Inherit the Wool

by Betty Hechtman

  In the past I’d had two helpers, but since this retreat was so much smaller, I only needed one. I thought Crystal would mix well with the group and so had given her the job, plus I felt guilty about the mess I’d made. Since I was pretty sure none of the group knitted, Crystal had suggested teaching them how to knit and then designed an easy quick pattern for a scarf they’d be able to complete over the long weekend.

  She thanked me for the compliment and looked at the six bags on the counter. “I thought you just had five people coming.”

  “It’s six now. This last person is all very mysterious. The registration came in the mail with no return address. No name of the person was given and the payment came on a bank card.”

  “That does sound mysterious. I hope it doesn’t mean trouble,” Crystal said.

  “Ditto on that.” She showed me the three skeins of yarn each person would be getting and the large-size knitting needles. She had some pages stapled together with basic knitting instructions and the pattern for the scarf. After trying to fill one bag, I realized it wasn’t going to work. “I should have realized they would be way too bulky for me to hand out when they arrive.”

  Crystal shrugged and emptied everything back into the bin. “Why not just give everything out at the first workshop.” We settled for just putting in the packet of her sheets along with the ones I always added that had a schedule, map of the property and some information about the birds and the beasts in the area. I had emailed the schedule and some information about Vista Del Mar to the group but had no idea if they’d paid any attention.

  As she got ready to leave, she gave me a hug. “I’m sorry for being difficult. I’m sure you thought you were doing a good thing when you told my mother who she is. I just keep thinking of Cory and how much he loves Vista Del Mar.” Cory was her son, who had already worked part-time at Vista Del Mar and seemed to have inherited an affinity to the place from his great-grandfather.

  “Maybe something will happen and it will all work out,” I said.

  Crystal rolled her eyes again. “When pigs fly.” She knew that was one of my favorite sayings about impossible situations and we both laughed.

  With Crystal gone, I went back into the main house. Main house sounded so grand, but it was really more like a cottage with two bedrooms and one bath. I had given up on the idea of doing any work on the living room with the retreat due to start in a few hours. It was just a diversion anyway, so I wouldn’t have to think about facing my college group again.

  I heard someone at the kitchen door again. When I walked into the room, there appeared to be no one at the door until I opened it and a man popped out of the bushes.

  “Casey, all this sneaking around is exciting, but do we really have to drive all the way to Santa Cruz just to see a movie when there is a perfectly good theater with three screens in downtown Cadbury?” he said, slipping inside. Dane Mangano was in his police uniform, and all the equipment on his belt banged into me as he reached to hug me and then moved on to a kiss.

  Dane and I were almost in a relationship. He was all for moving ahead on our obvious attraction to each other. I was the one holding back. I told myself that it was because I didn’t want to start something in case I decided to repeat my history and ended up moving on. But bottom line, his directness scared me. I’d finally agreed to go out with him on the condition that nobody in town knew about it. We had gone out once in public view and we’d been the immediate subject of teasing speculation. Dane didn’t seem to mind. I couldn’t handle it.

  “If anybody asks, I’m here because you thought there was a prowler,” he said, pulling me closer to him. He had a good-natured grin on his face and I knew this was all fun to him.

  “All your stuff is poking me,” I said, matching his grin, looking around as if someone was going to see us.

  “Really? You think somebody is going to pop out of the bushes.” The grin had turned into a laugh and then he looked at me. “We could pick this up later,” he said, reluctantly letting me go. “I could shut all the curtains at my place.” I knew he was teasing, maybe with a little hope attached. I’d avoided being alone with him at his place. Not that he wouldn’t be a gentleman. It was more me that I was worried about. To put it mildly, Dane was hot. All his jogging and karate had left him toned and overflowing with a good-spirited sort of energy. It seemed that around me anyway, his eyes were usually dancing with a smile.

  “I know, one step at a time. At least can I hold your hand at the movies?” he joked.

  I reminded him about my retreat and that I probably wouldn’t see much of him over the weekend. “It’s supposed to be a reunion retreat, so I’m going to have to be there most of the time.”

  “It is just a bunch of girls, right?” he said.

  “Bunch of women,” I corrected. “And yes, just women this time.” As far as I knew anyway.

  “This is supposed to be my lunch break.” He glanced around the kitchen for signs of food. He of all people knew that while I was adept at making desserts and muffins, when it came to cooking regular food I was pretty much a washout. It was all frozen entrees, envelopes of instant oatmeal and peanut butter sandwiches. My big step had been that I’d started making brewed coffee. I couldn’t take the instant stuff anymore. I offered to put on a pot and bring out the peanut butter.

  “That’s okay,” he said, going to my refrigerator. “I’ll make my own lunch.” Dane was very self-sufficient. It had come from growing up fatherless with an alcoholic mother and a younger sister he had to look after. While acting like a badass at school, he’d come home and taken care of everything. Before I could offer to help, he was making scrambled eggs. I did manage the coffee.

  We were sitting down at my kitchen table when the door opened. On instinct Dane jumped up, but then he relaxed when he saw the tall hulking figure was Sammy—also known as Dr. Sammy Glickner, urologist, and the Amazing Dr. Sammy, the magician. He was also my ex-boyfriend who insisted that he hadn’t followed me from Chicago and that he was only staying in Cadbury because he had a chance to be a doctor by day and a magician by night.

  Sammy’s eyes went over the whole scene and I knew he was trying to figure out what the situation was. His face fell when he saw the eggs on the table. “You’re having breakfast together?” he said.

  “It’s kind of late for breakfast,” I said. “Dane thought he saw a prowler outside and he came in to check.”

  “And cook eggs?” Sammy said.

  I made some excuse about my cooking ability and said Dane was trying to rescue the food. Julius had come into the kitchen and was sitting down watching it all while eyeing the refrigerator, probably hoping someone would give him some stink fish.

  No matter what Sammy said, I knew he had hopes we’d somehow get back together, and I hated to make him feel bad, so I tried to get his mind off seeing Dane there by asking him what was up.

  “I wanted to drop this off,” Sammy said, handing me a box. I opened it and took out a romper that was covered with shiny spangles. “It’s for the show on Sunday. We really should practice since it’s a new illusion.”

  It took a moment to compute what he was talking about. I’d gotten so caught up in the arrangements for the retreat that I’d forgotten all about Sammy’s gig at one of the posh Pebble Beach resorts. Along with all my other professions, I’d become a magician’s assistant. It was all because I’d stepped in at the last minute for Sammy when his assistant baled. The illusion had inadvertently turned into more of a comedy routine. Instead of it being a disaster, the audience loved it and thought it was planned. Two things happened afterward—Sammy realized how to make his act unique and he begged me to stay on because we played off each other so well.

  “But I have a retreat this weekend,” I said.

  “Case, I can’t do it without you,” he said, using his nickname for me. As if Casey wasn’t short enough, and all he did was take off the last syllable. His expression had crumpled and he had that puppy-dog look in his dark eyes that alwa
ys got to me. Dane seemed about to say something, when his radio crackled and I heard something about a problem with some kids theater-hopping at the local movie house. He got up to leave and seemed at a loss for how to say goodbye. He finally settled on a squeeze of my shoulder and muttering that he’d see me later.

  Sammy seemed relieved when he was gone. “If you can’t do it, I’ll have to cancel,” he said with some panic in his voice. I suggested he get a replacement and his eyes grew more soulful. “No one can replace you.”

  It was both a compliment and a burden. I couldn’t let him down. “I’ll figure out a way to do it, but I don’t have any time to practice it before the show.” The big finale of his performance was making me levitate. I knew the basics and I hoped that would be enough. He’d been hired for an anniversary party and the gig was another shot at a step up from the small-time stuff he’d been doing. He hoped it would open the door for bigger things to follow.

  Sammy’s face brightened and he gave me a hug before turning to go. “Case, you’re the only one who gets me.”

  I glanced at the spangled romper and shook my head. Me in that was going to make comedy easy.

  Chapter Two

  It was my habit to do a last-minute check on the accommodations for my retreaters before they arrived. It wasn’t really necessary for this retreat because it was so small, but I went across to Vista Del Mar anyway.

  My house was on the edge of Cadbury by the Sea and the area was a lot wilder in appearance than the main part of town. There were no sidewalks or streetlights, and instead of front lawns most people let the dirt fill in with native plants. Vista Del Mar was literally across the street from my place, but once I walked through the stone pillars that marked the entrance to the Vista Del Mar driveway, it was like a different world.

  Vista Del Mar took the idea of left to grow wild to a whole new level. Whatever grew there had decided to on its own. I glanced along the side of the driveway at the lanky Monterey pines surrounded by brush and had more second thoughts about the upcoming retreat. I hoped I’d made it clear to my group they weren’t coming to a posh resort with a manicured lawn and perfectly trimmed bushes.

  I saw that one of the trees had fallen and I knew it would be left to return to nature on its own. I’d heard the same was true of any wildlife that met their demise there. Because of that I always avoided examining the underbrush too carefully.

  The sky was a flat white, which was pretty typical, and by now I was used to traveling without a shadow. I passed my favorite large Monterey cypress tree. The constant breeze had shaped it so that the foliage grew horizontally. It was silly but the tree always made me think of someone running away with their hair trailing behind. I followed the driveway to the area I considered the heart of Vista Del Mar. The Lodge was in the center and was a social hall and the place where people checked in. It had been there since the days when Vista Del Mar was a camp, and like the other buildings was built in the Arts and Crafts style, which meant dark wood, lots of windows and local stone. The chapel was tucked in a corner against the sand dunes. The Sea Foam dining hall was just down the way. Trees blocked the view, but I knew that Hummingbird Hall was on the other side of them at the top of a slope. It served as an event area and auditorium.

  The guest rooms were in weathered, moody-looking buildings that were spread over the one hundred or so acres that made up the grounds. Sand dunes ran along the edge of the property. A street wound around the sandy border. Beyond was the white sand beach and the ocean. I still marveled that the water really was sea foam green. I glanced around me and sighed. Personally I loved the untamed beauty of the grounds, but I wasn’t so sure my group would feel the same.

  When I pulled open the door to the Lodge, it was deathly quiet. But then, it was that time between people checking out and leaving and the new arrivals checking in. I was surprised that there wasn’t even a clerk behind the massive wooden registration counter. Most weekends there were a number of group events planned. Bird watchers loved the place, and so did yoga and meditation groups. I’d seen writers’ conferences and business retreats there as well. Oddly, on this particular long weekend the only retreat scheduled was mine. It didn’t mean that the place would be empty, just that instead of groups it would be filled with individuals and families.

  The interior felt cavernous due to the open construction of the ceiling and the size of the main room. I glanced around for some signs of life. There was a crackling fire going in the massive stone fireplace next to the deserted seating area, which was made up of some soft leather couches and mission-style chairs. The lamps were turned on and their amber-colored glass shades gave the space at least some feeling of coziness.

  I momentarily paused when I glanced at the row of vintage phone booths near the counter. I did tell my group about Vista Del Mar being unplugged, didn’t I?

  With no one behind the counter I couldn’t check on my people’s rooms. In the meantime, the smell of fresh coffee drew me into the Cora and Madeleine Delacorte Café. It was a recent and very welcomed addition to Vista Del Mar and was the closest thing there was to room service, as long as you acted as your own waiter. Stan, the new hire, was behind the counter leaning over his laptop. He was a writer along with being a barista. He looked up when I came in. “I know you want a cappuccino, short on the milk,” he said with a friendly smile.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked, gesturing toward the main room.

  “Well, I’m here,” a woman’s voice said. I had mistakenly thought the tables were all empty, but now I saw that Madeleine Delacorte was sitting in a corner by the window. Stan said he’d bring me my drink and I went to her table.

  I thought about my earlier conversation with Crystal. It was so strange to think that the woman in front of me had no idea she was Crystal’s great-aunt. For a moment I wondered if I should say something, but a voice in the back of my mind that sounded remarkably like my ex-boss Frank’s told me to stay out of it. Madeleine was definitely the more likeable of the two Delacorte sisters and we’d actually become friends. At seventy-something, she had rebelled against the restrictive way she’d been brought up and lived for years. While her sister, Cora, kept to wearing Chanel suits and too much eye shadow, Madeleine had discovered denim and was in love with jeans. She had started hanging out at my retreats and somehow credited me with the change in her life. And by the same token, I’m sure her sister Cora blamed me.

  “What do you think?” Madeleine said, sticking out her leg and showing off her dark-washed skinny jeans. “These are the best, so comfortable.” She wore a black tunic on top and ankle boots and carried off the look perfectly. She had changed her hairstyle from an over-sprayed helmet look to a swingy blunt cut that made her appear cute. The current color of a soft brown and her light touch with makeup shaved years off her age.

  “When does everybody get here?” she asked in an excited voice.

  I froze, realizing that when I’d told her about the retreat she had assumed it would be like the others that she’d tagged along on. Stan dropped off my foam-topped drink as I considered how to handle it. How could I tell her this time she wasn’t welcome? It was simple—I couldn’t. As the owners of Vista Del Mar, the sisters had given me the same wonderful deal on accommodations my aunt had gotten. It was the difference between me making a profit and being out of business, and I was most grateful. I didn’t want to do anything that might make them rethink the arrangement.

  “They’ll be here soon,” I said. “But you understand this isn’t going to be like the other retreats I’ve put on. These are all people I knew in college.”

  She was undeterred. “I know. But that makes it even better. I never had a bunch of girlfriends when I was growing up. I want to see what it’s like.”

  “They’re not exactly my girlfriends,” I said. “I knew them in college, though I kind of lost touch with them since. But I guess it will give you the idea of what you missed.”

  I took a sip of my cappuccino. Stan had gotten the p
erfect mix of espresso and steamed milk. I looked toward the counter, ready to give him a thumbs-up, as two women walked into the café. They were pulling roller bags and seemed a little lost. My first thought was that they were my people, but then reality set in and I realized it was too early.

  “I want to check in but there’s nobody there,” one of them said. She wore a floppy khaki brimmed hat, khaki cargo pants and rope sandals.

  “Ditto for me,” the other woman said. She seemed a little younger and her headgear was a beige baseball cap with nothing written on it. She wore loose-fitting clothes that made me think she was either deeply into comfort or recently had lost weight.

  “That’s terrible,” Madeleine said, getting up from her table. She got me to come with her and we approached the pair. Madeleine held out her hand and introduced herself as one of the owners. Then she turned to me. “We can’t leave people hanging like this. Do something, Casey.”

  “Like what? Should I go look for Kevin St. John?” I asked. While Madeleine and Cora were the owners of Vista Del Mar, they left most of the running of it to the manager, Kevin St. John.

  “You must know how to check people in,” Madeleine said to me. “Take care of them and I’ll search for Mr. St. John.” We were standing in the doorway by then, and before I could object, she’d taken off across the main room toward the exit like a woman on a mission.

  “This isn’t my usual job,” I said, looking at the massive wooden counter. “I just have to find a way to get to the other side of it.” I assured them it would just take a minute. The counter completely closed off the business area, and the only way to get behind it was by going through a door to the side, which of course turned out to be locked.

  I looked at the shiny dark wood counter and there was no other recourse. So I took a deep breath, boosted myself onto the smooth top and slid over it, landing on my feet with a thud.