After letting the cool air blow over my face for a few minutes I turned around and headed back to bed. The concerned feeling had left me and all I felt was sleepy.
As I snuggled back between the luxurious sheets, I reminded myself that I was being silly. This was going to be the best weekend I’d had in a long time. I was only being dramatic because I didn’t have a case. I was NOT bored. Just because I usually had a mystery to solve didn’t mean that I couldn’t have a lovely weekend without one. Everything was going to be fine.
Yup.
Instead of waking up softly, I was startled awake by a blaring sound that seemed like it was coming from right outside our room. The birds were chirping and the sunlight was streaming in through the open window, creating an atmosphere that would have been peaceful and sweet if it weren’t for the sound of someone laying on their car horn.
Charlie, Greer, and I all sat up at exactly the same moment, looking at each other in confusion.
“What is that horrible noise?” Charlie gasped.
Greer usually had a hard time waking up in the morning. She didn’t like mornings in general, and she was happiest when she missed them entirely. But this time she jumped out of bed without skipping a beat, stomped over to the open window, snapped the frame shut, pulled the shade, drew the curtain, and plunged the room into darkness.
“Any questions?” she demanded.
When Charlie and I didn’t say a word she stomped back to bed, threw the covers over herself, and did an excellent impression of a lump.
Charlie shrugged. Neither of us was likely to get back to sleep, so we got out of bed and dressed quietly. If the breakfast at this place was anything like the dinner it would be delicious indeed, and maybe I’d even recognize some of the offerings.
“Who was honking, do you suppose?” Charlie asked once we were out of the room.
“Someone feeling entitled,” I said.
It was only eight o’clock, so there weren’t many people in the breakfast room; people enjoying a leisurely weekend don’t get up early. Silver platters arrayed on bright white linen tablecloths greeted us. Trays upon trays of gourmet breakfast fare awaited us at the buffet table, so much food that I didn’t know where to start. Sunlight lit the whole room as we gathered coffee and headed for a corner table. The coffee mugs were small and I was tempted to take two, but I decided not to embarrass Greer or Goldie by being unmannerly.
“Where’s the Witch of Iriswood?” Charlie asked me.
“Her ghost cat said she’s at a spa in France,” I said. “Paws checked.”
“That’s fancy,” said Charlie. “I bet she spends half her free time here, though.”
“Maybe,” I muttered. I couldn’t help but think I’d see her when I answered the Witches’ Council summons at the end of the month, but I really didn’t want to think about that right now, and I was sorry Charlie had brought it up.
Seeing my face, Charlie realized the error of her ways. “Don’t worry about the other witches,” she said, trying to soothe me. “We’re here to enjoy a weekend away, so let’s do it.”
We were halfway through our breakfast when we heard raised voices.
At first the other diners tried to ignore the ruckus, but as the voices got louder we gave in and turned to look.
“I told you never to come back here,” a man yelled.
Simon Simone came striding into the dining room wearing the same black outfit he’d had on the night before. I was getting the idea that he never wore anything but black.
Following close on his heels was a well-dressed man who surely worked at the Country Club. His face was red and he was the one doing the yelling.
“How dare you walk away from me! Simon!” Once he was within full view of the dining room, his voice lowered and his eyes bulged.
The younger man seemed to have no fear of being seen or heard. The ghost of a smile crossed Simon’s face as he turned around and said to the older man, “Don’t want to make a scene, Mason?”
Whatever Mason said in response, no one heard it, so we all leaned closer. Mason, now acutely aware of his audience, shifted uncomfortably while trying to maintain his glare in Simon’s direction.
“Who’s Mason, do you know?” I whispered to Charlie.
“He’s the manager of the Country Club. He’s been here forever,” she whispered back, never taking her eyes off the scene. I had no idea how she knew, but she was, after all, a crack reporter who believed it was her job to know everything.
“You’re just jealous of my success. You never succeeded at playing the violin and I did, and you’ve never forgiven me for it,” said Simon, his voice rising a little louder than was strictly necessary.
Mason sputtered at the injustice of the accusation, but decorum wouldn’t allow him to say anything more. Instead he pointed imperiously toward the door. “Out,” he commanded.
“With pleasure,” said Simon, and he spun around on his perfectly polished black heel and made for the door. Everyone watched except Mason, who also turned, pulled his jacket tighter, and left the dining room through a different door.
For a few seconds no one in the hall moved. Then a door slammed. Then a second door slammed.
Charlie and I exchanged shocked looks.
“Wow,” she said. “I don’t know that Simon will be playing here this weekend after all.”
“It certainly sounds as if Mason doesn’t want him here,” I said, “but does Mason have the right to overrule Goldie?”
Maybe we were about to get an answer to that question, because the excitement wasn’t quite over.
Goldie burst in and walked very fast through the breakfast room, coming from the direction where Mason had gone and heading in the one in which Simon had disappeared. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought she might be crying.
“She doesn’t want him to leave,” I said, feeling for her.
After that there were no more outbreaks and breakfast finished quietly. The hum of conversation quickly returned, and I had nearly forgotten about the early morning scene when I looked out the big window and saw Goldie making toward the Lily Pond.
Yes, we had a view of the ocean, but between that and the Country Club proper was a pond, toward which Goldie was marching with Mason.
Neither of them looked happy, but neither was yelling. They knew they were on display, but even if they could prevent us from hearing them, they couldn’t hide the fact that their conversation was heated. They stood by the Lily Pond for a long time, Mason clearly defending himself, while also, if I was reading the body language correctly, accusing Goldie of bringing Simon onto the property. There was no sign of the musician.
“More coffee?” Charlie asked.
“We should probably stop watching, huh?” I said.
“No way,” said Charlie. “How are we ever going to learn anything if we do that?”
“Maybe if they aren’t going to tell us, we aren’t supposed to know,” I suggested.
“That’s one theory,” Charlie said, but as a reporter she could hardly agree with such a sentiment.
We left the breakfast room shortly after that, Charlie’s curiosity notwithstanding, but we didn’t head back to the room just yet. Charlie went to the business center to check her email, and I went for a walk.
The Country Club had a couple of hundred acres of stunning grounds, and I gave myself the pleasure of wandering around alone for a while. The Lily Pond that Goldie and Mason had been standing in front of was probably the most beautiful spot on the property, and in the end I wandered back there, hoping I could sit in the shade of a tree and enjoy the view in peace. Behind the pond was a stunning view of the ocean, with sparkling waves rolling gently toward shore. All around the pond was perfectly cut grass, and a circle of trees with stone benches under them made a sort of park within a park.
As I approached the pond I saw Eben and Freddie carrying tables, Freddie carrying four with his muscles bulging, Eben barely managing to carry one. Freddie wasn’t struggling at all, whil
e Eben nearly lost his single table and toppled over. Several guests looked at the two employees and shook their heads.
I sat by the pond and enjoyed the unseasonably warm morning. Yes, this was exactly what I needed.
We spent as much of the day as we could sitting around lazily, but we really didn’t have much time to relax. Friday night was the anniversary fundraising dinner, when the fun was really due to start. The dinner wasn’t as important as the next day’s ball, but it was nothing to sneeze at. Friday night was when everyone was supposed to have arrived, and the evening would serve as the official introduction to the rest of the weekend.
All of the Dices would be there, along with many other important weekend guests.
Once Greer woke up we filled her in on the early morning fight we’d witnessed. She was surprised and said so.
“Mason is like a father figure to Goldie. I didn’t know he felt so strongly about Simon,” she said.
“Do you know what their falling out was about?” Charlie asked.
“No idea,” said Greer, shaking her head. “I know Simon has worked here on and off over the years. A musician like him doesn’t always make good money, and this is a great gig for him. He and Goldie have been on and off for years too. She has always loved him, but he has always liked playing the field. Maybe Mason got sick of that.”
“He said he’d already ordered Simon never to come back,” said Charlie.
“If he came for Goldie, that must kind of show how much he cares about her,” I said. “Especially if he was willing to risk making Mason angry.”
“Maybe Goldie will tell me later,” said Greer. “I wish I hadn’t missed it.”
“Except that getting up before noon is unthinkable,” said Charlie with a slight smile.
“You can say that again,” Greer yawned. “My mother called. She says they’re getting here at six and she’ll see us at dinner.”
“When are your brothers getting here?” Charlie asked.
“Not long now,” said Greer with a grin. “I can’t wait.”
Unlike her relationship with her parents, who didn’t understand her, Greer got along famously with her older brothers.
Devin and Derek were twins. They had both gone into finance, the family business. They were well put together and too busy to date, but they loved their baby sister even if she was a bartender.
Goldie’s entire career was riding on tonight’s dinner, the introductory event for tomorrow’s ball. But we weren’t to worry; Goldie was prepared. In fact, she was the most prepared individual in the world. I also had a feeling that she had somehow engineered her body so that it no longer needed sleep, my typical interpretation when a woman not only appeared completely fabulous but managed to be all things to all people.
The anniversary dinner, which doubled as the biggest fundraising night of the year, was important beyond measure, the party to end all parties among the Country Club set. Charlie had muttered something about punk rockers probably not being impressed, but Goldie’s entire career would be capped off if this weekend went well. No one at the Iriswood Country Club cared about punk rockers or their opinions.
Luckily, because Goldie just wouldn’t stand for anything else, the weekend would go well.
Or else.
Dinner was set to be a sumptuous affair. Sumptuous, that is, if we ever got to eat. As a creature of habit, I liked to have dinner around six, which to my way of thinking was a reasonable hour. Charlie was the same way and Greer usually joined us, even though her sleep schedule sometimes made it seem more like she was having a late lunch.
Apparently, Country Club folk were all secretly bartenders in another life. That is, they ate their meals late. Which was why, after we rushed like mad to get to the party on time, we were met with a plate of appetizers, a beautifully set table—and a long wait.
“All the handsome men run together,” said Charlie, glaring toward the left corner of the room.
I followed her gaze. The first person who caught my eye didn’t seem familiar, but he was terribly good-looking, with cut features and dark hair. When I looked more closely I started to realize that there was in fact something familiar about him.
Unable to figure out what it was, I just stared.
The guy next to him turned around and I nearly gasped.
Why I was surprised to see Hansen Gregory at this event I had no idea; maybe it was just because Charlie had been so sure she’d never have gotten to come here without Greer’s invitation.
So how had Hansen gotten onto the guest list?
“How did HE get invited?” Charlie had followed my gaze and immediately spotted Hansen. He hadn’t noticed us yet, but if Charlie kept trying to throw virtual darts with her pretty eyes it would only be a matter of time.
Goldie, who was just popping past, heard the question and said, “He was invited. His family owns the most successful lumber companies here and in Vermont.”
“They what now?” asked Charlie.
“For a reporter, you definitely aren’t very good at investigating,” said a harried-looking Greer. She had just managed to slip away from her family and she was looking irritable as a result.
Any time your family comes to you and says they want to have a fun weekend away together, you should be skeptical, right? At least so long as they really mean together. That was certainly Greer’s theory of family life.
“I shouldn’t have to investigate people in my own profession,” said Charlie. “I just assumed he was a normal person.”
“He is a normal person,” I said.
“Not if he’s here he isn’t,” said Charlie.
She glanced at the long table. The plates were still empty and no food had appeared. She took another nibble of her cheese appetizer.
“We’re here,” I pointed out.
“You’re a witch and Greer and I can see ghosts,” said Charlie. She had a remarkable trick of being able to talk without moving her lip, keeping her voice just low enough that no one around us was likely to hear her.
Just then Hansen turned again. His dark blue eyes scanned the room and passed right over us.
Then they skittered back and his face burst into a happy grin.
Until that moment I hadn’t noticed that he’d had a serious expression on his face, but now that he was looking at us—Charlie, mostly—he switched to looking downright relaxed.
He excused himself from the important-looking man he was speaking with and came over.
“I had no idea you three would be here,” said Hansen with delight.
“We didn’t know you’d be here either,” I said when Charlie decided to take a long sip of her drink rather than answer.
“Come every year,” said Hansen. He was holding a drink in his hand and looking very relaxed. “My parents hate parties, but it’s good for one of the Gregorys to see and be seen.”
“I suppose you rush away and write about it every year,” muttered Charlie.
“Have you ever seen one of those articles by me?” Hansen asked.
Charlie was forced to pause. Of course Hansen didn’t come to events like this and then put something in the paper about them. He was a serious journalist, not a gossip columnist. If he had written a gossip column I’d have been the first in line to read it, but that was my issue, not his.
“If I’d known you three would be here I wouldn’t have been so reluctant to come,” Hansen went on.
“My family is friends with Goldie,” said Greer, again taking up the slack for Charlie’s silence.
“She puts on the best parties. They always have the best food,” said Hansen, looking even happier.
We all nodded.
“It’s been a quiet week newswise, otherwise I’m not sure my editor would have let me attend this year. Mostly he’s just jealous. Are you here all weekend?”
“We sure are,” said Greer. “My family just got here and we’re looking forward to the ball tomorrow. What about you?”
“Yeah, I’m not staying overnight
tonight, though. I have a highway cleanup volunteer commitment tomorrow morning,” said Hansen.
Charlie’s mouth fell open a little. She was about to chide him for being a good person, but luckily she thought better of it. By the end of the night when the tiredness kicked in she probably wouldn’t be able to help herself.
As we talked I caught a glimpse of another familiar face. At the very front of the room, in a cluster of older gentleman puffing cigars, stood Jasper Wolf’s grandfather.
My heart skipped a beat and I started looking around for Jasper. All night I’d been bracing to see the senior Wolf, but every time I did it was still a shock. I still didn’t see Jasper, but hundreds of people thronged the Club, so that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t around. Then again, I had told him I was coming, so wouldn’t he have said something if he intended to be here too?
“Excuse me, but would you like a sample?” While my mind was wandering, Freddie had appeared at my elbow offering a tray of hors d’oeuvres. He was wearing a white jacket with a bit of what looked like chocolate on his sleeve, conjuring a picture of him rushing around a corner in the kitchen with a tray full of food and slamming into another server. He had managed to clean himself up, mostly, and was as good-looking as ever, so much so that the women were all were stealing appreciative glances as he passed, and I wasn’t immune myself.
Flustered at the sudden attention, I declined his offering, but Hansen Gregory, always sharp-eyed, noticed that I was distracted.
“Did you see the board over there?” he said.
“I did,” I said. “I hear they’re doing a major construction project here.”
“Are they ever. From what I hear, they’re going to destroy all kinds of land,” Hansen said, shaking his head. Charlie transferred her glass into the same hand that was clutching her handbag, then did a face palm.
We were just about to start talking about the ball when a scream split the air. All four of us turned to see where the distress was coming from just in time to see a woman come running into the grand dining room.
Witch Way Round (Witch of Mintwood Book 6) Page 7
