstairs is a private area for the family who own and run the bed-and-breakfast. And the remaining five bedrooms on this floor are for the other guests.” Glancing around the room, I added, “I really like the music decorations in your room.”
He gazed at the wallpaper. “I don’t recognize the musicians on the walls. A definite faux pas by the new owners.” He moved to the pianola. “But the player piano is mine. I recognize the musical notes on the molding.”
Hurrying to it, I said, “The desk has the same molding.”
“It was my mother’s. I’m not sure how it landed in here.”
I explained, “Each room in the B and B has a motif. This is the music room.”
“Because we make sweet music together.” He initiated a long kiss.
It dawned on me. “Freddy, can you leave this room?”
“I don’t know.” He opened the balcony door and stepped outside. Then racing to the door of the room, he opened it and froze. “Don’t fret about me, dear boy. Enjoy your late-afternoon snack and then tell me all about the other guests in my home.”
I joined him. “You won’t be lonely without me?”
“I’m always lonely without you.” He gave me a parting kiss. “Hurry back. I’ll be waiting.”
After leaving the room, I descended the grand staircase feeling much more at east. As I entered the sitting room, I spotted Cynthia Butler Russell’s sister, Sherry, sitting on a chaise. She held a compact mirror in front of her and was applying a thick coating of crimson lipstick. After smiling at me, she said, “Oops, got some on my teeth.” She pulled a tissue out of her purse and wiped off the lipstick smudge. “This cost me plenty.”
“I guess lipstick can be expensive.”
“I meant the teeth.” She added, highlighting each syllable, “They’re porcelain veneers.”
Trying to be polite, I said, “They look very nice.”
“And they’re not the only fake thing on me.” She giggled.
I felt my checks flush.
“Oh, the boobs are real. Praise Jesus for that.” She patted the seat next to her. After I sat down, she leaned into me. “What color are my eyes?”
“Blue.”
“Wrong. They’re as brown as dog doo-doo. But these little lenses over my eyes turn them sky-blue.” She chortled. “God bless all of his creations!”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Hi, I’m Andre Beaufort, in room six, the music room. You’re the owner’s sister, right?”
She nodded. “It was Cynthia’s idea to have a theme for each guest room.” She mumbled, “If Cynthia had it her way, she’d mandate a theme for each of our lives too.” Smiling she said, “I’m Sherry Butler in room one, the library room, which is ironic since I only read text messages. I’d shake your hand, but my nails aren’t dry yet.” She waved them furiously. “You’d think somebody would invent nail polish that dries on application.” She nodded to the pitcher and glasses on an end table. “Pour me a half glass of lemonade, will you, Andre?”
As I followed her orders, she pointed to the adjacent end table. “And put a cookie on a plate for me. Maybe two… or three.”
Moving over to the other end table, I asked her, “Would you like some fruit?”
“No, thank you.” She patted her protruding stomach. “I have to watch my weight.” She sighed. “You don’t know anything about that at your age. Wait until you hit forty. Everything that once stood with pride droops in shame.”
After serving her, I poured a glass of lemonade for myself. “How long have you been here?”
“Two nights. From Poughkeepsie, New York.”
“I’m sure your sister is happy to see you.”
“Not exactly.” She whispered, “I’m laid-back like my dear departed father, may he rest in peace. Cynthia needs to control everyone like my dear departed mother, may she rot in Hell.” She slipped a flask out of her purse and poured its contents into the glass, filling it to the brim. “Don’t tell my sister about this.”
I gave her the Boy Scout sign and salute.
Again she patted the seat next to her. “Tell me about yourself, Andre.”
I sat. “I’m a music teacher.”
She chased down a cookie with a gulp of her drink. “What grade do you teach?”
“Elementary school.”
She cooed. “I loved grade school! Got all As. Then I noticed boys in middle school, and that changed fast. My sister says I was an early bloomer. My mother took me to our minister, who did an exorcism on me to rid my ‘evil soul of the carnal desire for boys.’” She cocked her head. “Thinking about my last boyfriend, that exorcism finally worked—thirty years later.” She laughed wickedly.
I couldn’t help joining her.
She blurted out, “You’re a homosexual, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“I could tell right off. You’re refined and gentle.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” After another gulp of her drink, she said, “I was in love with a little homosexual boy in eighth grade. Leslie. He was the sweetest, gentlest thing. Even at thirteen years old I knew I was deluding myself, but I prayed each night for Jesus to change him. Of course it didn’t work. I tell the people in my church who believe in that conversion therapy that my prayers couldn’t even make my last boyfriend stop eating potato chips in bed. How in the world are they going to change somebody deep inside? And I believe it is something deep inside you—created by God. And what God has created should never be mocked or ridiculed.”
“I agree.”
She whispered, “My nephew Nelson is a homosexual too. He has an adorable… friend, Sergio, who is staying here.”
“I saw them together earlier.”
“That’s right. You people have homosexual telepathy.”
“We call it ‘gaydar.’”
“Gaydar!” She guffawed. “How precious!” After gobbling another cookie and washing it down with the rest of her drink, she said, “My brother-in-law won’t talk about Nelson being a homosexual. Out of sight, out of mind for Jim. He’s like that about a lot of things.”
“How about Nelson’s mother?”
“My sister pretends she doesn’t know about Nelson.” She grimaced. “Cynthia knows all right. I was there when he told her. She doesn’t want to know. You know what I mean?”
“I know.” I couldn’t resist.
She laughed merrily. “You’re funny. So many homosexuals are. I guess it’s because you all had to deal with so much pain and rejection in your life. Humor is your way of coping.”
“You’re probably right in many cases.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m a beautician at the mall. Not much gets by me.” After swallowing the last drops of her drink, she said, “I believe we are all sinners in God’s eyes, and only he can judge us. So we shouldn’t be judging each other.”
I sighed. “If only everyone thought that way, it would be a better world.”
“I agree!” She smiled. “I like you, Andre.”
“I like you too.”
“And I feel like I can trust you.” She squeezed my knee. “I’d be proud to have a homosexual son like you.”
“Thank you.”
“And if Jim was my husband and Nelson my son, I’d be grateful, not judgmental like my sister, the judge.” She whispered, “Cynthia gets that from my mother and my mother’s sister. My aunt Elspeth acts like she’s queen bee because she lives in a fancy big house in Stowe, Vermont, overlooking a private waterfall.” She leaned into me. “When Cynthia and I were kids, Aunt Elspeth told my mother I was plain and common. But she invited Cynthia to spend the summer of her senior year in high school with her. Cynthia, the head cheerleader, didn’t want to leave her boyfriend, the football quarterback. But Mom convinced her to go. I didn’t have a boyfriend, but no invitation came from Aunt Elspeth.” She checked the flask on her lap and then placed it back inside her purse. “Looks like I’m running on empty. Luckily, I have another in my room.” She whispered, “I never travel light.” Chuckling, she got to her feet. “It was nice talking to you, Andre. I hope to see you again soon.”
The Player Page 18
