by Maddy Hunter
Soft whimpering sounds escaped from Mom’s throat as Wendell encouraged Dad to try it on for size. Dad slipped his arms through a set of wide straps and crushed the accordion to his chest. “Looks like we’ve got us a live one!” hooted Otis as the other musicians suddenly fell into each other snorting, laughing, and knee-slapping.
A befuddled look settled on Dad’s face.
Hetty eased the instrument off Dad’s chest and flipped it 180 degrees. “A small helpful hint, Bob. You’ll find a piano accordion easier to play if you’re not holding it upside down.”
Play an accordion? He didn’t even know how to hold an accordion.
Oh, God. I needed to get Mom out of here before the embarrassment became too crippling for her. “Would you like to go back to your room to freshen up before dinner, Mom?”
Snatching her hands away from her eyes, she jackknifed upward, resolve stamped on her face. “I know what I’ll do. I’ll fly home. So if your father wants to continue this fool’s errand, he won’t be able to humiliate anyone but himself—and the musicians, and you, and Etienne, and the rest of the tour guests, and your tour company in general.” She paused in reflection. “Maybe you’d like to fly home with me.”
A frisson of alarm coiled in my stomach. Holy crap. She was serious. How could this be happening? I’d learned to contend with foul weather, feuding guests, unexpected death, and Bernice, but I had no idea how to contend with dissention between my parents. I couldn’t even refer to the updated version of my Escort’s Manual because I’d written it, and I hadn’t included a section that dealt with parental discord.
OhGodohGodohGod. I had no other choice. I was going to have to initiate the nuclear option.
My throat started to close in protest. “What about me?” I gasped out in a hoarse breath.
The resolve on her face suddenly wilted.
“I thought you and I were going to be joined at the hip until I started feeling like myself again.”
I could see the war playing out in her eyes. Commitment or flight? Humiliation or duty? Good mother or bad mother?
She tucked in her lips, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Emily. Your father has upset me so much that I completely forgot about you.”
“No problem,” I soothed. “I know it’s been traumatic for you.”
“You understand me so well.” She patted my hand while Dad, in the front of the room, surrounded by a full complement of musicians, gawked at his marbled keyboard and chord buttons with a clueless look on his face.
Mom regarded him and winced. “So I’ll stay with the tour until you’re feeling better…and then I’ll fly home. Do you have any idea how long you might need me? Another day? Maybe two?”
Okay, I hadn’t solved the problem, but at least I’d gained a little breathing space to work things out.
Dad expanded the bellows, generating a mournful drone that sounded like ailing bagpipes. “That does it.” Mom shot to her feet. “I’ve had enough. You stay right here. I’ll get your key from Etienne and take you up to your room.”
“Has the meeting been adjourned yet?” Osmond called out over the whining bellows.
“Meeting adjourned,” announced Wally.
They vacated their seats in typical “mad dash” fashion, bumping into each other as they tried to cut each other off. “Watch where you’re going!” I cautioned as they raced past me, monitoring the readout screens on their phones as they fled.
“How are you doing, Emily? Are you all right?” Zola Czarnecki paused in front of me, her freckled face creased with concern. “When I heard the explosion I feared the worst, so I can’t begin to tell you how thankful I am that there weren’t more casualties.”
I grasped her hand and stared her straight in the eye, torn between disbelief and awe. “You knew.” My voice caught in my throat like a fish bone. “You knew what was going to happen.”
“Not exactly. I got spooked by a bad vibe that turned out to be more than just a vibe.”
“But…how could you have sensed what was about to happen on that street? How is that possible?”
She shrugged. “It’s a clairvoyant thing. I don’t expect civilians to understand the process, but what it boils down to is, I’m not wired the same as everyone else.”
Guilt gnawed at my conscience, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. “I should have gotten the word out—warned the other guests. If I’d told them about your misgivings, maybe—”
Zola held up her other hand, cutting me off. “You think they would have believed me? Shoot, you didn’t believe me. You thought I was a pain in the butt and a little nuts, and don’t tell me otherwise because I could see it in your eyes. You started thinking the ole clairvoyant might prove herself to be not only annoying but a real financial drain on your whole operation. I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.”
Wow. If she could see all that in my eyes, I needed to think about blinking more. “I—uh, I guess the financial implications did enter my mind…a little.”
“Which is why when I get my twinges, I try not to shove them down anyone else’s throat. But I’m not about to charge straight into the jaws of danger if my ears start humming and every hair on my body is standing on end.”
“Is that what happens when you get one of your twinges?”
“Nah. That’s the Hollywood version, but it’s as good as any. I’ve never been able to explain what happens exactly because I’m being bombarded by too many sensations when it hits me, but my ma used to say it was like getting zapped by a bolt of lightning, only on a smaller scale.”
“Sounds a little scary.”
“I don’t recommend it to the general public. People think it would be so cool to be clairvoyant, but I’ll let you in on a secret: it’s highly overrated. Way too much grief involved.”
Her words spurred two images. Zola standing in the plaza, head bowed, eyes closed, focusing all her energy on Astrid Peterson’s hand, and Zola releasing Astrid’s hand, looking completely unnerved. “You knew Astrid was going to die, didn’t you? You saw it when you did your hand-holding thing.”
“That’s not true. I had no idea she only had minutes to live.”
“Then what caused you to look so alarmed after you released her hand, remember? Your expression frightened her so much, she asked if you’d seen something horrible in her future, and you said no.”
“I told her the truth.”
“Then why did you look so rattled? If you didn’t see her imminent death, what did you see?”
“That’s what frightened me. I can always predict something—something fun and harmless: a birthday party, a wedding, a vacation. It’s never unclear.” Her eyes grew haunted. She elevated her hands and stared at her palms. “But when I tried with Astrid, I felt as if my whole system had broken down. It was the first time anything like that had ever happened to me. It scared the bejeebers out of me. It was like looking into a black hole. When I was holding Astrid’s hand, I didn’t see the future.”
She lifted her gaze to my face, fear rampant in her eyes. “I saw nothing at all.”
Mom dropped me off at my door.
“Do you want me to come inside with you, Em? I could run a hot bath or rub your feet or get you a snack out of the minibar.” A hint of excitement crept into her voice. “I don’t know how the treats are organized in the minibar, but I’ll bet no one takes the time to arrange them properly.”
Our boutique hotel maintained a certain European charm by providing us with actual door keys rather than key cards, but the downside was, if we didn’t return the hardware at the end of our stay, they’d tack an added fee onto our bill. I wasn’t running the show here, but in this age of keyless ignitions and thumbprint entry locks, room keys seemed almost a little too retro to be practical.
As I inserted my key into the doorknob, Mom rubbed her hands together, champing at the bit to get inside. When I heard a
click, I turned the knob and eased the door open.
“Thanks for the offer, Mom, but I’m good. Really. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? Dinner’s in less than an hour, so go have a drink. Shmooze. Enjoy yourself. Etienne will be up in a few minutes, so I’ll be just fine until tomorrow…when…when I’ll look forward to hanging out with you”—I inhaled a steadying breath—“All. Day. Long.”
She hesitated at the threshold. “You’re sure? Because if you need me, I’ll gladly miss supper.”
I gave her a hug. “I’m fine. Thanks for all your help, and I’ll see you in the morning. Okay?”
She craned her neck to peek inside the room. “If you’d like that stack of magazines on the desk organized, it wouldn’t take me a minute to—”
“If you can hold out until tomorrow, I’ll be happy to have you come in and organize to your heart’s content. All right?”
“You bet.” She shivered with delight. “Would you look at me?” She shoved her sleeve toward her elbow to show me her forearm. “I’ve got goose bumps just thinking about it. You run along and rest, then, and call if you need me for anything. Anything at all.”
After closing the door, I headed immediately for the desk where Etienne’s leather messenger bag was sitting. I unsnapped the main flap, removed a sheaf of documents from the first compartment, and found the page I was looking for on the very top. I scanned the sheet for the information I needed, repeated the information aloud to reinforce my memory, and headed back out the door and down the corridor until I arrived at the room I was looking for. It was pretty handy that we were on the same floor.
I knocked on the door and waited.
And waited.
I heard no telltale sounds indicating the room was occupied, but I knew for a fact that someone was inside and standing at the security peephole, looking out at me.
I knocked again. “Open up. I know you’re in there. I can see your shadow at the base of the door.”
Whispering. Shushing. Then silence.
I checked my watch. “If you don’t head down to dinner within the next ten minutes, you’ll probably have to wait in a really long line at the buffet station, so I’m going to stay right here and wait you out.”
More whispers. Footsteps shuffling on the carpet. Heavy breathing. An odd crinkling sound.
I looked down to find a small rectangle of paper inching its way into the hall from beneath the door. I snatched it up. A personal check with my name listed as the payee. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want your money, Nana.”
“But it’s a million dollars.”
“Open the door.”
The lock clicked. The door opened.
Nana and Tilly stood on the other side—Nana looking physically diminished and shamefaced, Tilly looking tall and professorial. “I warned Marion that you wouldn’t accept her blood money,” said Tilly.
“You were right.” I ripped the check in two and handed it back to Nana.
Nana’s expression brightened. “How about two million? I got more checks.”
“No! I will not ease your guilty conscience by taking your money.”
“Three million?”
“Why’d you do it?” I regarded her sternly. “You and I have always been on the same page when it comes to dealing with Mom—until today. Why’d you sell me out?”
She heaved a pathetic sigh. “It was one of them acts of desperation. I’m not proud of what I done, but when I seen an openin’, I took it. I’m sorry for bein’ a traitor, dear, but if your mother’s plannin’ to be a millstone around my neck for this whole trip, I’d rather go home.”
“With the way things are starting to unravel, you’ll probably end up sitting next to her on the flight back.”
“What?”
“Mom is threatening to fly home early because of Dad. He’s embarrassing her.”
“No kiddin’?” Nana led me farther into the room while Tilly closed the door. “That could work. If Margaret goes, I’ll stay.”
I collapsed into the room’s lone armchair. “Have you ever heard Dad play an accordion?”
“Your father don’t play no instrument. He don’t even hum.”
“That’s what Mom said.” I closed my eyes and blew out a tired breath. “Lord, what a day.”
“I imagine you’ll be needin’ this,” said Nana as she dropped my shoulder bag onto my lap.
“My bag!” I gave it an affectionate squeeze before riffling through it to fish out my makeup mirror. Holding it in front of my face, I stared at my reflection…and screamed. My face was pockmarked with a half-dozen ulcerations that were big as peas and red with dried blood. “I look like I’ve been shot with beebees.”
“Or been huntin’ with Dick Cheney,” said Nana.
I touched a particularly angry lesion on my cheek. “I can’t be seen in public like this. I’ll scare people.”
“Tilly’s got somethin’ that’ll heal them sores overnight, don’t you, Til?”
Tilly walked over to her suitcase and removed a small jar from her toiletry bag. “This is a restorative compound that I stumbled upon in New Guinea on my first trip into the jungle. Shaman approved and a must-have among the headhunting set. Guaranteed to heal all types of weals, gashes, and wounds within twenty-four hours. When you’re in the business of shrinking human heads, you’re all about treatments that are strong and fast acting.” She handed me the jar. “The witch doctor was kind enough to share his secret recipe with me, so I’ve been making it at home for decades.”
I opened the jar and sniffed the contents, stunned by the pleasant fragrance. “You’re able to find all the ingredients in Iowa?”
“Not exactly. The witch doctor’s grandson sends me a shipment of special additives once a year. Mail service has improved so much from the Pacific Rim. Our postal service might be shutting down offices here in the States, but in New Guinea, FedEx is opening branch offices in strip malls all throughout the jungle.”
“So…how do I use it?”
“Like a moisturizer, with a special concentration on the affected areas. One application should work. I guarantee positive results by morning.”
It was worth a try. I figured it was either Tilly’s cream or a paper sack with cutouts for my eyes.
“I got somethin’ for you too,” said Nana. She shuffled over to the closet, removed her wind jacket, and started rummaging inside the pockets. “George sneaked it to me when we was hikin’ to the beer hall. He said I could use it to escape your mother.” She seized the object, returned her jacket to its hanger, and hurried back across the room.
She pressed it into my palm. I stared at it, my confusion surpassed only by my alarm. “George is encouraging you to stab Mom with a Swiss army knife?”
“No. I was s’posed to use it to cut through the dang leash she slapped on my wrist. So here’s the scoop. If she traps you tomorrow, wait ’til she’s not lookin’, then cut the cord and run. I hijacked the one she used on me today, but I don’t know how many of the things she brung with her. She might have backups.”
I lengthened my eyes to slits. “If you already had a plan in place to solve the problem, why did you go out of your way to sic her on me? Couldn’t you have just carried out your scheme without dragging me into it?”
“There’s only one thing important enough to stop your mother from fussin’ over me, Emily, and that’s you. It’s a whole lot easier for you to stomach her ’cuz she don’t treat you like you’re a dotty relic what’s in danger of goin’ off the reservation. And you got your young man to swoop down and draw one a them lines in the sand if her fussin’ goes over the top.”
“Her fussing always goes over the top.”
“I know, dear. That’s why I handed the baton off to you. I been exposed to her a lot longer than you have, so I’ve reached the point of what you call critical mass.”
My lips twitched involuntarily. I was trying to remain irritated, but it was a struggle. “Don’t think for one minute that I’ve forgiven you, Nana.”
She bowed her head and lowered her gaze in contrition. “I’m probably lookin’ at extra time in Purgatory for what I done, so don’t you worry. I’ll have my day of reckonin’. I just hope the Good Lord’ll take pity on me and postpone my punishment ’til after the trip.” She looked up, an impish flicker in her eyes. “Now that I don’t got your mother on my back no more, George and me can really let loose.”
five
“This is really nice of you folks to open up Astrid’s room for me.”
“We’d like to accommodate the hotel by vacating her room as quickly as possible,” Etienne confided as he unlocked the door, “so it’s no inconvenience. What is it you said you’re looking for?”
“Just some silly…trifle,” said Otis. He smoothed his hand over the bristly white hairs of his beard as if he were caressing a security blanket. “Something I lent her that I’d like to get back.”
I’d skipped the group buffet dinner in favor of room service and quiet, and amazingly, after enjoying a hot meal and a long bath, I’d felt so restored that I’d volunteered to lend Etienne a hand while he packed up Astrid’s belongings. Otis had knocked on our door before we left, asking if it would be possible for him to retrieve a personal item from Astrid’s room, so since we were headed in that direction anyway, Etienne had invited him to join us.
Etienne pushed open the door and flipped on the wall switch, casting light into the far corners of a room that was an exact replica of ours—queen size bed, desk with rolling chair, mirrorless dresser, flat screen TV, upholstered barrel chair, floor lamp, glass-top side table. The only difference was that Astrid’s room looked as if it had been upended by the Wizard of Oz tornado.
“Oh, my.”
Clothing tumbled over the tops of opened drawers. Bedding hung to the floor down to the mattress cover. Underwear and nylon stockings lay scattered about the floor. An emptied suitcase sat atop the luggage rack. The closet door was halfway open, the hotel ironing board lying on the floor, the guest safe unused.
