Penelope's Suitors

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Spring, 2006

The actuaries were having a buffet dinner in the ballroom, so he was able to dine in quiet splendor in the airy hotel restaurant overlooking the lake. He had a surprisingly tender veal chop and crisp green beans, and lingered over two cups of decaf espresso.

Someone tried to get Penelope to leave. That's what it amounted to—Pete Cress was right. And someone was meeting with William in the rain by the cliff. He wouldn't be in that spot by himself. Ted suddenly thought of Denise's father, finding his daughter with William. But he found himself up against the geography: a sedentary middle-aged father somehow wrestling a physically fit teenager over the edge of a cliff. Not feasible.

Ted closed his eyes: someone wanted to get rid of Penelope. Why? So they could have a go at William? But Penelope would be the last person down that night anyway. And Penelope with her lover…the secret that wasn't a secret.

The waiter was standing discreetly by his elbow.

"Can I interest you in an after-dinner drink? A cognac?" It was tempting, but he'd already had an afternoon scotch, and if he had anymore to drink he'd become maudlin.

"Thank you, just the check." He signed it, and headed up to his room. He kicked off his shoes, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Miranda.

"Hello, sweetie. Calling you from the north country's finest hotel."

"Lucky boy, getting a free vacation on the Tolfords' dime."

"Not a vacation, work. And as much as I love hearing your voice, this is a business call."

Miranda practically squealed. "I get to help? How exciting! Let me get a pad and pencil…okay, ready, chief."

"First item. Tomorrow—you know Josh Weinstein, he covers real estate?"

"I met him once, big guy, in his 50s."

"Right. He's forgotten more about real estate than anyone else will know. Ask him if he knows anything about a privately held company, Zelnick Construction, out of New Jersey. Okay, number two—" He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card Ariadne had given him. "—I'm going to try to talk to some guy I knew when we were teenagers. I was just given his business card, and I see he's a Certified Financial Planner. Insurance, securities, mutual funds, etc., etc. Guys like this have long paper trails. See what you can dig up. His name is Matthew Roebling." He heard her scribbling furiously.

"Elaine McCarthy has contacts at the NASD—ask her. Oh, and, Matthew works with a firm, big outfit, Axiom Securities. I once interviewed their top marketing guy, Steve Landsky. See if he has anything he can talk about, off the record. Finally, this is a long shot. Nicholas Jayston—a high school math teacher, probably in a suburb of Chicago. That's all I have on him. Anything on him would be welcome, good, bad, indifferent. Got all that? I'll be running around tomorrow, but I’ll touch base with you in the afternoon."

"I'm on it. I'll get in early and work through lunch. But I'm expecting a very nice dinner for this."

"Of course. Now, put the pen down. I have another question. And this isn't personal. It's business."

"That's quite a disclaimer," she said.

"I want you to think back to your high school years. Did you ever fall in love with a teacher?"

"That's some question! I'll answer it, but you have to tell me why you asked. Okay, yes, I was mad for Mr. Cabot."

"Let me guess. The boys' basketball coach, tall and well-built—"

"Oh, you don't know me at all," she said, miffed. "He was my English teacher, and had poems published in the San Francisco Literary Review. He was about 40, bicycled to school. He wore these clever ties, oh, and he was prematurely gray at the temples…"

"But it never went anywhere?" asked Ted.

"Now that's a disgusting question. A crush on a teacher is cute. An affair with one is just gross. I never would've. He never would've. I mean, he had a wife, children."

"But did you know any girl who did?"

"Actually know someone? I didn't hang out with girls like that. There was a rumor about one teacher in particular, a divorced man, and this girl in our homeroom. It was just a rumor, though."

"Let me guess. A cheerleader with blond curls and a scrumptious body."

"You know, Ted, if a grown man was interested in a teenage girl, the physical attraction would be only one part of it. No, this girl was a plain, shy wallflower. You know what a man like that is really interested in? An obedient girl. A girl who would worship him. So, let me guess—that teacher, that Jayston, that's what this is about? Who'd he sleep with?"

"Maybe no one. As you said, it's just a rumor."

"Just remember, you owe me an explanation. Anyway, I'd better get a goodnight's sleep—I have a full day tomorrow. Good night, sweetie."

"Good night," he said absently. She hung up, but he was so lost in thought, he found himself several minutes later still holding the receiver.



Tuesday was another sunny day, but still cool enough to merit a jacket. Ted had another full course breakfast at the hotel. It's a good thing he planned to be staying for just a few days, he thought. Sausage and pancakes every morning would go right to his waistline.

Ariadne had said Joan would be around that morning. He drove to the Stone House and parked by what was no doubt Joan's old station wagon in the driveway. Walking to the front door, he heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner. He rang the doorbell, and a moment later the vacuum went off and he heard footsteps coming to the front door. A woman peered at him through the screen.

"Oh my, look who's here!" Joan opened the door. "Come on in." She gave him a hug.

"It's good to see you again, Joan." She had put on a few pounds, and her hair was shot with gray. But her cheerful smile remained.

"Ariadne told me you had showed up and that you'd come around. Come into the kitchen. I was just finishing some vacuuming and then making something for dinner. I make dinner a few nights a week. Ariadne is out sketching somewhere—she does that. And Karen's in school of course. Here, have a seat, and some coffee."

He sat at the butcher block table with a steaming mug, and she began chopping vegetables.

"I make a lamb stew. It's a special favorite of Karen's."

"Ariadne says you've become indispensable here."

"The cabin cleaning job was only summers, of course. Year-round jobs for unskilled labor are kinda hard to find around her. Then Ed and I finally split and I was at loose ends, but Ariadne came back, and then Maxwell got sick, and I sorta went from helping out occasionally to working for Ariadne."

"You take care of her."

"We take care of each other." She got carrots out of the fridge.

"How are your boys?"

"All grown, of course. Ed Junior went to community college, became an X-Ray technician at the hospital. You know who he works with? Mary-Lou, your old girlfriend. She's a nurse there. And Ricky became a fireman in Mohawk Falls."

"It must be nice having them nearby."

"It is. Ed Junior's seeing a nice girl, so who knows?" Ted watched her quickly cut up the carrots, dump them into a pot and get out some celery.

"Did Ariadne tell you what I'm doing here?"

She frowned. "Basically, that you and Penelope have decided to take a look into what happened here 20 years ago." He heard a little edge to her voice. She concentrated on her chopping.

"Sometimes I have dreams about it," said Ted. "There were some questions that kept bugging me." She said nothing. "You weren't there that evening, I know. You were here mostly on weekends, during the day. But I was wondering if maybe you heard anything. You talk to William much?" Joan shook her head.

"He wasn't a talkative type. And I was a little old to sit around listening to him play in my spare time." She smiled at that.

"But Ariadne wasn't."

"That girl needed some looking after. Penelope would try to keep track of her. Mrs. Bretton was really too old by that point and Maxwell was jetting around the country half the time. I figured he moved them up here after their mother died so they'd be less likely to get in trouble here than in New York, but if you're going to get into trouble, you're going to get in trouble anywhere."

"But not Penelope."

Joan thought for a moment. "She frightened me sometimes. Ariadne was what you'd expect from a lively girl, almost 16. But there was something a little too controlled about Penelope. Always polite—but played it close to her chest. You could kid with Ariadne, not with Penelope."

"Yeah, Ariadne was hanging around with us by the beach most nights with the other kids. She was OK."

"And I'm supposed to find that reassuring! But it makes sense. Whenever I came down to the Hall to get cleaning supplies, come to think of it, it seems Ariadne was there playing Ping Pong or listening to William. I used to help Mrs. Bretton clean the this place and she'd complain about Ariadne showing up for dinner at the late, or missing curfew."

She took some meat out of the fridge, and began cubing it. "They were certainly different girls. Remember how we'd occasionally get those brief heat waves, where it wouldn't cool down, even at night? There was one in August…"

"Oh yes," said Ted, and the memory wash over him—swimming at night, instead of making a fire. Mary-Lou slipping sleekly through the water like a minnow. Laurie teasing Vic, saying she wasn't going in until he picked her up and tossed her in off the dock amid her squeals. Then they wrestled in the shallow end by the beach, the girls on the boys' shoulders—Ariadne supported by Matthew's broad back, then taller than everyone on William's. After they got out and dried off, he thought he remembered William playing for them. But did he wander off again?

"…I couldn't even bring myself to cook one night, and anyway, they sent Ed on an overnight delivery, and the boys were spending a few days fishing with my brother at his place, so I figured, what the heck. I put on a bathing suit and drove here that night for a late swim. And as I turned into the resort, I saw Ariadne standing by the all-night light near the upper driveway, braiding her hair. I stopped and called to her and she waved back. Why was I telling that story? Oh yes, you'd never catch Penelope like that, having to race to pull herself together before going home."

"That's for sure," said Ted. "I remember once or twice Penelope fixing Ariadne's hair in the Hall, asking her why her hair kept coming undone and why she—Penelope—could keep it neat all day, and Ariadne whining that she had no idea."

"You never saw Penelope—messy," said Joan. "So it figures, Ariadne trying to fix herself up before facing Penelope." She finished the meat. She likes talking, thought Ted. But he needed to push her.

"You know, I didn't see much of Penelope at all that summer," ventured Ted. "She wasn't down nearly as much as her sister."

"I wouldn't know what she was up to. I was hardly here evenings. That evening swim was a rare exception."

"Why do you think a teenaged girl would rather be cooped up in her room than hang out by the beach? What could've been so interesting?"

Joan dropped a pot lid, and it rang loudly on the tiled floor. She looked at it stupidly, and Ted picked it up and put it back into her hands, which were shaking. After trying to put the lid back on the pot several times, she gave it up and sat down.

"It’s okay," said Ted. "I already know. Ariadne told me. How did you find out?"

"By accident. It was a stupid mistake on Penelope's part. I saw her car outside the house where Nick Jayston roomed. I guess she didn't want to drive that enormous Land Rover so she took one of the Mercedes. Do you know how a Mercedes sticks out in this town?"

"What did you think about it?" he asked.

"Hmm? What?" She seemed confused by the question.

"I mean, were you upset? Angry? Happy for her?"

"That's a good question. Let me think—it was so long ago. I guess I was worried. I hoped he wasn't taking advantage of her. But looking back at it, I don't think that was necessary. I don't see anyone taking advantage of Penelope."

"I'll agree with you there." Joan put the lid firmly on the pot, and continued preparing her stew.

"I guess it ended okay," said Joan. "At least, there were no scenes or scandal. She left for college, and next summer had some sort of summer job with her father's company in New York. I didn't see her much anymore."

Ted looked into the dregs in his mug, and Joan began washing up in the kitchen sink, and loading the dishwasher.

"You loved Penelope, didn't you?" she asked, without turning around.

"I did," he said. "I do."

"Then you won't do anything to hurt her, will you?" She turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"No, I won't. But you can help me with one more item—what happened to the Green Mountain Diner in the village? It used to be cheese sandwiches on stale bread, but I passed by and I see now it's wraps and herbal teas."

Joan laughed, partly in relief. "That's quite a story. Old man Johnston got too old to run it, and his kids, well look at the way they turned out, they weren't interested, but a couple from Burlington…"

When Ted left, the stew was simmering, and Joan gave him a friendly goodbye and told him to come by again.

He looked at his watch. He planned to try to catch Mary-Lou and Laurie that day. He knew from Ariadne they both had school-aged children, so there was a chance they'd be home in the afternoon.

It was still early, so he drove into the village and walked around. It was much smaller and quainter than Fort Bramwell. It had become self-conscious about its small town status, with more wealthy New Yorkers buying summer homes. What had been a glorified junk shop had become an antique store with expensive items. A seedy bar had been remodeled and now advertised weekend champagne brunches. A city person's idea of a small village. Even the old "bait and tackle" that used to advertise itself with a faded and broken sign now proclaimed itself a "Sporting Emporium."

The Twelve Trees Diner where Laurie had worked was only open weekends until the summer, so he tried the refurbished Green Mountain Diner. It not only looked a lot cleaner than when Johnston ran it, the new menus were ornate and, unlike the old ones, blessedly free from grease stains. The waitresses wore frilly outfits they must've loathed, but were cheerful nonetheless.

And three of Ariadne's lake paintings decorated the dining room.

He ordered a turkey wrap, which was delicious, and a diet Coke. As he finished, he saw a woman looking over a pile of receipts at the end of the counter. Ted paid, and walked over to her.

"Are you the owner?" She looked up, with a worried expression.

"Yes…" she said uncertainly.

"I haven't been here since Johnston owned it. You've improved it in every way."

"Oh, thank you." Her face cleared. "With the influx of long-term summer residents, we thought there would be a market for something a little…well more…"

"Nicer," he supplied. "Cleaner. Pleasanter." She laughed.

"I was going to be more diplomatic. But you're right."

"And the decorations are better. Local artist?"

"Oh yes. Ariadne Andrews. We bought these a couple of years ago, and now she's become quite fashionable here. You know, I've never met her. But I think there is something sad about her paintings, don't you?"



Summer, 1986

"Do whatever you want with them, but they better be out of here by the end of the week," said Stanislaus. To indicate the conversation, such as it was, had ended, he walked out of the Hall onto the dock. He sat down on the bench near the rack of canoes and fished a pipe out of a pocket in his utility vest. From another pocket he produced a pouch of tobacco. A few minutes later, Stanislaus was puffing contentedly, and the tangy smell of the pipe drifted across the docks.

The boys didn't notice; they had other things to deal with while mulling over the hot dogs' fate. William resumed his seat by the entrance and launched into his latest musical riff, a selection of Motown standards. Ariadne and a few other girls sat at his feet, drinking Cokes. Ted served a diet Sprite to a mother and an orange Popsicle to her little girl.

"Can I listen to the man play the guitar?" asked the little girl. The mother's eyes ranged over the scene: the shirtless teen, with the shock of hair over one eye, and the serious young women watching him.

"Another time, sweetie. Eat you Popsicle and then I bet Daddy will go swimming with you." They headed to the beach.

Vic and Matthew were meanwhile contemplating Stanislaus's gift, 30 pounds of Tobin's First Prize hotdogs. Stanislaus' friend sold hot dogs from vans in Fort Bramwell, but he had overordered and his freezer was full, so he gave some to Stanislaus, who passed them to the boys. But there was a catch: it was a violation of the health code to store the meat in either the ice cream freezer or soda refrigerator. Stanislaus said he'd overlook it for a few days, but no more.

"We can't get a fraction of these into the cabin fridge," said Vic.

"I can bring some home to my folks," said Matthew. "But Mom isn't that big on hot dogs. I mean, how many are there? We could feed this entire resort."

"Yes, we could," said Vic slowly. "What if had a one-night-only restaurant, fire on the beach, cooking the hot dogs. We have enough tip money to buy rolls, mustard, and so on. We could sell them—Matthew, don't you have a calculator back there…thanks. So if we sold them for…" He punched in some numbers. "The resort is pretty full this week. And by tomorrow everyone will be getting tired of cooking, so we should do just fine." Ted laughed. Matthew smiled and shook his head. "We'll split the profits—we could make a fortune."

"Are we allowed to do that?" asked Matthew. "Don't you need some sort of license to serve food?"

"Stop looking for problems. Do you think the sheriff in Fort Bramwell has nothing better to do than bust us for illegal grilling? You know, if we could sell beer—no that's probably pushing it. But we're already marking up this soda through the roof. Another profit center. William, could you put that damn thing down for one minute?"

William showed a face full of injured innocence. His groupies looked annoyed.

"Have you been following this at all?"

"Yeah, you're cooking hotdogs on the beach. Great."

"I'm putting you in charge of entertainment. I expect you there, playing. Disappear wherever you want to another night. Tomorrow you're on the beach." William stuck his pick in his mouth, saluted, and resumed playing. "Matthew, you're the guy with the car. Can you get to the Grand Union tonight? Rolls, mustard—and sauerkraut. We'll make a list."

"Uhh…sure. I can go tonight."

"Ted, you build the best fires. Can you handle this one?"

"I saw a giant rack in the back. It should fit over he fire. I'll load the hot dogs into those flip grills. And get some ice at the store: we'll load the sodas in the camping coolers." Vic clapped his hands.

"I love it when a plan comes together. Ariadne, you have a job, too." She looked up, surprised. "You're head of advertising."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we draw up a flyer here with magic marker. You xerox them in the office and then distribute them to each cabin."

"Dad's traveling and Penelope would never let me use the xerox machine for something like that."

"Then wait until she steps out or goes to the bathroom or something. Do I have to think of every detail?"

Ariadne's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I want to go shopping with Matthew. And I want a good seat at the barbecue."

"A good seat—"

Ted broke in. "No problem. Reserved seating for you, for any of you who help distribute, near William." The girls looked at each other, trying to gauge if this was a bona fide offer, or if they were being played for suckers. They took their lead from Ariadne. She wasn't the oldest girl, but being the owner's daughter and on familiar terms with the staff gave her a certain status.

"Done. Let's draw something up. I think there are magic markers in the back."

Matthew went back to his machine shop. Ariadne drew up an invitation for an evening hot dog roast as Vic solicited opinions for a shopping list. Ted went to the back to wrestle the giant rack into the open where he could look it over, and commandeer several long-handled flip grills from the camping supplies.

"It looks good, Vic. A little dirty, but nothing we can't scrub off," said Ted, as he carried the grill into the good light by the counter. "We may actually pull this off. By the way, who's the girl in black? I noticed her here days ago and she hasn't left William's side once." It was clear whom he meant: She wore a long black tee shirt over a black bathing suit. She may have thought it looked stylish, but the oversized shirt only served to make her look younger. Lusterless black hair fell loose over her shoulders, her eyes were highlighted with dark makeup, and her pout was apparently permanent.

"I moved her family in last weekend. Her name's Denise Reddy, but when her family showed up at the diner for breakfast, Laurie told me the waitresses nicknamed her 'the zombie.' But to me, she'll always be 'Deady Reddy.'"

"Good one. She's been angling for the number-one groupie title."

"He was hiding behind the tool shed yesterday, but she found him there. He's going to have to be smarter if he wants to lose her." There were more post-lunch sodas and ice creams to sell, and it fell to Ted to handle the rush, with Vic and Ariadne absorbed in their flyer chores.

William just continued to play, and there was a space in the circle around him when Ariadne left. Denise sidled up closer and gazed at him adoringly.