by Lee Hollis
“Now look at what you made me do!” Ivy wailed above the music. The festive mood was instantly broken as people stopped dancing to gawk at the embarrassing scene. The DJ, drawn to the commotion, even lowered the volume so he could hear what the feuding couple was saying.
“Relax. There are four more boxes in the car. Plenty to go around,” Nigel said in his clipped English voice, his face red with humiliation as everyone watched this sad depiction of a crumbling marriage like out of an Edward Albee play. “I’ll go get them.”
“Don’t touch them! I just want you to leave! Go back to the house. Hell, go back to England for all I care! Just leave me in peace so I can spend time with my friends and be happy for the first time in years!” she screamed.
Ivy fled into the kitchen passing Mason, who was standing near the swinging doors having just come out himself.
He wasn’t paying much attention to the drama unfolding in front of him.
He was more interested in staring across the room at Sabrina, who had regained her composure and was now focused on her good friend Ivy’s ill-timed meltdown.
The whole room just stood there watching Nigel, curious to know what he would do next.
It was a supremely uncomfortable moment for everyone.
Except for Charles McNally.
He beamed with utter delight.
Because as of this moment, the odds of Ivy Foster ending up back on the market had just increased significantly.
Chapter 10
Nigel looked around the room, realizing all eyes were upon him.
He quickly collected himself and then turned and marched out the door.
Hayley noticed her son Dustin recording the entire ugly scene on his camera, thrilled to be documenting such high drama, and giving his mother an enthusiastic thumbs up.
She suddenly felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder.
“Hayley, do you think I should go into the kitchen and talk to Ivy? I think she could really use a shoulder to cry on,” Charles McNally said, forgetting to wipe the delirious smile off his face.
“No, Charles. I really don’t think that would be such a good idea right now,” Hayley said.
“You’re right. I should have a couple of cocktails first, you know, fill up on some liquid courage, just to take the edge off before I go for it.”
Charles ambled over to the bar, raising a pudgy index finger to attract the attention of the bartender.
The door to the golf club flew open again before the DJ had a chance to crank the volume of the music back up, and the crowd was jarred by a cacophony of familiar ear-splitting high pitched yelping.
Ivy’s seven toy poodles.
Nigel, face full of rage, stormed through the crowd, dragging the dogs by their leashes, the leather straps all tethered together in Nigel’s hammy white knuckled fists. One of the dogs, maybe Sleepy but who really knows, was too slow and couldn’t keep up. Nigel didn’t slow down; he just yanked the leashes harder, and the poor little guy lost his balance and wound up being dragged across the hardwood floor on his butt.
With his free hand, Nigel slammed open the swinging doors, the dogs still yelping and yapping behind him, and disappeared into the kitchen where the crowd heard more loud shouting.
“If you truly want me to leave, I am not going to be stuck with these glorified rats! Take them! Let’s see how well you can handle them without me around to buy them treats and pick them up from the groomers!” Nigel cried.
“Good riddance!” they heard Ivy scream. “They never liked you anyway!”
Hayley signaled the DJ who finally turned up the music, drowning out the warring couple in the kitchen.
But people were no longer in the mood to dance.
Most were gathered around in little groups to gossip about what they had just witnessed.
A few minutes passed before Nigel stomped out of the kitchen, this time without the dogs in tow, passing Sabrina and Nykki, who were in a corner by themselves still engaged in an intense discussion.
They never even bothered to look up when Nigel blew past them and out the door this time for good.
Unlike the rest of their classmates, Sabrina and Nykki couldn’t be less interested in the public meltdown of their best friend Ivy’s marriage.
It appeared they had something far more serious to talk about.
But if Nykki was detailing what she had witnessed between Hayley and Mason in the kitchen earlier, why was it taking Sabrina so long to march over to Hayley and confront her about it?
Mona stumbled over to Hayley, a dopey grin on her face, swishing around the remnants of her sixth or seventh cocktail in the bottom of her plastic cup. “I got to hand it to you, Hayley. I’m glad you and Gemma forced me to come. This is the best reunion ever!”
“See? I knew you’d enjoy reconnecting with old friends if you just gave it a chance, Mona,” Hayley said.
“Hell, no. That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, watching that nasty mean girl Ivy cause such an embarrassing scene and make a complete ass of herself, well, I couldn’t have dreamed of a better time!”
Mona slurped down the rest of her drink and wandered away toward the bar.
Hayley turned her attention back to Sabrina and Nykki.
They were no longer huddled together in deep discussion.
They were now staring over at the table where Liddy sat to greet the late stragglers and collect the twenty dollar entrance fee and hand them their name tag. There were just three or four tags left to be claimed but none of them belonged to the robust, full figured woman in a ratty gray sweater full of holes, a housedress in dire need of a wash, and a red weathered Boston Celtics cap with scuff marks, the visor fraying at the edges.
She looked like a homeless person.
And for all Hayley knew, she was.
It was Vanda Spears.
Vanda was in Hayley’s class through most of middle school and part of high school. She was an eccentric girl to say the least—some might say crazy—who had a habit of talking to herself and disappearing into her own little world. She was constantly being sent to the school psychiatrist for evaluation, but her parents refused to accept the fact that there was anything wrong with her. They simply chalked it up to her being creative and a free spirit.
But it was clear Vanda was unlike the other kids in her class. And when someone is different, they frequently become the target of bullies. Vanda was certainly no exception. When she was younger, boys would push her down into mud puddles on the playground or grab her from behind and force her face into a snow bank during the winter. They would call her names and kick the back of her seat on the school bus.
And the girls in Vanda’s class were even worse. Particularly when Vanda entered high school and the cliques began to grow into little armies of pettiness and aggression. The most vicious bunch of all of course was Sabrina, Nykki, and Ivy, who took a perverse pleasure in humiliating her in front of everyone. They convinced her that the captain of the basketball team had a huge crush on her and forged a Valentine’s Day card from him professing his love. When Vanda tried to kiss him in the cafeteria he pushed her away so violently she fell into a table and knocked it over, trays of mystery meat and lumpy mashed potatoes sliding off and covering her head. She dropped out of school shortly during sophomore year never to return.
Hayley had seen her around town from time to time.
She had heard Vanda had been in and out of various mental health facilities. Her parents had long since passed away and were no longer around to help her get by. Rumor had it she had a sympathetic cousin in Florida who would put her up in St. Petersburg during the winter, but Vanda missed the island and would pop up during the spring and summer months to walk the streets. God only knew where she stayed while in town. Maybe under a tree in Acadia National Park, avoiding the rangers who might catch her after closing hours.
Liddy moved aside and allowed Vanda to jaunt merrily through the crowd smiling and nodding to her former classmates.
&nb
sp; Hayley rushed over to her.
“What’s Vanda Spears doing here?”
“I have no idea,” Liddy gasped. “But she was insistent that I let her in so she could spend time with some of her old friends.”
A few people smiled nervously at Vanda as she stopped to say hello, whereas others turned their backs, pretending not to see her.
“I guess there’s no harm in letting her stay even though she didn’t pay like everybody else,” Hayley said.
Hayley suddenly felt her arm yank back and she was spun around by Nykki, who was standing shoulder to shoulder with Sabrina, both with mortified looks on their faces.
“Hayley, how could you let Vanda Spears in here?” Nykki asked in an urgent hushed voice. “You know she wasn’t in our class!”
“Technically she was. She just didn’t graduate with us,” Hayley said.
“That’s no excuse. You need to ask her to leave right now,” Sabrina whispered, clutching her chest with one hand as if she were having heart palpitations.
“I really don’t see the harm in letting her stay,” Hayley said.
“She’s a bonafide looney tune and she’s going to ruin the reunion for everybody unless you get her out now!” Nykki wailed.
“I don’t understand. Why do you care so much?” Liddy asked, taking a perverse pleasure in watching her nemesis Nykki suddenly becoming so unhinged.
“Please, just do it!” Sabrina begged.
There was an eruption of barking in the kitchen.
The dogs were at it again.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hayley saw Charles McNally button a button on his shirt that had popped open revealing his belly button, and then steeling himself as he walked into the kitchen, finally emboldened enough, or drunk enough, to seize his opportunity to comfort his beloved Ivy.
“Where is she? I don’t see her,” Liddy said.
“Who?” Hayley asked, drawn back into the conversation.
“Vanda. Do you think she left?”
“Let’s hope so,” Nykki said with a sigh.
Suddenly rising above the din of the dogs barking was a man’s anguished cry.
It was coming from the kitchen.
The swinging doors burst open and Charles McNally, his arms raised in the air, his face a frozen mask of grief and horror, stumbled out.
He could barely speak.
He just pointed toward the kitchen.
Leading the charge, Hayley dashed across the room with Liddy, Nykki, and Sabrina close on her heels. They were followed by a swarm of other startled and curious classmates. They all poured into the kitchen and stopped short at the grisly sight of Ivy Foster lying face down on the floor surrounded by her signature butter cream cupcakes as her devoted pack of tiny toy poodles named after the seven dwarves danced around her body yipping and yapping and howling in a panicked frenzy.
Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell
It is peak tourist season and that can only mean one thing. The police scanner on top of my refrigerator is buzzing a lot more with news of out-of-towner drama. In the last hour alone, there was one fender bender at the head of the island, one lost child on a mountain trail, a carry out off Dorr Mountain (which is usually someone who left the trail, slipped, and broke a leg or arm), a domestic disturbance at one of the hotels (too much vacation celebration with alcohol), and, last but not least, a car about to be submerged underwater at Bar Island.
This last one happens all the time in the summer because Bar Island is a big attraction for the tourists that visit Bar Harbor. One can access the island from West Street at the waterfront. A short road takes you right to the little rocky beach that overlooks the ocean. To your right is the town pier and the vast ocean, and to your left are the lovely old waterfront mansions and more ocean. But when low tide comes, water recedes and almost like magic a natural gravel land bridge opens up (the locals call it the bar) and you can walk or even drive your car over to the island to have a picnic, hike, or just explore. It’s a fun way to spend some time on an island for a few hours.
Unfortunately, some people do not realize that you only have a certain amount of time between low and high tide, and for those who have not checked their tide charts, or have failed to do a little research on the subject, they will arrive to explore it and see the path across wide open, not realizing the tide is coming in and they will pretty soon find themselves in a very sticky situation.
God knows I’ve seen this happen with tourists time and time again.
Last summer after indulging with a couple of delicious Cape Codder cocktails, I decided to take Leroy for a short walk. We headed to Bar Island so Leroy could chase seagulls and sniff shells. The tide wouldn’t be fully high for a couple of hours.
During the summer there were always a few locals like me there with their dogs or kids running around taking advantage of a beautiful post-dinner evening. It was fun to gossip and catch up with people you didn’t have the chance to see all the time. When the tide came in and started to cover the path between the mainland and the island, we called the dogs and kids back to head home, since it would begin a fast rise now.
That’s when we noticed that no one had yet come for the car that was parked almost right in the middle of the bar. This happens more often than not with the many tourists who visit here, but we noticed that this particular car had a Maine license plate, which was surprising since we locals pride ourselves on our expert knowledge about tides.
“Could be a rental,” I snorted. “Can’t be a local.”
It was a newer looking Mazda-type car. The sunroof was wide open and the water was just now beginning to creep up the sides of the tires.
No one was really worried yet because this unfortunately was a pretty normal occurrence. As the minutes passed and the tide rose higher and higher, now almost completely above the car’s tires, I decided it might be a good idea to give Chief Alvarez of the Bar Harbor Police Department a heads up with a quick phone call in case the owner did not return so he could at least send a tow truck for the car as the water was now up above the sides of the doors.
I punched the number into my cell phone and asked for the chief and was told by the night dispatcher Debbie that he was on another line, but since she knew the chief and I were family by marriage, she informed me he was talking to a worried local mother who was upset because her newly licensed teenage son had not yet returned home after borrowing her brand new Mazda over four hours ago.
I gasped and told her to interrupt the chief because I believed that there might be a possibility that this was the same car out on the bar and they had better hurry because the car was going to be completely underwater soon.
As I hung up and glanced at the rising tide that was now up to the car’s windows, I relayed the information I learned to the growing crowd on the beach.
Just then a truck came roaring down the street and screeched to a stop as a woman jumped out of the passenger side and came running toward us screaming that the car was hers and where was her son?
I immediately recognized her. Sarah Cumberland (I’ve changed her name to protect the not-so-innocent) . We were on the same sports boosters committee and our kids went to high school together. She was always trying to outdo me when it was our turn to provide snacks for the school sporting events. She would show up with her “famous” (or so she said) Cranberry Cream Cheese Bars and make a big fuss about placing them front and center on the table. That was usually followed by a snide remark about the brownies or cookies I had brought. But at least I followed the food list that had been emailed to me instead of “going rogue” like she always did.
We could now hear the police and fire trucks’ sirens getting closer.
This was turning into quite the drama so (and I must say with a little delight) I called my boss at the paper so he could get a photographer there and take a few pictures for tomorrow’s edition with his telephoto lens. There was no sense in wasting a good photo opportunity.
Now there was nothing left
to do but wait, hoping the woman’s son would be spotted on the beach waving for help.
Just then, two police cars and a fire truck arrived but still no tow truck because we were told they were busy dealing with a fender bender in Town Hill and by the time the one from Southwest Harbor could get there it would be too late to save the car, which by now was almost totally submerged.
I couldn’t resist commenting to a few of my fellow gawkers that this woman needed to keep a better eye on her kid especially nowadays when every teenager has a cell phone. It’s so easy to check in to prevent something like this from happening. I know it’s petty, but I took a perverse joy in the woman’s predicament, mostly because she was always showing me up in front of the other parents.
Just then, two small figures emerged from the woods and ran to the water’s edge screaming and waving their arms and jumping up and down yelling for help.
Chief Alvarez grabbed a bull horn from his police cruiser and told the frightened teens that a boat was on the way and if they could hear him to stop jumping and just wave. They followed his instructions.
We all sighed with relief when just a few minutes later we saw a park ranger boat come into view. They loaded up the huddled teens and ferried them back to the mainland.
Sarah looked so relieved to see her son safe and sound even as she yelled at him from across the bay that he wouldn’t be driving a car for a long time! It reminded me to check in on my own daughter. I called her cell and when she answered she seemed distracted. She started to explain but then the crowd erupted in cheers as the park ranger delivered the teens safely to shore, drowning out her voice. As the rangers helped the teenage boy out of the boat, right behind him I spotted a teenage girl, holding a cell phone to her ear. I did a double take! It was my daughter being escorted off the boat by a helpful park ranger. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a few people nodding and nudging each other while pointing at me. I knew I deserved it. I tightened my grip on Leroy’s leash and marched over to the boat and my embarrassed daughter.
