Lethally Green

by Amber Boffin

  Maggie looked away, feigning a sulk, hoping her special pout would have the effect it used to, providing the little nudge Amy required when she was about to agree with her but hesitated.

  Amy put her mug down and picked the dress from the back of the chair, holding it up to take a close look at it. She then looked at Maggie’s blouse, smiling. “I see you still like your flowers… All right then. Stop sulking! Because it’s—”

  Before she could finish, Maggie jumped to her feet, looking at the clock on the wall. “Hurry, we have to go. We’ll be late otherwise!”

  After what seemed like fifteen minutes of chaos, with pieces of clothing being tossed in the air as Maggie searched for her favourite blue fedora and shouts coming from the bathroom from Amy, complaining that she couldn’t get her hair under control, the pair stood in front of the entrance door. With one glance at each other, in unison they rushed out of the house to the car. They drove in silence to the Millers’ house, Moose Lodge, where the bride, Catherine, would be getting ready.

  The Millers lived at the end of Lake View Road in one of the cabins only slightly bigger than the guest cabins scattered around the property. A few metres away from their home, on a little peninsula, stood the octagonal old log building built in the forties. Its popularity had never decreased since the 1900s, when it was a stopover for the wooden steamboat that travelled along the chain of lakes bringing the first cottage tourists to the region. The Millers kept up the tradition and not only ran a restaurant, together with the children’s camp, but in summer they also operated a boat service picking up guests at Foxton harbour on Perch Lake, sailing up via King Fisher Narrows to Deep Lake and Otter Lake, with a stopover at the lodge for lunch or dinner then back to Foxton. In winter, the locals regularly gathered around the central large stone fireplace of the hexagonal building for dinner, having reached the lodge via snowmobile over the frozen lakes.

  Maggie and Amy walked around the premises, looking for a sign of life. The hexagonal log building had been decorated with white ribbons, blowing in the wind. Peering inside, they could see the tables all decked out with red rose petals and the chairs clad with white covers and large red bows. The tables appeared to revolve around the prominent central stone fireplace that rose up to the ceiling, each with a view of Otter Lake or Deep Lake. Maggie turned to Amy.

  “We’re in the right place. You see the fireplace in the middle? You won’t be cold tonight.”

  “Yes, it looks cozy.”

  Finding the door of the lodge locked, fear that she was supposed to meet the bride at her home gripped Maggie. She scanned the cabin for a sign of life. A silhouette in white moved in front of the window.

  “That must be Catherine. Let’s go, quick, the sun is rising and I want to get a picture of her in the nice light.”

  “Yes, boss…” replied Amy with a grin while struggling with a reflective umbrella.

  Maggie knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked again and opened it.

  “Hello! It’s Maggie the photographer. Can I come in?”

  Ms. Miller sprang out from behind the door and ushered them into the cabin, directing them to the bedroom. Laden with her bag, her large camera already out and ready to shoot, Maggie walked into a wooden room. There in the middle stood Catherine in a 1930s-style white dress, fiddling with a headband of white beads. The bride’s hand trembled as she fitted her headdress.

  Maggie glanced toward Amy and with a nod told her to help the bride with it. Her friend would know how to handle a stressed bride and provide the perfect finishing touches to the hairstyle, while she could start taking pictures so Catherine would get used to the camera.

  “You look beautiful, Catherine! My assistant, Amy, is very good with hair. She can help you with your headdress if you like.”

  Catherine dropped her arms, letting the band slip to her feet, loose white beads bouncing on the floor around her. At the sight, Ms. Miller swung her arms up in the air then clasped her hands together in a prayer position.

  “If you can help her, my dear, that would be so nice… I can’t seem to do anything right this morning.” Ms. Miller faced Maggie and Amy with a look of desperation in her eyes, soon replaced by a little twinkle. “I’m so glad you could make it. Maggie and…?”

  “Amy. She’ll help me with the lighting and set up for the pictures.” Turning to the bride, Maggie said, “I really like your dress. I love the thirties.”

  “Thanks,” muttered Catherine sulkily.

  “Do you have a preference for the type of pictures you want?”

  “I had, but what’s the point now? I guess I’ve got no choice now but to work with you. I want portraits and action pictures and…”

  Catherine let herself drop down into a chair in front of a dressing table, looking at Maggie via the mirror. In a defeated tone, she added, “Whatever… My headband is broken, my photographer fell ill, they’re forecasting rain for today… Nothing can get worse, I guess.”

  “Honey, don’t worry, it’ll be a beautiful day!” exclaimed Ms. Miller.

  Amy had meanwhile picked up the band and already mended it. She walked behind the bride, carefully adjusting it to fit on Catherine’s forehead.

  “Look, you see, Amy fixed it. You look so pretty that it’ll be easy for me to make great portraits. It’s a happy day. Just relax. Look over there…the sun is rising,” Maggie said with enthusiasm.

  Catherine’s face glowed under a sunray gently hitting her cheek, a small smile curling the corners of her lips.

  “Yes, that’s it, stay there, look at it, beautiful profile!” Maggie snapped a few pictures and quickly showed them on the camera viewer to Catherine to check if it was the type she liked. The bride’s shoulders slid down, releasing the tension as she studied of her newly styled hair in the mirror. She smiled, and touched a perfectly formed curl sculpted against her temple.

  “This looks great, thanks so much. How did you do those curls on the side? Wow! I feel better now.”

  “It’s easy to do, just a bit of gel, and with your hair it’s really nothing. If I may, I’d add a little blush there and some eyeliner…” replied Amy.

  Amy’s magic seemed to work. She could soothe any anxious mind when it came to styling.

  Suddenly Catherine turned to face Maggie. “Thank you for bringing Amy.” She swivelled back and gently applied blush on her cheeks as she went on, “I like the pics you just took. I’m ready for the others you have in mind. Let’s go out and do it!”

  All four started laughing as Catherine stood up energetically, and pirouetted around the room grabbing her mother by the waist. The tension finally released. The atmosphere was further improved when Matt arrived for the pictures, leading to a series of shots in front of the lake with a laughing bride and groom dancing the Charleston. The morning went by in a wink of an eye with a brief civil ceremony with only family members, then on to the afternoon church ceremony.

  In the spur of the action and highly focused on her photography, Maggie had obliterated her own excitement and apprehension at meeting old friends until she was standing in the corner up in the pulpit of the Foxton church, looking down at the rows of pews filled with colourful hats. The reverend had let her climb into his pulpit to get a special shot of the assembly.

  Maggie blushed when she saw the crowd, feeling a little shy. As she positioned herself for a better view, her hat popped off her head and fell down straight into the arms of Reverend John Smithers. All eyes were suddenly on her, causing her to check her unruly curls with one hand.

  Fortunately, Reverend John Smithers was a jolly fellow and a good improviser.

  “How exciting, a special blessing from God for our wedding today. We never know how He might express himself next.”

  A roar of laughter shook the hats like a wave as he threw the blue fedora back up to Maggie. She was just on time to snap a picture of all heads looking up at her with broad smiles.

  Only the close family and friends had been invited to the church ceremony; the r
est of the village was expected to join for the buffet reception at the Moose Lodge in the evening. The church ceremony ended with a group picture on its steps. Maggie popped her head to the side of the camera and grinned, opening her eyes wide, to the surprise of the crowd, who instantaneously smiled, and there it was: the photo she was after.

  Maggie rushed toward the group, her hands out, shouting, “Stop, stay there!”

  Wondering what was happening, they froze on the spot as loud clippety-clops grew in intensity until a carriage drawn by two elegant draft horses, their blond manes neatly braided with white ribbons, appeared at the corner of the road. This was Matt’s surprise for his bride. Maggie had known Catherine liked horses from her comment on her portrait of a Friesian horse. The impression was confirmed when Catherine leaped into Matt’s arms with a squeal as Matt announced with a smile from ear to ear, “Meet Pea and Pod, your new friends, my love.”

  Matt lifted his bride into the carriage as Maggie ran around it to capture the moment. Maggie called out, “Look over here, a picture of you both framed by the horses’ heads, yes, that’s it, great!”

  Meanwhile, Amy spent her time trying to keep up with Maggie as if she were her shadow, ready to hand her a lens and at all times trying to keep out of the photographs. As soon as the carriage set off, the guests, eager to take part in the traditional procession, raced to their cars.

  Maggie rearranged her curls under her fedora. “I think I’ve nailed it. And I’ve got to say, you’re a great assistant.”

  “Phew, I need a rest now. Don’t tell me you’ll be running around like that at the party. Look, he seems angry,” whispered Amy into her ear.

  The man marched toward them, his fists clenched by his sides as if he were preparing for a fight. Amy and Maggie took a step back as he approached.

  “Hi, my car won’t start, the wife is ticked off—late, we’ll be late, she says. I need help…yous have a car?”

  Maggie looked toward where he was waving his hand at a white van with a sign on the side:Joe Johnson Septic & Plumbing, always there when you need.

  Maggie replied, “Hi, Joe Johnson, is that correct?”

  The man nodded. “Call me Joe.”

  “I’m Maggie, and this is Amy. Your wife’s in the car over there? Well, the blue truck is mine. Why don’t you come with us, and you can deal with your car later. We’re going to the lodge now.”

  Joe gestured to his wife to come along. “You’ve saved my day! She may look nice, but when she gets started.”

  Maggie nudged her head towards the pair to signal to Amy. She lifted the corner of her mouth and raised an eyebrow as she climbed into her truck. Amy twisted her neck to get a better view of them. “Going to the party?”

  Maggie nodded. A pretty brunette with narrow, rectangular glasses sitting on a small nose perfectly positioned between smooth cheeks stood next to the driver’s side.What a symmetrical face—a doll face, thought Maggie.

  “Thank you so much. I’m the bride’s cousin and promised to help her with her evening gown, so you see I can’t be late. You’re the photographer?” As she spoke she climbed into the back seat with her husband.

  Maggie replied, “Yes, I’m Maggie and she’s Amy. And you…?”

  “Oh, Heather, sorry.”

  “I haven’t seen you around, Maggie. Or Amy for that matter.”

  “I’ve just moved back from London, UK, but I was born here in Foxton. And Amy is from Toronto, just up for a visit.”

  Heather’s tense features loosened as Maggie mentioned Amy lived in Toronto; perhaps she had considered Amy a threat. She was taken aback a little by Heather’s next comment. “So you’re back for your kids? Much better here than in a city to bring them up.”

  “No, no kids.”

  “Oh,” replied Heather. After an awkward silence, she added, “You must need to learn how to relax, then, after living in the city. I teach a yoga class and—”

  “Heather, no yoga talk, please… She can go on for hours about it,” interrupted Joe, rolling his eyes.

  “Come on, Joe, maybe she wants to join,” insisted Heather nodding toward Maggie in the rear-view mirror.

  Although Maggie didn’t see herself performing any yoga moves, hating all forms of stretching, she didn’t want to put her off. “I might.”

  Before Maggie could ask Heather where she was from, Heather said, “It won’t be easy to make a living as a photographer here, not like in London…there was one that closed a year ago.”

  Amy’s right eyebrow lifted, together with the right corner of her mouth. Maggie certainly didn’t want Amy to get irritated as well; she would have to hide her own feelings. She wanted to be accepted in the village and was likely to meet Heather again. Perhaps Heather was just one of those people who spoke their minds without consideration of how the message might be received. And Heather made a valid point. She had to speak quickly before Amy launched a counterattack.

  Joe came to the rescue. “Heather! Ignore her. He was no good, and no one liked his blurry pictures.”

  “It’s all right, I know it won’t be easy, but that’s fine, and in London I was a biologist.”

  “Oh…what does that mean?” asked Heather.

  Before Maggie could reply, Amy shifted her shoulders toward Heather to face her. “She discovered a new antibiotic and had her own company. But I can tell you she’s also a brilliant photographer.”

  “Come on, Amy, don’t exaggerate. I just worked at a biotech company. And I was lucky with my research, that’s all.” Maggie felt annoyed with Amy. Although she knew her friend meant well, Maggie wasn’t the boasting type. She wanted a new deal, and her past seemed irrelevant for her current life.

  “Wow, that’s amazing…but then what made you come back?” said Heather.

  “After the death of my parents, I questioned my life and how I was living. It made me realize that I wanted to try out my dream of becoming a photographer. I was homesick, and I missed all this beautiful nature.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a change of life,” sighed Joe. “I’d go live on an island in the sun far away from the winter…”

  “Nonsense, you’d get sunburned in no time with your pale skin,” snapped Heather.

  Joe grumbled a reply that didn’t reach Maggie’s ears. Heather was silent for a moment as if she were thinking, then asked, “You’re right about one thing, Foxton is the best place to be.”

  Suddenly aware of the silence in the car, Maggie said, “I noticed from your sticker on your van that you’re a plumber. I have to do some renovations to winterize the house and also update the kitchen.”

  Heather smiled broadly, grabbing Joe by the arm as she spoke. “You have your man, but he’s not only a plumber—he knows everyone around. Tell her, Joe.”

  Joe seemed to take up more space in the back as he poured onto Maggie a sea of names, all close friends in the building trade he would gladly arrange for her. He jumped on her interest in solar-powered water heating systems she had mentioned only out of curiosity, seeing he had a sticker advertising it on his car. Joe claimed he could get his friend and reputed installer Leon LeBreton to give her a good deal. He told her how things had gone horribly wrong with another plumber from the nearby village of Greentown and how not to do the installation, thereby attempting to shine in contrast.

  As they drove along Deep Lake, one of the series of the chain of lakes toward Otter Lake and Moose Lodge, they caught a glimpse of the tail end of the wedding procession. Maggie attempted to accelerate to catch up with them, thinking Heather would appreciate it, when she was stopped short by a loud shout from Joe.

  “Stop!”

  The car ground to a halt. Maggie looked for a deer or other animal that must have triggered Joe’s reaction. Her heart was still beating, no animal to be seen; only a large hand, index finger pointing to her side window appeared in front of her face.

  “Look! I did the solar installation, well, Leon helped. Behind the pine tree, see that humongous cottage…”

&nb
sp; Big, yes, but for a family and many friends,thought Maggie, looking at the cottage,really only a normal two-storey home…with a roof covered in solar panels.

  Heather added, “You know, it’s the electric utility director’s cottage. Lots of money, our money…with these crazy electricity bills, that’s where it all goes.”

  “Heather, don’t start.”

  “He’s really not handy; he can’t even use a chainsaw to cut his tree, and he asked my Joe to do it for him. You should show it to her so that she sees your work.”

  Keen to avoid any delay and not feeling in the mood of more building work conversations, Maggie changed the topic, having accepted their offer of a visit.

  “Do you know if Denis Partridge, the dentist, will be attending?”

  Amy sat up in her chair as if she had been asleep the rest of the time but was now all ears.

  “Do you mean Tina’s hubby? I should think so; she’ll be there, so he should be there too,” replied Heather.

  The name “Tina” rang a bell, but Maggie couldn’t place it. For some reason it made her uncomfortable. “Tina?”

  “Yes, the journalist. She takes my yoga classes. I think you should too…”

  Maggie’s uneasiness grew. Could it be the dreaded Tina from her school days, jealous of her relationship with Denis? Could he have married her? That seemed impossible.

  As they pulled up at the lodge, all cars from the church gathering were parked with guests trickling in from the village. Maggie sighed.It’s just a coincidence, I’m sure it’ll be another Tina… I hope…

  Chapter Four

  The hexagonal log building was lit by lanterns dangling in the wind. The fire in the centre of the room roared and colourful outfits slowly moved around it, as if they were compelled to circle it like on a merry-go-round.

  Her job taking portraits allowed Maggie to observe the guests without appearing rude. When walking around to see if Amy had arrived, Maggie came face-to-face with a tall thin woman. She had a yellow poodle hairstyle, a strict beige suit with the skirt well below the knee, low black pumps, and a large white bow on her blouse as her only eccentricity. That must be Aunt Maaike. She matches the description Catherine gave me.