by Gina Hummer
Charlotte turned red, hoping he’d forgotten about that particular incident. “That’s not funny. I thought I was by myself.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Like you don’t sing along to the radio when you’re driving.”
“Well, since I don’t really drive all that much, no, not really.”
“What? You don’t drive, or you can’t?”
“I can drive, I just don’t drive often,” David said as he slumped a bit in his seat and drummed on the dashboard with his fingertips. “I have a driver. Traffic makes me bonkers, especially L.A. traffic. Let someone else have the hassle. New York is the best. You can just walk everywhere or hop on the tube or as you would call it, subway.”
Charlotte pondered this for a moment and shook her head. “I love my car. And I love driving. I couldn’t imagine someone driving me around all day.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at how fast you got used to it.”
Charlotte chuckled. “I doubt it.”
The sun had just started to make its descent into the horizon, and the warm afternoon air had cooled a bit. Just then, a cluster of cottage-style cabins came into view. There were a handful of cars parked in a variety of makeshift parking spots out front. Charlotte maneuvered her Jeep into one and turned it off.
“Well,” she said as she gestured toward the cabins. “Here we are.”
“What is this place?” David asked as they got out of the car and he looked around. “Some sort of camp for adults?”
“No,” Charlotte smiled. “Like I said, it’s a retreat. Most of the ladies here may not realize who you are.” She looked over at him as she reached behind her seat to get her bags. “I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
“That would be a nice change of pace.” He ran over to her side. “Let me get the bags for you.”
“How about you take the groceries and your backpack and,” Charlotte picked up her bags. “I’ll take these.”
David grinned. “Deal.”
As she stood in the evening light, watching him sling his backpack over his shoulder and hoist the grocery bags, Charlotte took the opportunity to get a better view of David King. He was even more handsome in person than he was on screen or in any of the tabloids she saw at the supermarket. He had to be at least six feet tall with broad shoulders, and even though his arms were beneath a flannel shirt, she could tell that they were muscular, the kind you could get lost in. A chunk of his dark, unruly hair kept falling into his piercing green eyes, which shone like emeralds.
Stop staring, Charlotte admonished herself as she pulled the cabin keys out of her purse. She headed toward a small cabin that was squeezed in between two much larger cabins. Charlotte shoved the key in the lock and motioned for David to come in. The scent of pine cleaner greeted them and shadows from the fading evening sun cast themselves against the knotted wood floors. David took a look around as he sat the grocery bags and his overstuffed backpack on the small kitchen table.
“Nice place,” he said. “Now what are these ladies going to think about you dropping a veritable stranger down in their midst? You’re sure I’m not intruding?”
Charlotte placed her bags next to the table, deciding to sidestep the question for the time being. David started to take the groceries out of the bags and set them on the table. He inspected the bags of pretzels, cans of potato chips, and assorted boxes of pastries.
“A girl with a healthy appetite, I see.”
Charlotte began to put the groceries away. “I like my sugar and my salt. Sue me.”
“Should I be scared? I’m not walking into a coven of witches, am I?” he asked with a wink.
“No, no. Nothing like that.”
David pulled out a chair and sat down. “So what kind of retreat is this anyway? Are you all doing yoga or something?”
“No. We’re all writers. It’s a writers’ retreat.”
He looked at her, wide-eyed. “Writers? What kind of writers? Oh dear. Don’t tell me you’re screenwriters,” he laughed.
Charlotte felt her heart speed up; his smile took her breath away. She pulled out a bottle of Arizona Iced Tea. “Can I pour you a glass?” she asked as she pondered her answer.
“Please, thank you.” David leaned forward. “What kind of writers are you all?”
Charlotte pulled two tall glasses from the cabinets and filled them with ice. “Well, we all write different things ---- novels, political articles, biographies,” she paused. “One lady writes educational books.” Distress flickered across David’s handsome face. “Don’t worry, David--- none of us write for the tabloids or anything like that.” She handed him a glass.
He exhaled. “Thank God.” He held up his glass to hers. “To new friends,” he said. Charlotte joined her glass with his and they clinked. “Cheers.”
Charlotte gulped her tea, not realizing how thirsty she was. David also drained his in a few quick swigs. They both plunked their empty glasses down at the same time and laughed.
“I guess we were thirsty,” Charlotte said as she resumed putting away her groceries.
“Apparently.” David reached for the bottle and refilled both glasses.
“Before we make our big entrance, there is something else I should probably tell you.” Charlotte paused. “All of the ladies here are either divorced or widowed.” She looked at him for his reaction.
“Divorced or Widowed?” He stammered. “Would you mind explaining?” he asked.
Charlotte leaned against the counter as she twisted her fingers around her long, auburn locks, trying to come up with an easy answer. “One of the ladies owns this property, and several years ago she started bringing colleagues here for a getaway. And she soon realized all of her friends were divorced or widowed. They would spend hours discussing their struggles. She also noticed her divorced friends would end up in one part of the house talking about their problems and her widowed friends would be in another part of the house talking with each other and it just developed from there.”
She finished putting away her groceries and joined David at the table.
“For a long time now, the group’s been gathering here once a year. The widows stay together in one of the large cabins and divorcees in the other. During the day, the two groups meet in their respective cabins to talk about their issues. We also hold book clubs, seminars---- that kind of thing. But at dinner time we all come together in the large dining cabin in the back. We all eat together and talk about our projects or play cards.” Charlotte shrugged. “There really is no set plan. It’s just fun.”
“Fascinating.” David leaned forward and looked at her. “So, why do you have your own cabin?”
Charlotte threaded her fingers together and looked down at the table. She let out a sigh. “I belong in both groups. Sort of.”
David frowned. “Oh. Both?” he raised an eyebrow. “Why both?” he asked gently.
Charlotte took another sip of iced tea. “I’d been separated for about two years before my husband was killed in a car accident, so the ladies put me in the ‘both’ category. I’m the only one with this particular situation, so I chose to stay in the small cabin. I spend time with both groups, but my main job is to make all of the arrangements for us before everyone else gets here.” Charlotte leaned back against her chair. “I usually come up here early and make sure the cabins are ready, clean, stocked--- that kind of thing. I had to run back to L.A. for some meetings, so this is my second trip up here in as many days. I help with the travel arrangements…. pick up prescriptions.” She took a deep breath and released it. “I am the youngest woman here, so doing all the leg-work is easier for me.” Charlotte shook the ice in her glass. “I’ve been doing this for about three years now, and I really love it. I’ve learned so much from these ladies.” Charlotte finished her tea. “They’re like family to me.”
He was silent for a moment as he drank his tea. “Which group do you talk with more?”
“Divorcees,” she said matter-of-factly.
He finished his drink as though he was unsure of w
hat to say next. “Are you sure it’s okay that I stay here? This being a no-man zone and all,” he said to lighten the mood.
“No,” she said bluntly. “They’re going to kick my ass.”
David’s jaw dropped a bit. “You’re serious?” Charlotte shrugged her shoulders and cocked her head to the side to indicate a beat-down was a distinct possibility.
David rubbed his hand across his chin, concern crinkling around his eyes. “Maybe I should leave; I don’t want to get you in trouble with your friends.”
“Oh, the ladies may bark at first, but I’ll just explain to them what happened. I ’m sure they’ll understand,” Charlotte scoffed, trying to convince them both. She glanced at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. “They should all be in the dining cabin getting ready for dinner.” Charlotte stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Maybe you should go and talk to them first; warm them up a bit, and then introduce me.” David suggested.
“I don’t think so. Better to just take the bull by the horns.” She held up her index finger, a thought occurring to her. “You know, I do remember two years back one of the girls brought a friend with her who was in remission from cancer.” Charlotte grabbed her keys and started to walk toward the door. She was about to open it when David placed a hand on her arm and reached around to open it for her. Charlotte caught a whiff of him and closed her eyes, reveling at the woodsy scent. “Wow,” she mouthed out of his eyesight. They stepped outside, and she continued her train of thought. “They were okay with that, and she wasn’t a writer, and she had never been married.” She placed her finger on the corner of her mouth. “She didn’t have a penis, though,” she said with a sly grin.
“Well, if they don’t like me, it’s bloody likely I may not have a penis as well!” he quipped.
CHAPTER 2
No one noticed when Charlotte and David opened the door to the dining cabin. Charlotte could hear bits and pieces of multiple conversations throughout the room, but no one stood up and yelled out “Traitor!” because she’d brought a man into the mix. There were eight women in the room, ranging in age from late forties to late seventies. They all struck the delicate balance of looking both intellectual and attractive; there were a fair amount of simple black turtlenecks paired with blue jeans or slim black pants; casual French twists and short, sensible haircuts; bright red lipstick and no-nonsense black-rimmed glasses that were well suited to angular faces with brows furrowed deep in thought.
One of the women, Karen, spotted Charlotte and shot her hand up in the air to signal for her to come over. Now in her late forties, Karen had modeled when she was younger to pay for college; much like Charlotte, she had retained her current looks with scant effort. She kept her bone- straight, shiny black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and wore a multicolored poncho over a pair of jeans, her librarian’s glasses perched on the edge of her pert nose. Karen’s half-moon silver pendant and amethyst crystal earrings flashed in the fading sunlight that streamed in from the room’s windows. Rows of silver rings lined her fingers, filled with a variety of stones and crystals, each with a different celestial meaning. Charlotte braced herself for what she knew would be Karen’s blunt reaction to David. Karen, who was never shy about sharing her opinions stood up as Charlotte got closer and smiled. Her eyes got larger as she focused on the male intruder.
“Charlotte! What the hell?” she blurted out. The room fell silent at Karen’s outburst.
All eyes turned in the direction of Karen’s fury, and several of the women let out small gasps. Karen stood with her hands on her hips, irritated.
“Uh, hello--- did I miss the memo where is says men are allowed to crash our tea party?” Karen said.
Charlotte started to speak. “Well, no, see ----”
“I mean… come on Charlotte; this is supposed to be girl time.” Karen continued as though Charlotte hadn’t spoken. “What are you up to?”
Charlotte tried again when Hendra, the leader of the group by virtue of the fact that she owned the cabins, stood tall and imposing, every inch of her six- foot frame filling the room. The voluminous waves of her long white hair fanned around her head like a crown. Hendra drew her slender shoulders up and stared Charlotte and David down like a disgruntled queen addressing naughty subjects.
Charlotte steeled herself as she looked from woman to woman and began to speak. “Hendra, ladies, please let me explain…This is --”
“Charlotte?” Hendra held up her hand like a cop stopping traffic. “Why in the world would you bring a man here?” she said, her tone stern. She motioned toward David. “And David King of all people? We don’t want any Hollywood types here.”
Charlotte gasped, surprised and amused that Hendra knew who he was. Hendra rolled her eyes at Charlotte.
“Oh, don’t look at me that way. I know who he is. His poster is plastered all over my granddaughter’s wall,” she said, disgust punching her words. “He’s some sort of teen idol person.”
Horror flashed across David’s face and he cleared his throat. “Um, ma’am? I am an actor, not a teen idol,” he started before Hendra cut him off with her traffic move.
“Whatever,” Hendra snapped. “What are you doing here young man?”
“Well, it’s really a very funny story,” Charlotte interjected. “See, I was in town, getting a skinny latte – you all know how much I love my lattes -- and I came outside and there was this mob scene of people looking for David and I hopped in my car to come up here and wouldn’t you know, David had jumped in my backseat to escape which made me run off the road and I almost maced him and now he needs a place to stay because everyone knows the inn he was going to be staying at and then they’d be hounding him for pictures and autographs and the like, so I told him he could stay here and hide.” Charlotte spilled the story with nary a breath and punctuated her retelling with a lot of wild gestures, hoping some dramatic flair would gain a little sympathy for David. Judging by the grins and giggles it was working.
“He really needs to get away for a bit and just…be.” Charlotte continued. “I would’ve asked you ladies first, but it was an emergency. Anyway, I thought he could just hide here for a while, if it’s okay.”
Charlotte smiled at the group, as did David; it was his only defense now. Hendra turned her back to David and Charlotte, her shoulders softening, and faced the group of women.
“Anyone have an issue?” she asked, her voice low.
Some of the women replied no; others shook their heads. Hendra turned to face Charlotte, her shoulders back on point.
“Where will he stay?” she asked.
Charlotte paused for a moment. “Well, my cabin has a spare room; it should be okay for him.”
David nodded and took a small step forward to cash in on the positive momentum.
“Ladies, I promise I will not intrude on your time here. I will probably sleep most of the time anyway. As Charlotte said, I just need to hide for a bit. She’s told me you are all people of integrity, and I can see that you are.” David flashed his impish grin at the crowd. “I would really appreciate this favor.”
His smooth and sexy voice, dripping in British charm to boot, draped itself over the women, lulling them into unconscious swoons; most of the women had already fallen under his spell without even knowing it.
“Wasn’t he voted ‘Most Sexy’ a few years back?” one of the women whispered to Karen, who scoffed, still annoyed. “How old do you think he is?”
David overheard and tried not to laugh. “Yes I was, and I’m thirty.”
The whisperer, embarrassed at having been heard, turned her attention to the table in front of her.
The entire room began to fill with not-so-hushed whispers, which annoyed Hendra.
“Make him do all the dishes,” Karen piped in. “At least he’ll be useful,” she shrugged.
Hendra gave David a curt nod. “Agreed. You will have kitchen and cleaning duties just like the rest of us; just don’t get in o
ur way. None of us will let anyone know you’re here.” She pivoted on her heel and headed toward the kitchen. “I’m bored with this conversation now, so let’s eat.”
The ladies followed suit while David and Charlotte brought up the rear.
David leaned down to Charlotte’s ear. “Thank you, Charlotte.” he whispered.
Charlotte smiled. “Like I said---the least I could do for almost macing you.”
#
The dining area was a long, rectangular room with a single table that stretched from end to end. Dinner was served buffet style and usually featured a theme of some sort; tonight’s was Italian. The table was brimming with heaping bowls of spaghetti and meatballs, antipasti salad laden with ruby red tomatoes, fat, juicy black olives, and thick slabs of creamy buffalo mozzarella cheese, and a basket of crusty, buttery garlic bread that snapped and melted when you bit into it. Assorted bottles of red and white wine stood guard at the end of the table, and each woman took turns filling her glass. As the women loaded their plates, they took their seats and dug in. Charlotte helped Emma with her plate and made sure she made it to her seat safely. At seventy-eight, Emma was the oldest in the group. She recently had her hip replaced and suffered daily with severe arthritis but her pain never showed through her bubbly personality and quick wit. Charlotte then filled her own plate before she joined David, who’d already inhaled half his spaghetti.
Charlotte ribbed him. “Hungry much?” she said in a low voice.
“This is the worst food I’ve ever eaten. Don’t tell the cook,” David said as he popped a bite of bread into his mouth.
As they continued to eat, the woman directly across from David decided to break the ice.
“My name’s Angela,” a brunette with olive skin and a swan-like neck spoke up as she gave him a nod. “We all know just about everything about each other, but all we know about you is what we see on the covers of the rag sheets at the grocery checkout.” Angela munched on an olive. “And we all know those are full of crap.”
The women all laughed as Charlotte explained. “Angela’s ex is managing editor for the ‘Tattler’.
