by Gayle Roper
He handed it over and began working on his plateful of food. “But what about you? Now both your hands are tied up.”
“It’ll take you about ten seconds to eat that food. Then you can put your teacup and saucer on top of the empty plate.”
It was more like a minute and a half before all the dainty tea food disappeared from Dan’s plate and he took his cup and saucer back. Cass gave him full marks for sipping his tea instead of swallowing it in a couple of gulps like the brothers would have done. When he finished, he waited patiently in the chair that was really too small for his bulk while she took her time savoring the experience.
After tea they wandered hand in hand through Cape May, peering into shop windows until closing time, looking at all the beautiful Victorian mansions for which the town was famous, and walking on the beach in the early evening darkness.
“Surf’s high,” Dan said as the wind ruffled their hair. “You can hear it.”
“Rodney’s almost here. If it keeps coming up the Chesapeake Bay like it is, the tides won’t be as high as if it were hitting from the sea. We’ll still have lots of rain but much less flooding.”
“I’ve never heard of a hurricane following a path like this one. Inland in Virginia, up the Bay.”
“Usually once a hurricane makes landfall, it blows itself out,” Cass said. “But coming up the Chesapeake seems to be keeping this one strong. All that open space and water, I guess. The question becomes will it keep traveling north and smash Pennsylvania, or will it curl east back toward the Atlantic.”
“And you have no prognostication?”
She shook her head as she watched the moon disappear behind dark clouds. A soft drizzle began to fall, blown in their faces by the ever-increasing wind. Cass pulled her Indiana Jones hat from her pocket and put it on.
Dan grinned at her hat. “I like.”
I like too, she thought. Oh, how I like.
They enjoyed dinner in a lovely little candlelit restaurant that Cass thought was the most romantic place in which she had ever eaten. Of course, the handsome man seated across from her might have had more to do with the ambience than the candles. As she stared at him as he studied the menu, she felt incandescent, lit from within. She suspected her joy glowed on her face since she couldn’t stop smiling.
Dan glanced up, his nose wrinkling. “Cass, do you smell something burning?”
She blinked. “Umm?”
“Burning.” He gulped and pointed. “Your menu!”
Cass stared in horror at the little flames eating away at the edges of her oversize bill of fare. While she had been staring at Dan, the heavy paper had dipped to rest against one of the candles on their table, eventually igniting. She dropped the menu onto the table and began squashing the flames with her napkin. Dan reached over and helped. The small blaze was extinguished in seconds, but it left Cass’s menu looking like a replica of an old document whose edges were singed and darkened by time.
When she handed it back to the waiter after placing her order, she smiled sweetly, acting like nothing was amiss. After a momentary facial tic at the sight of the burnt paper, so did the waiter. Cass and Dan were still laughing when their salads arrived.
Dan broke off a piece of roll and buttered it. “I’ll be driving to Philadelphia on Monday to meet with Adam Streeter of Go and Tell International.”
Cass nodded. “It’s so wonderful how you’re helping him.” She took a bite of her crab cakes. “How long will you be gone?”
He speared a piece of his filet mignon. “I’ll probably spend two days with Adam. Then I thought I’d run up to New York to see how things are going at home.”
Home. He was going home. What if he got there and decided to stay? Cass felt her glow dim dramatically. She busied herself with her food so he wouldn’t see her face.
“I should be back on Thursday in time for dinner.”
He was coming back! Surely she could live four days without him. She’d already managed forty years. She probably glowed again. He was coming back. She decided to celebrate by having crème brûlée for dessert.
After dinner they walked some more, Dan’s arm slung over her shoulders, an oversize umbrella hovering protectively over their heads. The wind from the approaching storm picked up some, causing Dan to struggle for control of the umbrella and the drizzle to intensify into a light rain. They paused to watch a shopkeeper taking down the sign that normally swung over his door and admired the plywood he’d nailed across his plate glass windows. Chilled, yet exhilarated by the strong weather, they returned to Russell House to sit in the living room and talk quietly together when they weren’t watching the Weather Channel with the rest of the guests.
“It’s going to get us,” Cass said as the set was flicked off after the third rerun of the same information. “It’ll be from our backside, but it’ll get us.”
“As if being with you wouldn’t be enough to make tomorrow interesting,” Dan whispered in her ear as they went upstairs to their rooms.
As she got ready for bed, Cass mentally reviewed the precautions already taken at SeaSong to prepare for the storm. Everything outside had been put away: the swing that hung on the front porch, the flag that flew on the front lawn, even the SeaSong sign itself. Extra water had been drawn, filling three twenty-five-gallon containers; flashlights were ready in every room with fresh batteries in each one and extra batteries beside them; and the pantry held a more-than-adequate supply of nonperishable food and drink to feed the expected guests. All her important documents were in a waterproof pouch in the third floor linen closet just in case.
Given all the buildings between SeaSong and the sea, it would take a mighty tidal surge to even reach the house, let alone reach the third floor. All her preparation was more in case of wind damage causing breakage, downed wires, and loss of electricity. Flooding was always a slight possibility, but SeaSong was built up on pilings elegantly enclosed by latticework.
Wearing her heavy socks and her navy cardigan as a bed jacket over her polished cotton gown, a Lands’ End special that she often took on trips because she hated to lug a bathrobe along, she walked to one of the two antique sleigh beds in the room. She ran her hands over the beautiful white on white duvet cover, patches of lace, narrow satin ribbon, and eyelet rippling beneath her fingers and palm. She counted eight pillows propped against the headboard, all with crispy white cotton cases trimmed with more lace and eyelet, each case unique. Her favorites were the ones that looked like fabric envelopes with the eyelet flaps embroidered with seed pearls and delicate satin ribbons and with satin loops that fitted around covered buttons to hold the flaps in place and the pillows inside.
The Russell House might not have room to set down your teacups, but it was beautifully appointed. In fact, it was almost as lovely as SeaSong. Cass grinned. Almost.
Reminder: No need to feel threatened.
She pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed. She sank into a feather mattress that rested on top of the real mattress. Plush and luxurious, provided you weren’t allergic to feathers. Had anyone asked her about allergies? She didn’t think so. Fortunately, it wasn’t a problem for her. Still, it was a question that should be asked. SeaSong would ask it.
Feeling slightly superior, she plumped the two biggest pillows against the headboard so she could lean on them while she read for a while. The selection of books available all over Russell House made her mouth water, and she’d brought three to the room with her. She pushed herself up against the headboard, trying to decide which of the three resting on her night table she would read.
The bed shifted under her, and she gave a little scream as she fell.
I broke the bed! The Patchetts didn’t, but I did!
She jolted to a halt without slamming to the floor. She stared wide-eyed at nothing, trying to assess what had just happened. Well, maybe she hadn’t actually broken the bed. Rather she’d just bent it. And it had certainly bent her. She found herself wedged tightly, her back still flush against t
he headboard, and her feet, rather than resting in front of her making a comfortable L as she bent at the hips, were above her head. The mattress had somehow dipped beneath her bottom and flipped almost upright at her feet, trapping her in a deep V position.
Thank goodness no one was here to see how ridiculous she looked, no one meaning especially Dan. She put her hands down on either side of her hips to push herself free, but there was nothing to put her hands on. The mattress that should have been beneath her was pointing one end to the floor while the rest reared up in front of her, pointing to the ceiling.
Box spring, she thought. I can push on that.
However, when she managed to peer over her shoulder and look down—no easy feat wedged as tightly as she was—all she saw were black shadows. No box spring. In a flash she realized what had happened. The antique bed was still using wooden slats to support its mattress just as it had for untold years. These supports ran under the mattress from side to side at intervals up the length of the bed. Unfortunately for her, there was no support slat at the head of the bed. When people lay down to go to sleep, there was no need for a support at the head. Not enough weight rested on that area to cause any problems. But if you leaned against the headboard with no wooden slats beneath you, down you went and up flipped the mattress.
Am I the only one who has ever read in this bed? Cass stared in amazement at her elevated feet, clad in their heavy socks. There was only one explanation. This was a new bed, at least to Russell House.
They’re trying to impress me. Not!
She felt both laughter and panic bubbling up. How was she to get out of this position before the chambermaid came in to clean tomorrow morning and found her making like a turkey’s wishbone? If she didn’t figure out something, she would be stuck all night with her knees in her chin and her bottom nearly on the floor. She wiggled and squirmed and wiggled and squirmed and only succeeded in wedging herself more tightly. As the minutes ticked by, her crab cakes began to complain about the pressure on her stomach, and her lower back began reminding her that at forty she was no longer as supple as she used to be. At least the pillows protected her backbone from the headboard.
She noticed a large bruise on her right shin, which hovered less than two feet from her face. She probably got it last night in her scramble to escape the smoke. She rubbed it absently as she considered her options for escape from tonight’s calamity.
She could call for help. 911. Help, I’m trapped. She brightened momentarily until she remembered that her cell phone was in her purse over by the door on the overstuffed chair with the upholstery that matched the wallpaper. No help there.
She could opt to stay here until morning, braving the pain. She glanced at the night table. She had three books with which to distract herself and help the time pass. She reached out and pulled a book from the pile. She opened it and realized that she was wedged in such a tight V that she couldn’t hold the words far enough from her face for her eyes to focus. She sighed. So much for reading the night away.
There was a third possibility. She could scream bloody murder until someone came and broke down her door. She imagined all the guests exploding into her room like a SWAT team into a crisis situation, clad in their jammies instead of bulletproof vests. She wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t overjoyed at the idea of making a fool of herself that publicly, but at least her Lands’ End nightie wasn’t translucent or transparent.
She stared at the wall to her left. Dan was just on the other side. If he could quietly rescue her, maybe she could be saved the embarrassment of everyone knowing of her dilemma. Surely he was strong enough to pull her free. But what if he wasn’t? Would they have to call 911 after all? Did the Jaws of Life cut through mattresses as easily as through metal?
“Dan,” she called softly.
No response.
“Dan.” Her voice was normal volume.
Nothing. He was probably asleep already, making so much noise snoring that he couldn’t hear her.
“Dan!” she yelled. “Dan!” For once she regretted the thick walls found in old houses like this one and the modern insulation that had undoubtedly been added when the place was rewired. At least insulation had been put in place at SeaSong, both for blocking noise and ease of heating in winter. “Dan! Help!”
“Cass?” came faintly through the wall.
Relief washed through her. “Dan! Help me! Please!”
She heard nothing and was beginning to despair when her doorknob rattled. Then came knocking on the door and Dan calling much too loudly, “Open up, Cass. Unlock the door.”
“I can’t.”
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
Cass stared at the door. It was maybe fifteen or twenty feet away across the large room, but it might as well have been miles. “No, I can’t!”
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
She could hear the anxiety in Dan’s voice. “I’m not hurt. I’m, ah, stuck.”
“Stuck?” The word incredulous was invented to describe Dan’s reaction. “Stuck how?”
Cass heard a door open across the hall. “Quiet out there. We’re trying to sleep.”
Another voice called, “What in the world is going on out there?”
And another. “What’s wrong? Who’s stuck? Stuck where?”
Cass grimaced. So much for a private rescue. Wait until they got the door open and saw her, fuzzy-socked feet flying high. She pulled her sweater tightly across her chest. She’d look like an idiot, but at least she could be a decent one.
“I’m going to go look for another key,” Dan called through the door. “Don’t worry; I’ll be right back. Just stay still.” She heard him running down the stairs.
Just stay still. Hah! As if she was going anywhere. She wiggled a bit and felt herself slide down a couple more inches. She stilled before her knees met her ears.
A guest called from the hall, “The extra keys are in a drawer behind the registration desk.”
There was a little pause during which Cass heard the whispers outside her door without being able to decipher words. Then came the thud of heavy footfalls returning and Dan calling, “I got it!”
A couple of guests actually cheered.
The key slipped into the lock, turned, and the door burst open. Dan rushed in. And slid to an abrupt halt when he saw her. The other men, tight on his heels to help with the rescue, bumped into him, knocking him forward a few steps.
“If you laugh, I’ll—” Cass couldn’t think of anything dire enough to threaten him with. She ignored the other men and the wives who now peered in the door curiously.
“I wouldn’t think of laughing,” Dan assured her as his lips twitched. He pressed them together to keep them still, but the corners kept turning up, and his eyes danced suspiciously.
“Is she okay?” The other guests tried to peer over and around Dan. “Any blood? Do we need an ambulance?”
Cass gave them all the royal wave. “I’m fine,” she called, trying to act like getting wedged in a bed was an everyday matter.
Dan walked to the bed and stood studying her. She propped an elbow on her knee, her chin in her palm, and studied him back.
“Oh, my,” said one of the guests, censure in his voice. “She broke the bed.”
“I did not,” Cass protested. “It collapsed under me.”
“What’s the difference?” he asked.
Dan reached out a hand, grabbed one of hers, and pulled. Nothing happened.
“Good grief, Cass. You really are stuck.”
“Tell me about it.”
He gripped both her hands and heaved. Cass didn’t actually hear a pop, but she flew through the air like an ice cube exploding from a plastic tray. The mattress fell crookedly across the support slats with a loud thud, and she crashed full speed into Dan.
He caught her as she bounced off him, holding her steady. He looked down at her, she looked up at him, and they both began to laugh. They laughed unti
l tears came, and they gasped for breath. Soon the awakened guests were laughing with them as they called good night and wandered back to their rooms. Cass knew they were thinking about what a great story this was to tell their friends.
Still chuckling, Cass and Dan realigned the bed slats, making sure one was at the head of the bed so she could sit up and read. They realigned the mattress and straightened the bedding.
Cass walked Dan to the door. They grinned at each other.
“You know,” he said as he draped an arm over her shoulder, “I used to live an ordered and orderly life before I knew you.”
“Ha!” Cass countered. “What about me? I never got in trouble before I knew you.”
He caressed her cheek. “Our lives must have been pretty boring, and we didn’t even notice.”
“Oh, I noticed all right, but I didn’t know how to fix it.” Until now. Until you. Suddenly afraid her dopey, love-struck face revealed too much, she looked away.
He put a hand under her chin and turned her face to his. “And now you know?”
The air between them crackled, and she knew they were talking about much more than fixing boring lives. She stared into his handsome face and nodded, her heart in her eyes. “I know,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Me, too.”
His good night kiss touched her all the way to her toes.
Twenty-Nine
HE HAD FOLLOWED Sherri home from work. He stared in disbelief at the tacky apartment building where she and Kevin lived. It was a big house divided into four units, and the entire structure looked even more unstable than the place where he was staying. If this beast of a hurricane didn’t blow that place down like the big, bad wolf blew down the pigs’ houses of straw and sticks, he’d be amazed.
All that Best money at her fingertips, and she chose to live in a collapsing dump, her stuffed checking accounts and credit cards untouched. It made no sense whatsoever.
At six o’clock last evening Sherri and Kevin went out as he watched, slumped down in the seat of his rental car. He tailed them to some cheap restaurant that would probably give them ptomaine poisoning. He shrugged. It’d save him a lot of trouble.
