Diana poured coffee into three mugs and put them on a tray. Nellie liked milk and sugar. Casey black. Nels milk. She returned to the library, served the coffee, and joined the community seated in a large circle on the oriental carpet.
Nellie and Karen were still facing off across the circle. “Nick Renner was never my boyfriend,” Nellie insisted. “Does he know I’m here?”
“You slept with him,” Karen said. “Maybe he’s not your boyfriend, but you screwed him and told him he could hunt on our property.”
“That was fifteen years ago. Besides,” Nellie said, smiling, “he asked politely.”
“For which privilege?”
“Ladies!” Casey clapped his hands. “We have to get to work here.”
Karen shook her head. “You know, Casey, it’s important to have emotional clearing at least. That really is important. You can’t have an effective business meeting if people are holding grudges.”
“That may be,” Casey said. “But we don’t have time to resolve fifty years of sibling rivalry. It’s already October, the days are getting shorter, the nights are getting cooler, and we have a hotel to winterize. Let’s talk about firewood. Unless anybody has any other announcements?”
That’s what Diana liked best about the new order of things: Casey’s control. Casey’s kind control. Casey.
“Announcements?”
Baxter stood up and honked his horn. His eyes wide, he pointed out the window looking west. The others followed his gaze. A tall dark man with long white hair and a thicket of white beard was striding across the far end of the meadow with a staff in one hand and a pack on his back.
“Oh Jesus,” Casey moaned. “Is that another Renner? Should I call the sheriff?”
“No,” Karen said softly. “That’s not another Renner.”
“That’s your boyfriend,” Nellie said. “Right, Karen?”
“No.”
“He’s our teacher,” Diana said. “He comes through occasionally.”
“How long does he stay?” Casey asked.
“Never any longer than this,” Diana answered, fondly watching Nqong disappear into the woods on the other side of the meadow. “It’s always so good to see him.”
———
The firewood arrived at ten. Casey was on the phone in the lobby, trying to get a better price on linen service out of Anacapa. Seeing the truck outside on the driveway, he held his hand over the receiver and asked Arthur, who was waiting around for something to do, to go out and give the driver instructions. “It goes on the verandah, east side. Get him to stack it nicely.”
Arthur went outside and Casey got back to business with Mission Linen, which was playing hardball. After five minutes of negotiating, Mission agreed to make two deliveries a week if Casey signed up for towels. Casey heard the sound of firewood tumbling off the back of a truck. Four cords of dry oak. Then he heard the truck rev up and lumber away. He signed up for towels, just to get off the phone, and hung up. He rushed to the door and looked out on the mountain of wood in the driveway.
Arthur stood with no expression on his face. Casey walked down the steps calmly and said, “They’re coming back, I hope?”
“Nope.”
“They’re supposed to stack this wood. That was in the contract.”
“There was only the one guy,” Arthur said. “He wasn’t into it.”
“Looks like you’ll have to do it, then,” Casey said.
“Tell the truth, Casey, I’m not into it either.” Arthur could be a sourpuss. He was the staff mechanic, and he related well to Honda generators and propane refrigerators and the company truck, but he didn’t handle simple matters well, and he wasn’t all that great with people. “The way I figure it, this is about a twelve, fourteen-hour job. And I’ve already got plenty to do as it is.”
“So,” Casey said. “What? We’re supposed to leave this pile of wood all over the driveway? And if somebody wants to use the driveway for driving? Like somebody wants to go to town, maybe they want to buy a quart of milk or have an appendix removed, and they’re parked behind the hotel and they can’t get out because you’re not into it?”
Arthur shrugged again. “I guess I could clear enough space for somebody to drive past if they wanted a quart of milk. Then maybe if I spent like an hour a day, I could get it stacked on the verandah in a couple of weeks.”
“What if it rains?” Casey asked.
“Wood gets wet.”
“Is it likely to rain?”
“Radio says tomorrow, for sure.”
“So?”
“I guess we’re screwed.”
“You got any more bad news you want to get out of your system?” Casey wanted to know.
Arthur scratched his head and said, “Well, there is one thing. The main reason the delivery guy wasn’t into it.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s go have a look at the east side of the verandah,” Arthur said.
They walked up the steps and around to the side of the hotel, where space all along the building had been cleared to make room for the wood. The cement floor of the verandah was painted dark red, which nicely set off the handsome pattern of the lazy fat four-foot rattler sunning itself in the late-morning heat.
Casey said, “Do you know how to deal with this?”
Arthur said, “It’s pretty dangerous.”
“Then I’ll do it. I’m going to go get a shovel.”
“Dangerous,” Arthur repeated. “The snake’s not dangerous, but Karen will have your ass. She doesn’t allow killing.”
For once Arthur probably wasn’t exaggerating. Casey went to the front of the verandah and picked up an iron rod. He rang the triangle for thirty seconds, the triangle that had only three purposes: dinner, fire, and an emergency meeting.
———
Karen counted the staff assembled in the library. All ten of them had showed up, plus the manager and two owners. You could always count on people to drop work for a meeting. Getting them to shut up and have the meeting once they got together was sometimes a problem, but Casey obviously knew how to handle a crowd.
“Okay,” Casey said. “I want to keep this brief, but I want to start off with a little emotional sharing. How do we all feel about rattlesnakes?”
Some of the staff admitted that they hated snakes, and Nellie said they should be killed on sight. But Karen pointed out that the snakes seldom came near the hotel and they had as much right to Hope Springs as anyone else, including Nellie Hope.
“Including Nick Renner?” Nellie asked.
“Oh be quiet,” Karen snapped. “If we can’t get along with our natural neighbors, then there’s no point in country living,” she said.
“I agree,” Diana said. “I’m sorry, Casey, but we can’t just decide a snake is an enemy, and then kill it. That doesn’t make sense. It’s just fear.”
Casey sighed. “How many feel this way about rattlesnakes?”
Most of the yellows raised their hands. Then the rest of them came around. What a wonderful bunch of people, Karen thought. Kind. Nellie kept her hands in her lap, but what could you expect.
“Okay, then,” Casey said. “We don’t kill rattlesnakes. When it comes to mice, rats, flies, or termites, we’ll probably have to have another meeting, but for now, we don’t kill rattlesnakes. So what are we going to do with the unwanted guest on the verandah?”
“Ye gods!” Nellie cried. “You mean there’s a snake in the hotel?”
“Not in the hotel. On the verandah.”
“Kill it,” Nellie said. “Quick, before it gets away!”
My sister the drama queen, Karen thought. “Nellie, where were you a minute ago? We reached a consensus….”
“Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,” Nellie spat back. “But that was theoretical. This snake is real. And poisonous. And I’m not putting up with it.”
The moment of tense silence was shattered by a shriek from the east side of the hotel. Karen rose to her feet and ran through the lo
bby to the front door. Casey and Diana and Nellie and Arthur joined her on the verandah, and together they rounded the corner to the east side, where the shrieking was repeating, louder and louder.
Clyde the peacock was pecking at the snake, which was now coiled and striking, its tail buzzing loudly. Each time the snake would strike, Clyde would leap back and screech, then fly forward again for a strike of his own. After several lunges, Clyde caught the rattler behind its broad head and dragged it a couple of feet away from the wall before dropping it and jumping back. The snake recoiled. Clyde screeched. The snake struck again at the bird, and the bird once again caught it on the back and dragged it further toward the edge of the verandah. Clyde hopped up onto the verandah railing and screeched again. The snake uncoiled and slithered off the edge of the verandah, dropped three feet into the dust, and took off along the side of the verandah toward the back of the hotel.
Clyde was down on the ground beside it, pecking at its scales, until it built up speed, left the side of the hotel, and took off across the parking lot behind the hotel and disappeared into the woods. Clyde flew to the top of the company truck and screeched.
The entire staff, now gathered on the east side of the verandah, cheered.
Nellie said, “I guess I won’t kill that peacock after all. Only one around here with any sense.”
Casey said, “Great. Now that we’re all gathered together, I’d like everybody to grab a few logs from the driveway and stack them neatly right here. Arthur estimates it’s a twelve to fourteen-hour job, which means maybe ten hours in real time, and there are thirteen of us here, so we’ll finished in no time.”
Karen watched her community get to work. Casey was singing to his crew: “I can only give you logs that last forever.…” Karen and Nellie smiled at each other, nodded, rolled up their sleeves, and joined them. “And a log whose burning light will warm the winter night….”
———
The secret was to have a system. Control it instead of letting it control you. Casey smoked one joint a day, but he kept it to one, and it was always at the same time and it was perfect.
Karen would hand the new-rolled joint to him each day after lunch, and he would take it immediately down to the smoking bridge and light up. That was the longest he owned dope at Hope Springs, a period of about two minutes, each day. Casey was in complete control of his habit.
The smoking bridge was the only place on the entire property where smoking was allowed, except for Karen’s apartment in the hotel and the carriage house, where Nellie made her own rules. For the rest of the staff, including Casey, it was the smoking bridge only, a wooden footbridge that spanned the gurgling stream. There was a bench to sit on while you smoked, and a rusty milk can for throwing away your butts and roaches.
Routine, that was the secret. Casey came here every day after lunch, had his one joint of the day, then went to the bathhouse for his second bath of the day, then took his nap so he’d be straight and fresh for his second shift.
Today Baxter followed him down to the bridge and sat beside him on the bench. Casey crossed his right leg over his left knee, and Baxter crossed his left knee over his right knee. Casey nodded at Baxter and smiled, and Baxter nodded at Casey and smiled back. Casey winked. Baxter winked. Baxter was wearing bathing trunks and a Hawaiian shirt, just like Casey.
Casey lit his joint and took a long, hot, heavy toke, almost choked, almost coughed, held onto it, doubled over, bobbing his head and squinting his eyes, then recovered and looked at Baxter. Baxter was doubled over, bobbing his head. When Baxter recovered, Casey offered him the joint.
Baxter grinned and shook his head and pointed at his crotch. The unmistakable outline of something long, fat, and hard pressed against the bathing suit, obviously aching to be released. Baxter gave Casey a look that said “Ain’t that somethin’?” and pulled the waistband away from his belly. He reached into his trunks and pulled out a long, fat cigar, which he popped into his mouth.
Casey laughed and gave him his Bic. Baxter lit up, exercised his eyebrows, and scowled.
“You look like Groucho,” Casey told him. “On TV.”
Baxter said, “Say da magic woid ana little boid comes down an you win a hunned dollahs.”
Casey took another hit, held his breath, looked again at Baxter, laughed and lost it. Baxter drew on his stogie, looked at Casey, and cracked up.
Dragonflies floated on the still hot air, the still hot air smelled of dope and tobacco blended with sage and chaparral, insects sang in the sage and chaparral, the creek sang, and Casey hummed along, cruisin’ down the river, cruisin’ on a Sunday afternoon. Clouds were building upon the mountaintops to the east.
“You want to know what my job description is, Baxter?” he said. “My job description is to be interrupted. It’s the kind of thing I’m used to. I mean piano players are always getting interrupted, and here, managing a staff of ten people, interruptions are just part of the game, so get used to it, because just think what it’s going to be like when we have guests, for God’s sake. Know what I mean?”
Baxter nodded sagely. “Say da magic woid ana little boid comes down an you win a hunned dollahs,” he sighed, flicking the ash off his cigar.
Casey took a last hit, offered the roach to Baxter, who shook his head. He tossed the roach into the milk can. “It’s a good life, Baxter. Nice people, hard work, pretty place, Diana makes great food…”
“Say da magic woid ana little boid comes down an you win a hunned dollahs.”
“…three hot baths a day, a piano to play in the evenings, Diana sings along, got a great voice, knows all the tunes. I only wish.…”
Baxter cocked his head and waited, opened-mouthed.
Clyde waddled down the path and joined them on the bridge. He hopped up on the rail and stared at Baxter.
Baxter stared back at Clyde. “Say da magic woid ana little boid comes down an you win a hunned dollahs.”
Clyde screeched.
Baxter screeched back.
———
In the late afternoon, shy Bonnie, the shy peahen, would join Clyde for a promenade and picnic on the lawn in front of the bathhouse. She kept to herself, who knows where, most of the day, but during the cocktail hour they were a couple.
Likewise, on the verandah of the hotel, across the driveway, Nellie and Karen Hope, freshly dressed, met each afternoon and settled onto the glider swing for a drink and a chat. Even on days that had gone all sour for them as sisters, the twins met in truce at cocktail hour.
This afternoon they wore wraps about their shoulders. The sky had clouded over, and the air felt cool and moist. “Fall will be over before you know it,” Nellie said. “The new year’s fast approaching.”
“The old year’s cooling off,” Karen agreed. “Looks like we’ll finally get that rain.”
“Karen, I want to make a contribution around here.” Nellie reached into the pocket of her skirt for a cigarette, then remembered it would do her no good. “I still feel like an outsider. All you people in yellow, you’re all so holy and perfect, and I’m just this city person. This gorgeous city person, I must admit, but anyway. God, look at those scrawny birds. I thought peacocks were supposed to have big beautiful tails.”
“You just wait till spring,” Karen told her. “Clyde’ll knock your socks off.”
Nellie loved her sister, and she loved Hope Springs. She felt, sitting in the peaceful late afternoon, that she had perhaps come home. The bathhouse their father had built was one of the warmest and comfiest pieces of architecture in southern California, and now it was hers to be proud of. She looked forward to sharing it with her friends.
“Wait till my friends from Malibu meet our Baxter,” she said. “Sweet Baxter. Did you know when he was a child he was overweight? He hated himself when he was a little boy.”
“Baxter told you this? He actually spoke to you? I mean spoke out loud, not just body language?”
“Baxter’s extremely shy, you know,” Nellie said. “All tha
t clowning’s just an act. He’s quite sensitive. He and I have a very special relationship.”
“Since when?”
“Since last night,” Nellie admitted.
“Baxter has a very special relationship with every woman he’s ever met,” Karen pointed out. “And Casey,” she added. “Your fancy friends will love him. He’s the best thing to happen to this place in a long time. The community was bumping along okay, but we needed a leader if we wanted to turn this place into anything Joley would approve of.”
“Joley.”
“Well, you know what I mean. I just hope Casey will stick around after he’s met our brother.”
“He’ll stick around,” Nellie said. “As long as you keep supplying him with marijuana.”
“You know the real reason he’s here. He’s in love with Diana. He may not realize it yet, but those two were made for each other. And I’ll tell you something else, when those two sing after dinner, this old castle turns to magic.”
“Like it’s bringing back what our parents had,” Nellie agreed. “Just wait till I start bringing in the guests. Bette wants to come; I told her about Baxter. And maybe Barbra. Cher, Goldie, Sweet Lorraine, all the Malibu royalty.”
They were rising from the glider, empty cocktail glasses in their hands, when the darkening afternoon was torn apart by the sound of Nick Renner’s truck, returning full blast. It scraped to a halt at the foot of the steps, and Renner got out.
“If it’s not the Dope Sisters,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be hunting all week. I got my limit, and I’m coming back for more. Hiya doin’ Nellie? Long time no see.”
Nellie wondered what she had ever seen in this scruffy outlaw. But that had been long ago. He was perhaps wondering similar things about her.
Hot Springs Eternal Page 7
