The checkout stand press never bothered to discuss the development. They were too interested in the story of the kidnapped corpse. The body of Regina Rabinowicz remained missing. Any chance of Van Elkind quietly paying the ransom had long since vanished.
The FBI, having taken an interest in the case, visited Cynthia one day. When they left, she said she thought they suspected Kip Van Elkind, who had disappeared at about the same time as Regina’s death. So far the tabloids hadn’t picked up on that minor detail.
Back in the square, the people joined voices in a rendition of “We Shall Overcome.” I was tired of seeing them. The demonstration had been going on for over an hour. None of the reporters were going to eat in my cafe as long as they might find a good camera shot.
The bell on the door tinkled and Jacqueline Grant walked in. She was truly a woman of style. She smiled at the three of us, “My part is over, so I wanted to come by and say hello to Cynthia. I don’t get to see as much of her as I would like now that Chip and I are on opposite sides.”
“I must say I’m quite surprised you’re leading this demonstration,” I said.
“Did you see Josh?” Danny asked of no one in particular. “I wish he would get out of there.”
“Wally, are you surprised that I would get involved or are you surprised that I would take this position?” Jacqueline asked.
“To be honest: Both.”
“I’m just a romantic at heart. I believe in the land and all the old legends. Chip seems so willing to destroy it all.”
Cynthia protested, “Chip doesn’t want to destroy anything.”
“You believe that because you love him. But I’ve loved him a very long time as a sister, and yet I have no idea of his true intents. I’d like to think of him as the original Frozen Bear in our legends, ready to restore us all. But I know that he isn’t.”
A hint of an old story and Cynthia was immediately hooked. “What old legend?” she asked eagerly.
“Just a story my grandmother used to tell me. A story handed down in our tribe. I can tell it if you like.”
Cynthia eagerly encouraged Jacqueline, who began:
“This story takes place before time was defined, when the Great Spirit Father still moved among us. Days and nights had no specific starts. More things were possible then because there were no clocks to pace off the passing of our lives. We lived simply, in touch with our mother, the earth, in touch with all of the creatures the Great Spirit had made.
“A Trickster lived in the great forest then. The Trickster had powers not found among normal people. He plotted things for the pleasure resulting from the confusion caused by his actions. He didn’t care if anyone was hurt by his japes, because he paid no attention to such things.
“The first people of our family lived then, and they were much happier than they are now. They lived on a beautiful island surrounded by a vast lake. And on all sides of the lake spread a never-ending forest.
“One of these people was Snow Flower, the most beautiful of all women in our tribe. Another was Frozen Bear, a man so handsome and so strong that all other men in the tribe wanted to be like him. Snow Flower secretly loved Frozen Bear, and he her. But they had been afraid to tell one another.
“But the Trickster saw their love and was annoyed by it. He didn’t like any hint of true happiness, and so he thought he would have some fun. One spring day when Frozen Bear was hunting in the vast woods, the Trickster transformed himself into an enormous buck and lured the hunting Frozen Bear deep into the forest, far, far from home.
“The darkness of the night descended. In the night, the Trickster simply vanished from sight, leaving Frozen Bear in the woods. But the Trickster returned to the island in the middle of the vast lake. Once there, he froze time across all of the island and all of the lake. Nothing could move, nothing could change.
“On the lake, the other men had been spearing for muskie. They had been floating in shallow water in small boats. One man in each boat held aloft a blazing torch to light the waters for signs of the fish. There were many boats, because we were many then. Their fishing created the sight of a lake of flames, and in the freezing of time, the flames never flickered, never burned. The light just reflected from the dark water.
“But deep within the forest, Frozen Bear still moved. The Trickster had not enchanted him. But he had deceived the handsome hunter. During the earlier chase, the Trickster had given Frozen Bear the fleetness of a mighty stag, and so unknowingly, Frozen Bear had raced deep into the dark recesses of the forests. Now his fleetness was gone, and he was far from home.
“Yet as far as he was from where time had stopped for Snow Flower, Frozen Bear could sense that something had happened. He knew that he had to return, and to return quickly. Snow Flower needed him.
“The Trickster understood that Frozen Bear would know. The power of love is mighty and soars far. But the Trickster was set to have fun with Frozen Bear. And so as Frozen Bear started to retrace his tracks, to return to Snow Flower, the Trickster caused the moon and all of the stars to retreat, and he forbade the sun to arrive. The enormous darkness that had once existed when there was only the Great Spirit had returned.
“The Great Spirit could see what the Trickster was doing. He did not like it. And so he decided to help Frozen Bear discover the strengths within himself. He whispered through the wind, ‘Look inside yourself for the powers you need.’
“And Frozen Bear thought of all the animals he knew throughout the land and into the seas. He thought of the bat, and how it could fly through the darkest of night. In thinking of the bat, he became the bat and began to fly through the darkness, listening to the noises that bounced in front of him.
“But the Trickster was not to be so easily stopped. Allowing the stars and moon back, he instead grew a wall of briars that reached to the moon, that touched the stars and kept on growing. There was no way for anyone to fly over its great height, or through its enormous thickness.
“Frozen Bear stopped and descended to the ground, faced with this daunting wall of thorns. The wind rose up once more, and the Great Spirit whispered, “Look inside yourself.”
“Frozen Bear thought of his friend, the badger, and he began to claw at the ground with a ferocity and strength not imaginable. He dug beneath the briars, far down below their roots, then back up and soon he was on the other side. He had to reach Snow Flower and help her.
“The Trickster smiled to himself. Frozen Bear was a more formidable human than he had ever encountered. He conjured up a battalion of wicked and deformed spirits from within the earth. They came up and out of the ground and surrounded Frozen Bear.
“In Frozen Bear’s ears, he could still hear the wind and in his heart he could still hear the cry of Snow Flower. He thought of himself as the courageous bear with fierce claws and a mighty jaw. He clawed and fought through the Trickster’s minions.
“Finally, he was at the lake’s edge. He was at the watery edge of movement, caught outside of time. He touched one foot to the water, and sensed that it would become frozen there, encased in time. His mind and body, still on the mainland, could move and think. But if he entered into the timeless zone, he would be caught fully in the Trickster’s snare.
“He looked at the lake, lit by the flaming torches of his many friends, now fishing in eternity. He could think of no one who could cross through this, except for the wind itself, the wind of the Great Spirit.
“The Great Spirit was much impressed with the power and intelligence of Frozen Bear. Not even the Trickster’s might could affect the Great Spirit, and so he entered into the water as a powerful muskie. He swam outside of time to the edge of the shore, and the wind whispered to Frozen Bear, ‘Stand on the back of the Muskie. It will carry you to the island.’
“Frozen Bear listened to the wind. He trusted it and it became his heart. And on the back of the Great Spirit he was conveyed through the Trickster’s snare, until he was face to face with Snow Flower, who was caught herself in unmoving ti
me at the water’s edge, standing on shore, watching the fishermen, waiting for the return of Frozen Bear.
“The Great Muskie could bring Frozen Bear to the edge of the lake, but there still remained that gulf between Frozen Bear and Snow Flower. If he stepped off the muskie and into the water to cross to shore, he would be ensnared by time.
“’How do I save her?’ wondered Frozen Bear, and he looked into his heart, and he saw his love, and he saw the love of everyone around him. Their love of life. Their love of the earth. Their love for one another. He saw the love of every animal for life itself. He saw the love that was everywhere but in the Trickster’s soul. He knew that love could trick the Trickster. Still standing on the muskie-back of the Great Spirit, Frozen Bear stretched his body across the gulf of water until his face was close enough to kiss the lips of Snow Flower.
“As their lips met, the flow of time returned. Snow Flower returned the kiss of Frozen Bear. The flames of the torches across the lake flickered and jumped in the breeze. The Great Spirit, leaving the giant muskie, allowed it to break into a thousand smaller fish. As the fish dissolved into many, Frozen Bear’s feet landed in the water. Snow Flower caught him with her arms and they kissed once more.
“The many fish sped throughout the lake. Soon all the fisherman were holding aloft muskie on their spears. And in the sky and the wind, the Great Spirit had returned to his home and he laughed. And he called forth the Trickster and said, ‘Leave my people alone’ and cast the Trickster into the form of a skunk.
“That night, all of my people held a great feast, enjoying the muskie given to them by the Great Spirit, and celebrating the love of Frozen Bear and Snow Flower.
“And this story was told by Snow Flower and Frozen Bear to their children, who told it to their children, who in turn told it to theirs, and so on and so on, and now I tell it to you, so someday you may tell it to yours.”
We were all entranced. I thought of our own Chip Frozen Bear. Would he fight so hard for Cynthia? Would he battle so hard for his tribe?
“What a beautiful story,” Cynthia said. “But what does it mean?”
“Listen to the wind. Listen to your heart. Love is what will always save us. I’m glad you love my brother,” Jacqueline held her hand across the table to touch Cynthia and smiled at us all.
In that moment, I felt hope that things would turn out all right.
spring forward again
chapter twenty
Around the town square, vibrant swatches of purple pansies alternated with yellow beds to create an interweaving border of color. From our third-story perch in the bank building, it was a floral tapestry of bright color caught within the light breeze and bright sunshine of a June afternoon. Taking a cue from landscapes at Disneyland, all of the planted pansies were an especially cultured breed that had no faces. The result was uniform and intense.
The management of American Seasons was moving quickly to demonstrate to the world their user-friendly, all-American and antiseptic vision of a northwoods retreat. Bromley Bastique rolled over for any requests made by the corporation. First to change was the town square. A battalion of landscapers and gardeners descended one weekend with flatbeds filled with roses and hedges. This was followed by a semi-truck transporting a wooden jigsaw puzzle that was quickly assembled into an octagonal turn-of-the century pavilion, open on all sides. This ornate Victorian addition to the Square was covered with curlicues and intricately carved balustrades. One day, it was assembled. The next it was painted white. And on the third, hanging baskets of red begonias were suspended in the center of each of the eight archways.
Next came the refurbishment of the buildings surrounding the Square. First the sandblasters roared through, restoring the red brick by blasting away decades of peeling paint. Then the scaffolding went up, and the teams of painters, an army in white pants and shirts, marched out each morning carrying paintbrushes and an ochre-cast rainbow of Victorian paints. The tints and tones were carefully applied to highlight each detail of forgotten filigree. Had the town ever looked so smashing, even when the buildings were new?
Sadly, nothing transformed the shops within. So the same old washed-up souvenirs graced the Little Papoose. The same bizarre fashions were showcased in Lil's. The same local crowd guzzled beers and boilermakers at the Northern Nights.
All that remained problematic was the Piggly Wiggly. The optimistic, futuristic bare-bones steel and glass front of Red’s grocery store stood as rebuke to the rest of Thread. The American Seasons team had already devised a new false facade, making a liberal use of logs and moss to transform the final side of the square into a simulacrum of an old trading post for the original French trappers. But Red balked. He had become testy about destroying things he had discovered that he truly loved–the quiet and serenity of his favorite fishing lakes, the small town simplicity of Thread. Cynthia reported that Red often awoke early in the morning, sweaty and gasping, murmuring of nightmares involving a giant muskie.
Bromley had no such miasmas. He walked the streets of Thread with a pomposity that more than matched his significant bulk. He was the spokesperson for all local views. He voraciously sought out every reporter. He had been quoted internationally. He preened on each request that came from the American Seasons folk. But even he balked when they asked to take down the giant wooden loon at the town’s edge. It seemed too silly, the town’s redesigners said, and besides the sculpture was riddled with carpenter ants and beyond repair. Bromley declared the bird could never be removed. They argued. The designers even asked Red to apply pressure, who ignored their prods.
The loon belonged to the township, which meant it was under Bromley’s control. And he refused to budge. Finally, the lead American Seasons designer made a last valiant try while Bromley drank morning coffee and ate sweet rolls in my cafe. Once more, Bromley refused, this time threatening to revoke all building permits if he were asked about the giant loon one more time. The fellow made a hasty retreat. Claire leaned over and planted a giant wet and sloppy kiss on Bromley’s cheek. “Thank you,” she said.
He smiled at her indulgently, but said nothing.
So the new Thread had begun. It was a town filled with the smell of fresh paint and of profits to be made. Real estates prices were jumping each day, as speculators circled in to scavenge the best parcels that were still to be had. And those of us who had made this renaissance possible gathered in the large conference room on the third floor of the newly named American Seasons Building in downtown Thread. The heavy glass and chrome conference table glimmered. The black swivel chairs smelled of new leather. The walls, hand painted to look old and weathered, were covered with optimistic watercolors depicting the lands of Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall at American Seasons. And the uncurtained windows were sparkling clean, providing an unencumbered view, the highest in town, flinging our senses across the lakes and woods that were ours. The place bore no resemblance to the old bank building, except in the optimism that had spawned its original construction a century ago.
Tesla Haligent sat stolidly at the head of the conference table. At the opposite end Henry Van Elkind tried to convey the impression that he held the head spot, but the pull-down screen for the slide presentation said otherwise. Between these two tycoons were the others: Red Trueheart, the Oxford heir, Priscilla Jouer and a dozen other new directors of the corporation. At some point in the past few months, Hank had been forced to kick Amanda Manny from the inner circle. Her lack of talent had become too obvious. Today, only Chip Frozen Bear was missing. The rest were waiting, impatiently, for this remaining key person to arrive.
As for me, I too had been kicked from this inner circle, serving today only as a caterer for the luncheon meeting of the Board of Directors of American Seasons, Inc. The Hill and Knowlton people had seen no need for a small town cafe owner to be part of any marketing campaign. Regis McKenna, fresh from his marketing success in introducing Macintosh for Apple Computer, had been brought in at several thousand dollars a day to offer his
advice. He too had been quick to boot the chef.
“I was so sorry to hear about your son,” said one of the Hill and Knowlton flacks to Van Elkind. Overhearing it, Haligent glared in disapproval. Van Elkind simply suffered.
The body of Regina Rabinowicz had finally been found last week secreted in the cavernous attics of the Van Elkind camp, where Kip Van Elkind had hid her. He had been the body snatcher, the blackmailer and the crazed villain. No one knew his motives. They only knew that he had placed his embalmed grandmother leaning against a wall in the top floor of the camp, her face turned toward a small window that displayed her favorite view of the sparkling waters of the lake.
“Thank you for your concern,” replied Van Elkind. “Unfortunately, Kip has serious mental disorders, and we have placed him under the best of psychiatric care. I do not think the state will charge him with anything. Obviously, neither Rita nor I would press charges. And no one was hurt.” He made that final statement with quite a grimace. Tesla, who had been eavesdropping, smiled indulgently. Even I knew that Van Elkind had been enormously damaged by his son’s bizarre plot. The tabloid press enjoyed the story tremendously, and the resulting headlines were even worse than anything Henry had envisioned.
Investors in a billion-dollar project were not interested in having their projects led by a person with a crazy son and burdened by a ghoulish story gone national. After a quiet reorchestration, Tesla Haligent was firmly in control of American Seasons. Based on the news, Haligent Holdings had risen another 20 percent in value over the past week.
Still, Van Elkind’s soul must have held at least a bit of happiness. He had seen an opportunity, unimaginable to most, and had created a new reality. He had combined bits of land, acquired under somewhat questionable tactics, with re-emerging Native American rights and integrated it with a vision that could attract investment dollars on a magnitude that would never have been imaginable to me.
Tales From The Loon Town Cafe Page 37
