“I’m not afraid.”
“Good.” Adeline paused. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t bring any of this up - not about the ghosts and especially not about the family tree. I’ve talked my fool head off and I don’t know why.” She paused. “Or maybe I do.”
Holly nodded. People told her lots of things. She figured she was a really good listener. “I won’t tell anyone anything, I promise.”
Adeline smiled and stood up. “Thank you. Well, young lady, now that you know your ancestors helped establish Brimstone and you’re going to live here a while, do you think you might be interested in the history of this town?”
“Yes! I was interested anyway! But now I’m really interested! How’d you know?”
“You look like a girl who likes to know about things. A girl who loves books.”
“That’s me! I went to the library in Van Nuys, but hardly found out anything about Brimstone.” The bells on the door jingled as the old man entered and handed some money to his wife. “I need $1.28 change.” He turned a twinkling smile on Holly.
“Holly, this is my husband, Isaac,” said Adeline.
“Call me Ike.” The man grinned.
“And this is Holly,” said Adeline. “And guess who her grandmother is.”
“Well, I don’t know. Is she the man in the moon?”
Holly laughed.
“Delilah Devine.” Adeline spoke quietly.
“Oh, my.” Isaac’s laugh sounded strained. “Well, I’d better get this change out to your mother.”
“See if you can’t shoot the breeze with her for a minute or two so Holly and I can talk.”
Isaac grinned. “Pretty lady like that? Sweet Adeline, your wish is my command.” He was out the door.
“Holly, I want to give you something.” Adeline rustled around behind the counter, grunting as she dug something out from below. “There it is.”
Setting a white box on the counter, she wiped dust off the lid then opened it. Inside were flyers, brochures and booklets. “These are all about Brimstone.” Adeline began rifling through the box. “You can take anything you want, but I suggest you start with this.” She handed Holly a booklet with a faded blue cover that read, The History of Brimstone. “It talks about the hotel, about when it used to be the Clementine Hospital. You’ll read about your great-great- grandfather-”
“Just a minute. I have to ask my mother for money …”
“No, no. I’m giving these to you, honey.”
“Really?” Holly didn’t try to hide her glee. “Why?”
“Consider it a welcome present. Here are some flyers about places to visit in Brimstone. And here’s a booklet about Brimstone today - well, as of two years ago. Here’s a pamphlet about the local Indian tribes that used to live here.” She rummaged some more. “There’s something else I think you’ll really enjoy-”
The earth rumbled under her feet and Holly grabbed the counter.
“It’s okay, Holly, it’s just the ground settling. It happens once in a while.”
“But that was an earthquake, right?” Holly had never felt one before, but they talked about them a lot back in California. It didn’t seem so bad.
“Indeed, it was.” Adeline looked kind of pale.
Holly wanted to ask why Adeline was upset but knew she shouldn’t, so she picked up another booklet. “Folklore and Legends of Brimstone, Arizona,” Holly read. “This looks like fun!”
“By all means, take it, Holly. I love folklore, too.”
“Are there any ghost stories in the folklore book?”
“I think so, but it’s been a while since I’ve read it. Maybe you can tell me next time you visit.” Adeline picked up the papers and booklets, put them in a small paper sack, and gave them to Holly. “Now, we’d better get you out of here before Ike bores your mother to death. Why don’t you come back and see me after you’ve read a little?”
“I will. Thank you!” Holly, happy about the move for the first time, turned toward the door. Just as she put her hand on the latch, her mother tapped the horn.
And the shaking began.
The earth grumbled and the world rocked. Holly steadied herself against the cooler as soda bottles jingled against each other.
“It’s a big one,” said Adeline. Coins in the cash register rattled like rain on a tin roof. “Stay in the doorway, Holly.”
Holly positioned herself, the earth moving beneath her feet. She felt as if she were riding a surfboard on a giant wave.
Outside, Isaac hunkered down and made his way toward the office. Cherry stared open-mouthed, frozen behind the wheel.
The Coca-Cola clock slipped off its place on the wall and struck the ground, its face shattering as the bells on the door rang in counterpoint to the soda bottles. Holly gripped her two open bottles, trying to keep them from sloshing as the ground rolled again. She watched a rack of postcards tilt, then right itself. A pair of sunglasses clattered from a display.
Isaac joined Holly in the doorway as Adeline disappeared behind the counter.
The gentle rolling stopped as the earth gave another angry grumble. And then roared.
A hard jolt sent the racks of postcards and sunglasses crashing to the floor. Fan belts skittered from a display and candy bars by the cash register flew through the air. Isaac grabbed Holly and held her tight.
It was over in an instant.
“You okay?” Isaac asked.
“Uh, huh.”
“Adeline?”
“Right as rain,” his wife called, coming out from behind the counter.
Cherry arrived. “You okay, Holly?”
“Fine.”
“Jesus H. Christ, the last time I felt a quake like that, I was shooting a movie in Frisco. Let’s get going.”
Holly nodded, staring at Adeline Chance, “Do you have lots of earthquakes here?”
“No. Back when they were mining, there were quite a few, but honestly, Brimstone hasn’t had a real quake in decades.” She smiled but it didn’t hide the nervousness in her voice. “I guess it’s just your lucky day.”
“It’s an omen, is what it is.” Cherry snapped her gum. “We should probably turn around and head straight back to Hollywood.”
“No!” Holly said.
“What?” Cherry gave her daughter a surprised look.
“I mean, I want to at least meet my grandmother.”
Cherry laughed, dry and brittle. “Don’t worry, kid, you will.”
“Goodbye, Adeline.” Holly aimed her mother at the door. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t! Here, Cherry, here’s your Dr. Pepper. Let’s go.”
2
Welcome to the Neighborhood
“Goddamned earthquakes, that’s all these hicks are going to talk about now,” Cherry complained as they continued climbing the hair-pinned road up to the hotel. They were in Brimstone’s version of suburbs now. The houses - some beaten down and ramshackle, others neat and perfect - lined the narrowing road. Some were clapboard, some river stone, some brick. Most had dirt driveways, a few asphalt or concrete, and only a couple had lawns like Holly had seen in California. Most had dirt and desert plants and trees; many with low drooping willows tenting the ground with graceful branches. Dotting the neighborhood were taller oaks, manzanita, mesquite, and bright wildflowers. Smooth stones demarcated the driveways, many of which held motorcycles or VW vans. Others had bicycles or station wagons. There were plenty of pickup trucks, too, aging yellow Chevies, sun-faded turquoise Fords. Some yards had vegetable patches and even big gardens. Clothes hung on lines blew in the breeze - and lots of those were tie-dyed.
“Fucking hippies,” Cherry muttered as they passed a white clapboard house with a big red, white, and blue peace sign painted on its tall peaked roof.
Cherry hated hippies; she said they were dirty and had lice. Holly didn’t know about that, and was hoping to see some, but nobody was outside, which seemed a little weird after the earth
quake. Maybe they were all at work or inside picking up broken dishes and sweeping and stuff.
“How many earthquakes have you been in, Cherry?”
“Oh, a few. The worst was in 1948, I think. Christmastime, though you wouldn’t know it in Hollywood except for the decorations.” She snapped her gum and gripped the wheel hard as the Falcon grumbled then roared up a sharp curve. “It was big - bigger than we just felt. It was a Saturday afternoon. My mother was in the tub getting ready for a night on the town, like usual. Everything started moving and she started screaming her lungs out that she was drowning or something. I remember that more than anything else, her freaking out.”
“How old were you?”
“Oh, Jesus, kid, I don’t know. Ten, maybe. Eleven. About your age.” Cherry downshifted as the asphalt gave way to dirt and they started up an extra steep curve. “I hate this place; my poor car is getting filthy!”
“What were you doing? When the earthquake happened, I mean?”
Cherry shot Holly a glance. “You’re full of questions. I guess this was your first quake, huh, kid?”
“Yes.”
“You scared?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Don’t be. That was nothing compared to the one in ‘48. Nothing but peanuts.” She coughed on the dust and closed the vent. “Christ! Anyway, your grandmother just freaked out. Refused to take a bath in her beloved tub for months - she’d only shower. I bet she’s going to be a big old bundle of nerves when we get there.”
“Why is she afraid of earthquakes?”
“You got me, kid.”
They rounded a bend and as the main road turned east, saw a sign that read, “Hospital Hill. Elevation 5,300 Feet.” To the west, a potted dirt track led toward a few old shacks, and beyond them, Holly saw a big wooden cross in the distance. “That looks like a ghost town. And maybe a cemetery!”
“You and your cemeteries, Holly. Yeah, that could be one, I don’t know. All I know is that Brimstone is one big ghost town - by the looks of things, they don’t tear nothing down in this town.”
Holly couldn’t wait to check out the cemetery - she loved them, mostly because she liked reading the names and making up stories about how the people died. But for now, she looked in the other direction. The road was much better and they soon passed a brown and white sign with an arrow pointing straight up: “The Brimstone Grand Hotel,” Holly read. “Ahead 1000 feet. Historical Landmark.”
“Jesus, I thought we’d never get here.” Cherry shook her head. “I hate this place.”
“You’ve been here before?” Holly asked.
“No. I just hate it.”
The Brimstone Grand still wasn’t in sight. Everything below and above the road was hidden by heavy desert scrub and trees. “Why is it a historical landmark?”
“It’s old, so it’s historical, I guess.”
“But there are lots of old places that aren’t historical. Why is this one?”
“You sure do ask a lot of questions.” Cherry snorted. “I think if you let them put that sign up and make a turnout for people to park and gawk at something old, you get some money for upkeep from the state or something. I don’t know.”
“Brimstone Grand Hotel - Five Hundred Feet,” Holly read another sign as the dirt road turned to gravel. Her stomach twisted with excitement and anxiety. She’d met her grandmother once, a long time ago, but barely remembered her, except that she had seemed tall and scary in her swooping black coat and veiled hat.
Then Holly gasped as she caught her first real view of the hotel. She could only see the top floors above the trees - a flat roof edged in adobe tile, then below, peachy-beige walls lined with windows, their frames painted burnt orange.
“It’s huge,” Holly said.
“It’s a hotel,” Cherry answered. “What’d you expect?”
“Not this!”
One more curve and the entire building, though still distant, came into view at the end of the long gravel drive. There were people milling everywhere.
“They’re afraid of being inside,” Cherry said, snapping her gum. “In case there’s a bigger quake.”
On the left, Holly saw a sign that said Clementine Park - it was just a lot of dirt crammed with a big slide, monkey bars of all kinds, an iron merry-go-round, a teeter-totter, a big jungle gym, and a couple of swing sets, tall and short. Holly smiled. Cherry kept telling her she was too old to play on those things, but she wasn’t going to give them up yet, at least not until junior high. Even then, maybe not.
“Those kids look like they’re around your age,” Cherry said as they drove slowly by.
“Maybe.” The kids in the playground were mostly just standing around, probably freaked out by the earthquake. She turned her eyes back to the Brimstone Grand.
The backside of the big rectangular hotel pressed up close to the mountain and she could see now that only the top two floors had balconies. The narrow end of the building faced them. It had a dozen broad curved steps leading up to big arched double doors with tall windows bookending them. Above them was an ornate gold sign that said, Devine’s.
There were people on the steps and everywhere else, some staring up at the building, some out at the vista below. Holly glanced that way - the view was incredible; she saw the town, then the long ribbon of road slicing through the desert until it finally disappeared into the mountains that hid Sedona, where they’d stopped for burgers on the way down.
“Earthquake, earthquake, earthquake,” Cherry complained again as she drove past the gawking people and into the parking lot. “Like I said, that’s all we’ll hear about. Stupid earthquakes.” She pulled past the restaurant, impatiently honking at people blocking her way. A row of parked cars faced the town below. Cherry pulled into a slot almost directly across from the lobby’s double doors.
“Okay, kid, this is it.” She pulled a rhinestone-encrusted brush out of her white handbag and ran it through her platinum blond Jayne Mansfield-style hair - she’d bleached it right after Mansfield died last year with hopes of becoming her replacement. It hadn’t happened. She handed the brush to Holly and started reapplying her silvery-pink lipstick while Holly ran the bristles through her own honey-colored hair, using her hand to make it flip up around her shoulders the way Samantha on Bewitched did, fluffed her bangs and handed it back. Cherry reached out and straightened the collar of her blue checked shirt. “You’ll do. Let’s go.”
They got out of the car and while Cherry adjusted her tight pink capris and centered the white cropped peasant blouse on her shoulders, Holly paused, looking between the bushes and trees to see the town and valley below. A couple of men stood close by, staring and pointing. Holly followed their fingers and saw a plume of smoke rising from several old buildings clustered together near the end of the main road. She could hear sirens and spotted a fire engine. It looked like a big red ant.
“Looks like Dick’s Roadhouse is burning,” said the man in the baseball cap.
“Damn shame,” said the one in the cowboy hat. “I’ll bet the quake cracked a gas line. He shoulda replaced that sonofabitch years ago.”
“Hope it don’t take out his neighbors.”
“Probably will,” the baseball guy observed. “Well, the Shrimp Shack is wood, it’ll go for sure, but the Tool Shed is cement. She’ll stand unless the fireboys don’t know their asses from holes in the ground.”
Holly fought off a giggle.
“The Shrimp Shed is no big loss,” said the cowboy. “I got food poisoning last time I ate there.”
“Come on, kid,” Cherry said.
The two men looked up and, as usual, both of them grinned at Holly’s mother. The Stetson and baseball cap were tipped. “Ladies,” drawled the cowboy.
Cherry smiled, then nudged Holly toward the lobby door. She walked quickly, knowing that if she glanced back, the men would be staring at Cherry’s rear end. They always did.
As they approached the glass doors of the Brimstone Grand, a creaky rumble startled
Holly. A dozen feet down, a cream-colored garage door was being opened, but instead of being pushed up, a man in blue coveralls was rolling it sideways. Within, an engine roared to life and then the long hood of a deep violet car nosed out. It was old-fashioned but shiny-new, its chrome details glinting in the sun. Behind the wheel was a uniformed driver, eyes hidden behind dark glasses, mouth set in a grim line.
“Wow,” Holly said. “What kind of car is that?”
“It’s your grandmother’s Rolls.” Cherry blew a bubble then sucked the gum back in her mouth. “It’s from the thirties, really old. Just like her.”
The driver pulled the car away from the building and away from all the other vehicles, then got out and walked to the rear where he lit a cigarette then stood, legs slightly apart, posture perfect. He’s guarding it.
“It doesn’t look like a Rolls Royce,” Holly observed. Except for the big rectangular grill and a glass hood ornament in the shape of a lady, it really didn’t. It was long and rounded, like a race car, but weirder. After the windshield, the top of the car fell into a long slash a lot like the new Mustang Shelby or a Barracuda, but sloped all the way down to the wheels instead of cutting off for the trunk like modern cars.
“Can I go ask the man about it?”
“Holly, you’re a girl. You’re not supposed to think about cars,” Cherry said. “It’s time to stop being a tomboy and grow up. Let the boys worry about cars. Come on.” She grabbed the handle to one entry door and pulled. “Let’s go in and get this over with.”
Reluctantly, Holly looked at the purple car - the best color ever! - and tried waving at the man. He didn’t wave back, but did give her a slight nod.
“Come on, kid.” Cherry held the door open.
3
Brimstone Page 3
