Back to Madeline Island (15 page)

“Are you running away?” I ask, plopping Rocky down on a stool and peeking into the knapsack. “A picnic? In the winter?”

“You look lovely, darling—here, find a corner in there for this,” Ruby says, handing me a corkscrew, wine bottle and two small canning jars. “I thought you'd fallen in up there.”

“I…what the hell?”

“All right, then, you have the task of carrying that one and I'll be totting along with this.” She slings one of my huge totes over her shoulder; it makes all sorts of sounds, like pots and containers banging together.

“Follow me,” Ruby orders and heads to the basement door. She opens it, snaps on the light and starts down. Rocky zooms on ahead, dashing in between her legs. She hardly notices, a woman on a mission. I fling the knapsack onto my shoulder; the weight of it throws me off balance at first.

“What the hell's in here?” I ask and get no reply.

“Are you coming?” Ruby yells up the stairs and I trot down.

She's already busy opening the wine closet door. Heading to the back, she unlatches the false wall, snaps on more lights and off she goes down the steps into the passage that leads to the boathouse. We can hear Rocky make one of his horrible “I'm gunna get you” noises and Ruby slows down for me to catch up with her.

“No sense in rushing.” Ruby sidles up with me. “Wonder what in the world Rocky could possibly find way down here.”

“I certainly don't want to know—are you going to tell me what you're up to?”

A smile breaks along Ruby's lipsticked lips. “You'll see soon enough.”

We struggle with the huge wooden door that opens to the back of the boathouse, but it finally squeaks open along its rusted track. Single file, we continue traipsing along the ledge that leads over to the spiral staircase. Up we clamber, I push up the trap door, give the secret closet back a nudge and voilà—we're in the office down at the boathouse.

“It sure stays nice and cozy up here,” I mention, walking into the kitchen area and unloading my tote onto the countertop.

“Does seem to. How about putting on some music and I'll put things in order here.” Ruby starts pulling all sorts of goodies from the knapsack. A red-and-white-checked tablecloth is unfurled onto the round table in the corner. She pulls several candles out, lights them and then begins setting things out.

I root around in the growing collection of CDs we have and put on Etta James; “The Very Thought of You” oozes around the room. Then I walk over to my cutting table and run my hands over all the colorful fabric stacked neatly on the shelves that Howard made from old shutters. The deer head has a loose end of the phone cord hanging out of its mouth. Reaching up, I pull the jaw down and the cord snaps inside.

Walking over to check on what Ruby's up to, I notice she's set the table for four, and before I can ask, the boys come lumbering up the stairs and burst through the door, bringing cold, winter air along.

“Hey, ladies!” Howard gives us each a cold kiss. “What a beautiful night. You can see some truly amazing star formations.”

Johnny shakes out of his fur-lined parka and comes over to my side. “What's shaking—hey, Eve, you okay?” He plops an arm over my shoulders and I sniffle.

“She's had a bit of shocking news,” Ruby says, pouring wine into four canning jars. “I thought having supper with”—she hands everyone a glass—“our dear friends might cheer her a bit, hmm?”

I grin. “To my dear friends.” We lift and clink our jars. “Here's the deal. I just found out, from Larry, who used to be my dad—that my mother had an affair and I'm a bastard.”

Johnny chokes on his wine; Howard gulps his down in one fell swoop. They look from me to Ruby for a clue.

“You really must stop using that word,” Ruby admonishes me with a shrug. “It seems her father, Larry, that is, has taken it upon himself to unburden years of deceit and shed a family secret. Namely that Eve's mother, out of sheer loneliness, chose a mysterious lover and became—”

“Knocked up with me!” I finish. “My perfect mom. My perfect
Catholic
mom, Donna Reed's evil twin sister.”

“Since,” Ruby adds, ignoring my last comment, “Larry seems to
not
know the identity of Eve's biological father, it's up to us and hopefully Eve's Aunt Vivian—to find him.”

“Wow,” Howard says, raking a hand through his silver mane. “And you had no idea?”

“My dad was always very, well, he was remote and at the university most of the time, and when he was home, oh, I don't know…”

“I've left a message with Vivian,” Ruby says. “Apparently she and Eve's mum were chummy. Perhaps she'll know who this man was. But really”—Ruby's voice becomes gentle—“does it really matter? I mean, darling, look around you. Look at all you've created and the wonderful life we have and—such lovely friends.”

I nod my head as a single tear slips down my cheek.

Then, in a flurry of color and more noise than you can imagine, Rocky flies into the room with a squirming rat hanging from his mouth! He rushes over and flops it down in the middle of our circle. This is really a
huge
rat. We're dashing all over, jumping up on chairs and calling Rocky any number of nasty names. Howard chases after the rat as it scurries into the bathroom. Seconds later we hear the flush of the toilet.

He comes back into the front room with a satisfied look on his face. “Anyone need to use the potty?”

I
'm up on a ladder in the living room, trying to figure out how in the world this bobcat is attached to the rafter. Since it's snowing like mad outside, we've decided to take down most (hopefully all) of the stuffed animals that have graced the living room walls, rafters and ceiling of the cottage for years. Too many, if you ask me.

“
Do
be careful, darling,” Ruby cautions from down below. “I've never understood the concept of taxidermy. Of course, Wisconsin had a fellow who enjoyed making lampshades out of human body parts. Imagine.”

“Hand me that hammer,” I say. “Thanks…this thing is
covered
with dust—good God—whoever put it up here—there—got it. Watch out below!”

The dusty, spiderweb-coated bobcat, frozen forever in a “leaping lightly” pose, lands with a thud onto the growing pile of ancient animal parts. We've decided they all have to go. We offered them to the boys, but they said, “No way, sister!” Sam and Lilly just raised their respective eyebrows and suggested a nice big fire. Even the local museum in LaPointe already has too many stuffed things, so off to the barn with them.

“We're nearly done,” Ruby says, not a lick of dust on her.

I come down the ladder, bend way over and shake my curls over the pile. Then I pick a rather long black hair off my lips, ugh.

“You know,” I say knowingly, “while we're into this, would you consider packing up the relatives?” I point to the line of framed pictures that start at one end of the room and circle around and then march up the wall along the stairs and continue on down the hallway. We're talking a lot of pictures here.

“I've looked at them for so awfully long, I no longer even
see
them.” She heads over to have a look at one. “I never considered, but why in the
world
keep them up, looking at us this way and that, why…none of these are even from this century! And not a
one
is of anyone related to me, and certainly not you. Oh, this is what's needed here.” She reaches up and begins taking them down, handing them to me, of course.

“I'm feeling a little guilty, though.” I set down a stack and return to Ruby's side. “These are the history of this cottage and—”

“Don't you jolly well think,” Ruby says with zest, “that perhaps it's time we put up pictures of
our
history, hmm?”

“I—well—you know…we've got all sorts of shots from our apron business, what with the stuff on the website from that parade, and I do have some stuff of my folks.”

“
Those
are what belong on these walls.” Ruby sneezes so hard she drops the framed picture she was about to hand to me, and it smashes into a million pieces. “Oh drat. What a klutz I am.”

“That's odd.” I pull the big black-and-white picture from the broken shards and look at it closer. “I recognize Gustave and Adeline sitting in what looks like some kind of a club, but look behind them—in between all the tables is our cabaña bar, and aren't the lamps on the tables like—”

“Give me that.” Ruby takes the picture from me, puts her bifocals on and peers into it. Then she looks around. “This
is
rather odd, and I hadn't noticed how we have so many of the same lamps about—not that that's odd, I should think—who doesn't have several of the same lamp, for heaven's sake.”

“True, but these look…” I move to an end table and study the stylish lamp with its elaborate stained-glass shade. I click it on. Among lily pads and cattail are the very same smiling toad as the one down at the end of the hallway.

“There's five in here,” I say, perplexed. “I've got one next to my bed and I know there's a couple in the library and—”

“I have two on either side of my bed as well.” Ruby comes over next to me. “I've simply not taken notice, can you imagine?”

I turn the lamp this way and that. “These things are heavy; look, there's a tiny plaque in the back way down on the bottom of the base here.” We both squat down to have a look. “It's like a nameplate or—” I give it a good rubbing. “Toad Tea Tavern.”

“There's something odd about this photo.” Ruby stands and holds the picture up to the light. “Why, look—I can see the outline of something, perhaps a map or…”

I look up; the back of the photo is facing me. “You'd make a
great
detective—turn the damn thing over!”

She does and then gasps. “I'll be—a map!”

 

“We really need to dress warm,” I caution. “Wish we could enclose the duck somehow.” I pull on a second sweater and then take my coat down from the back of the door in the kitchen.

“We only need to mention it to Sam and Lilly and I should think they'll think of something,” Ruby says, cinching her tailored camel coat tight and then pulling on a fluffy hat with matching gloves. “Good thing Howard was able to figure out the heater in there, though.”

“I believe it was Sam who figured it out. Bye, Rocky.”

We each give him a good scratch before making a dash for the barn. I hit the big green button and the huge doors envelope into each other. I hop in and pull the duck out while Ruby waits for me to clear the door, then she climbs up the ladder and plops down beside me. I head us down the sloping hill, passing by the boathouse and out onto the lake we go.

“Should have some heat in a second here,” I say. “How about finding a good station on this thing.”

Ruby turns the stereo on, and since it's
way
loud from my being in here last time, we both yelp due to the blaring static that shoots out and then chuckle. I like it loud sometimes. She finds our favorite public radio station: WPR, Wisconsin Public Radio.

“I can't believe it,” I say in disbelief. “It's that Garrison Keillor
singing
again!”

“I should
hardly
call that singing. Good heavens—
I
can do better.” I shoot her a doubtful look. “Smart alec—how 'bout this.” She shoves in a tape and the group called Aria gushes their operatic jazz out of the speakers. “Much better.” Ruby snaps open her purse and checks her perfect lips in a little mirror.

“Ah, the heat has arrived,” I announce and tap the horn twice. “Look—don't we know that guy over there?”

There's a bearded man carrying a ladder along the shore in front of his enormous “home,” more of a lodge. Some of the places out here are so big it's laughable. The sad thing is that most of them stand empty nine months out of the year.

“Can't recall his name.” Ruby gives him a wave. “I believe he runs a business from his cottage; Northwestern Coffee or some such name, handsome fellow.”

“Strange business to be operating out here.”

“And aprons are
normal
?”

“I guess—hey, did you bring the address of the place selling Christmas trees? I forgot to grab it. Sam said they have some beauties and I want to get garlands for the banister and should we have a tree for the boathouse, too?”

“Well of
course
, darling. It'll be lovely. You know, I haven't the slightest idea of what to get you for Christmas.”

“Oh for God's sake, Ruby, are you crazy? I have everything I need—'cept…”

“I'm all ears.”

“I would kill for a—smoke,” I offer and could kick myself for admitting it, but God, I miss that cancer-causing stuff. I do! (Pathetic, huh.)

“Well, why wait 'til Christmas then, eh?” Faster than you can say “black lung,” she's pulled out two cigarettes from her slim silver case, lit them and placed one between my lips.

“You little…” I inhale and feel that…hate to admit this, but it's such a comforting buzz. “How long have you been—never mind, how 'bout taking those Reese's Peanut Butter Cups out of the ashtray; no sense in ashing all over good chocolate.”

“None
I
can see.” Ruby pops open the huge mega ashtray and there are the two butts I left there. Oh shit, busted. Ruby lifts one up, observing the bright red lipstick mark.

“You
horrid
little sneak.”

“I, um…oh hell.”

Ruby tilts her head back and belts out a good cackle and then I do the same. I put the duck in neutral until the tears stop.

“Damn that felt good.” I check my eyes in Ruby's little mirror. “Now let's get over to Bayfield.” I slip the duck into gear and once again—we're off!

“I left a message with the boys.” Ruby raises her voice over the roar of the motor. “I let them know just a bit of our map discovery. I'm sure they'll be eager to join us.”

“That old place sure has a lot of secrets—hey—did you get ahold of Auntie Vivian?”

“I've not known quite how to approach this, darling,” Ruby offers and my stomach takes a lurch. “But since I know you prefer things…straight up, as you say, well…she's in a nursing home and I'm not so sure she knows, well, that she's even
in
a nursing home.”

“Damn it all to hell!” I smack the steering wheel and accidentally hit the horn again. We're just passing a ferry so about twenty people wave to us. If this were summer, there'd be more like a hundred or so riding over.

“Wave and smile, darling.”

We wave and zoom on by to the City Marina. Bayfield has taken on a storybook feeling, what with all the snow and the decorations hanging from each and every lamppost. The town really does a nice job in the decorating department, even though there aren't too many people around to admire it.

“Head over to Maggie's,” Ruby suggests. “The Christmas trees are being sold across the street from the restaurant, where the farmers' market is all summer long.”

“Sure.” I swing the duck on down Manypenny Avenue. “After we get all our trimmings and trees and all, how about you buying me lunch?”

“Would be my pleasure—well, I suppose it will be
your
pleasure, seeing as you're lunching with the likes of me.”

I shake my head. “Look at all those beautiful trees,” I say, parking on a little side street. “Let's get us some Christmas!”

There's holiday music blasting out of huge speakers hanging off the side of a tiny yellow trailer surrounded by a forest of trees in all shapes and sizes. The smell is wonderful, all piney, mixed with smoke from nearby fireplaces. A tall, bearded man approaches us. He's dressed in a red-and-black checked coat, and a pipe rests in the corner of his generous mouth, giving him a very sporty look.

Grinning, he says, “Afternoon, ladies.” He lifts his captain-style cap slightly. “Know what kind of tree yur lookin' for or would you enjoy a tour?” His blue eyes twinkle.

“Oh, we want the tour,” I offer. Ruby rolls her eyes. “'Course, not if it costs extra.”

“Don't cost a thing. Follow me…now these trees right here are your white pine—soft needles and lots of room for ornaments; this here is a balsam fir; these all along this aisle are Scotch pine—kind of an old-fashioned-looking tree, if you ask me. This row's Douglas fir with some Fraser fir on the end there, I've also got ten-and twenty-foot garlands, compliments of yours truly, and wreaths from the standard two-foot diameter on up to ten, or I can make one as large as you might need, say, for over your fireplace, if you have one, that is.”

“We've got a huge one, and boy, does it heat things up.” I'm the one heating up here.

“Nothing more inviting than a fire,” he adds and looks really deeply into my eyes.

Are my knees knocking or are we having an earthquake? What is it about men who are a little on the rough side? He's probably one of those fixer-upper types.

“We'll just poke around and let you know when we've made up our minds.”

“I'll be waiting,” he says and then ambles off to chat with another couple.

“Eve Moss, your horns are showing.”

I absently reach up to my hair, think better of it and give Ruby a smack on her shoulder. “Let's find some trees.”

Ruby lights up and offers me one. “I wonder what Sam's going to say when she finds out I've gone and forced this wretched habit on the both of us.”

“She'll ask to bum one. Now c'mon.”

 

We're seated in a cozy booth inside the warmth of Maggie's restaurant. Our waitress has just plunked down two mugs of hot coffee and menus.

“I simply can't get
over
that tree man,” Ruby repeats. “I don't recall
ever
seeing you so flustered—it was marvelous.”

“Even though the guy's
so
tall—and I'm not partial to beards—but
damn
he's fine.”

“Perhaps we should have taken him up on his offer to deliver.” Ruby blows her coffee and smiles like the devil. “I found him
terribly
charming.”

“How about looking at your menu already, huh?”

He is the first guy I've felt like this about, you know, like you can't breathe and your heartbeat is all crazy and the old fire starts to crackle. God, I'm not dead after all. Hmm.

“Let's order these Garlic Polenta Fries for starters,” Ruby suggests. “Then I'm going to give their Spicy Thai Noodles a try and perhaps even splurge and order some of this Mexican Tortilla Soup—sounds divine. What a lovely menu.”

“You
are
hungry and all you did was
point
out there.”

“Takes a great deal of know-how to choose just the right tree, you know, darling. I didn't mean to be so darn picky—having that delicious man turn so many trees this way and that, but you must admit, he did it with such a jolly smile and didn't seem to notice
me
one bit.”

“I'm going for their Flamingo Chicken Sandwich, a bowl of the soup you're ordering and maybe a Mixed Baby Greens Salad and the tree man for dessert,” I add and we giggle and then clink our coffee mugs.