Clam Wake (3 page)

“Yes. My contribution is all smoke and mirrors. If I tell them my design concept conveys their message to shareholders or customers or wombats, they believe me. By now, I've got street cred. Those bozos in the corner offices don't know a concept from a contraceptive. Well . . . they might know that, but you get what I'm saying.”

“After spending fifteen minutes with Auntie Vance, I'm not sure I get what
I'm
saying,” Judith admitted. “Okay. I'll check the ferry schedule. I have one here for guests. I'll pick you up at ten tomorrow.”

“Ten?” Renie shrieked. “I won't be awake at ten. Make it eleven.”

“Fine. If we have to wait in line for three ferries, it's your fault.”

“I'm willing to take that risk,” Renie said. “Oh, no! Mom's calling me. Maybe Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince stopped off to give her some clams, too, and Mom knows we're leaving town. You know what that means—I'll get a dozen calls a day from her asking if I've been swept away by a tsunami or devoured by giant geoducks. Bye.” Renie hung up.

Judith had no sooner put down the phone when Gertrude wheeled herself through the back door. “What's wrong with you?” she demanded, putting on the brakes just short of running over her daughter's left foot. “Have you made chowder yet? My lunch was kind of skimpy.”

“I haven't had time to clean the clams,” Judith said. “I was just about to do it. We'll have chowder for dinner.”

“Make enough for my lunch tomorrow, too,” Gertrude ordered, ignoring Sweetums, who was weaving in and out under the motorized wheelchair. “Or did Arlene and Carl get clams, too?”

“They did,” Judith replied as Phyliss reappeared via the dining room. “Maybe she'll bring theirs over here.”

Phyliss wrinkled her nose. “Clams are ungodly. Did you ever hear of our Lord multiplying the loaves and the clams? He wouldn't bother.”

Gertrude took umbrage. “You ever hear about the nectar of God? That was clam nectar. Guess you never read the Bible.”

Phyliss stiffened, clutching her cleaning rag as if she were trying to shred it. Or planning to wrap it around Gertrude's neck. “You think I never read the Bible? Are you crazy? I read it every day. I never heard of any such thing. Or is that in your weird Catholic Bible?”

Gertrude was undeterred. “That's right. It's what the apostles drank when they played bingo. Kept 'em really juiced.”

Phyliss dropped the rag and put her hands over her ears. “Blasphemy! I won't listen to another word!” She rushed back through the dining room, oblivious to Sweetums, who was right behind her.

Gertrude laughed. “I know how to shut up that crazy old bat.
You
try to reason with her. Trust me, kiddo, it can't be done.”

“You shouldn't tease Phyliss,” Judith said. “Someday she might really get mad and quit. I don't know what I'd do without her.”

Gertrude was still chuckling. “I know what
I
can do with her—and that's get her goat. Hey, at my age I need to have a little fun now and then. And yes, I do know it's ‘nectar of the gods.' One of those Greek myth things, if what's left of my memory still works.”

“Your memory works just fine when you want it to,” Judith said, picking up the rag that Phyliss had dropped. “I suppose you're looking forward to having Carl and Arlene here.”

“You bet. They treat me right.”

Judith looked down at her mother. “And I don't?”

“That depends,” Gertrude replied. “Are we playing bridge tonight?”

“I have to ask Renie and Aunt Deb if they can come.”

“As annoying as Deb can be, she's not as lippy as Vance. As for my dingbat niece, she's a decent cardplayer, but don't tell her I said that. Fact is, compared to Serena, you're kind of mealy-mouthed. You may look like me, but she speaks her mind more like I do. Don't tell her that either. She might get swellheaded.”

“I won't,” Judith promised.

“Okay.” Gertrude revved up her wheelchair. “In that case, I'll go back to my so-called cardboard box of an apartment and start marking the cards. See you in the funny papers.” She rolled off, just as Sweetums meandered out of the dining room before streaking through the kitchen and down the hall.

Two of a kind
, her mother and the cat. Both were old and ornery, but still lovable.

T
here was no bridge game that Thursday night. Judith ended up with an unexpected party of four at the last minute. Two couples from Santa Barbara had arrived at a B&B across the ship canal only to discover there was a power outage in the neighborhood and no word on how long it would last.

Meanwhile, Renie had flat-out rejected the cardplaying get-together because she wanted to finish another annual report project before leaving town. Aunt Deb couldn't make it because some old friends had dropped in unexpectedly from the eastern part of the state and stayed on for dinner. Gertrude was disappointed, but Judith consoled her by promising to bring back some of her favorite chocolates from the candy store on Whoopee Island.

By the time Judith had taken care of her guests' needs, made dinner, consulted with the Rankerses, played three games of cribbage with Gertrude, checked her larder, packed a suitcase, discovered Sweetums hiding under the kitchen sink, and listened to her mother's lecture about not picking up sailors on the island, it was going on midnight. She dragged herself up to bed, but couldn't settle down. She wondered if Joe and Bill had arrived in Auckland. Trying to figure out the time changes finally put her to sleep.

Morning came too soon. Routine was the only thing that got Judith through serving breakfast. She put herself on autopilot, wearing a smile she hoped didn't look like it belonged to a robot and praying that her natural empathy for people would come through. Apparently, it did. The guests all seemed cheerful—except Jack Larrabee, of course.

Arlene arrived just after ten thirty. “You told me you wanted to leave before eleven,” she said, slipping out of her all-weather jacket. “Have the departing guests checked out?”

“All but a reporter named Larrabee who should be coming down shortly,” Judith replied. “He's moving on up north today.”

“How far north?” Arlene inquired, looking suspicious.

“Uh . . . I'm not sure, but eventually he'll go to a couple of cities in British Columbia. He's writing a newspaper series for people who want to visit our part of the world.”

Arlene's blue eyes danced. “Wonderful! I love to see the tourists come to town. I always tell them this is the best city to visit while they're on vacation. Did you tell him about the recent measles epidemic?”

“Darn. I left that out. You'll get your chance with him. Don't forget the bicyclists who think they own the streets, yet ignore traffic laws.”

Arlene nodded. “The two-wheeled assassins. Yes, I could hardly omit them. What about the tolls on the floating bridge? When the bridges don't sink, of course.”

“I forgot that, too. You're going to have quite a list.”

Arlene's pretty face lit up. “Oh, I can think of so many things! Most of our streets have lumps, potholes, and cracks. Those huge cranes that occasionally collapse at all the construction sites, the dangerous old viaduct, the changes with no warning when a one-way street suddenly becomes a two-way . . . Goodness, I could go on forever.”

Judith gripped Arlene's shoulder. “If anybody can do it, you can.
I'm
going now.”

“Just hope the ferry doesn't run into a smaller boat or go aground . . . again,” Arlene called after her. “Have a wonderful trip!”

Judith felt more alert after driving her Subaru over the top of the hill and halfway down the north side to Renie's house. She honked twice in front of the Joneses' Dutch colonial. And waited. She honked again. Another minute passed before she decided to see if knocking would rouse her cousin. But as Judith started to turn off the ignition, Renie staggered onto the porch, managed to let the storm door slam her halfway back inside, cussed a blue streak, dropped her keys, and scrambled around to pick them up by the milk box. When she finally fell into the passenger seat, she was panting.

“Stupid mornings,” she muttered. “I hate them. They come too damned early.”

Judith waited to speak until they were crossing the old stone bridge above the gully. “Have you heard from Bill yet?” she asked.

“Bill who?” Renie growled.

“Your husband.”

“Are you kidding? He hates the phone. What's wrong with this seat belt? It's busted.”

Judith braked at the six-way stop before making the loop to the main drag that led to the freeway. “You're putting it in backward.”

“Oh.” Renie finally clicked herself in. “What about Joe?”

“Nothing yet. Maybe they'll wait until they get to the fishing resort. What took you so long to come to the door?”

“I had to say good-bye to Oscar. He's miffed because he didn't get to go to New Zealand. Frankly, he's not a good traveler. Bill decided not to take him anywhere after we went to Vegas and he had Oscar sit next to him at the blackjack table. The little twerp wouldn't let go of the silver dollar Bill gave him. It caused quite a scene when—”

“Stop. Please. I was just getting into a good mood for a change. I don't want to hear any more anecdotes about your stuffed ape.”

Renie folded her arms across her chest and pouted briefly. “You might at least ask about Clarence.”

“Okay,” Judith agreed. “He's a real live animal. Who's caring for your bunny?”

“A De Rosario grandkid from around the corner. Clarence is fairly self-sufficient. He puts himself to bed at night, you know.”

“Very clever of him,” Judith allowed for the sake of peace while she maneuvered into a steady stream of northbound traffic.

The cousins both were silent until they reached the freeway. Judith had thought it best to allow time for Renie to regain complete consciousness. Otherwise, they might get into an argument that would set the trip off on a wrong note.

It was Renie who finally spoke while Judith maneuvered around heavy northbound traffic. “I'm not sure I understood the issue with the homeowners at Obsession Shores. Is it a vote on whether or not to put in a sewer system instead of septic tanks?”

“That sounds right to me,” Judith agreed. “Of course there are probably some personality clashes involved.”

“We've met a couple of the neighbors over the years,” Renie said. “Dick and Jane Sedgewick come to mind. Did Auntie Vance mention them?”

“No. Maybe they're part of the snow-bird group that goes to California or Arizona this time of year. Oh—the Friedmans. Sarah and Mel, right? They live close to the beach.”

“Yes, cute gabled cottage.” Renie didn't speak again until they'd passed the city limits. “I'm trying to remember the name of that couple Auntie Vance didn't like. They live across the road and always shoo the deer over to her garden to nibble on the rosebushes.”

Judith nodded. “The Leonettis. I don't know if I ever heard their first names. Auntie Vance always called them something unprintable.”

“She calls a lot of people names like that,” Renie said, “including most of us in the family. At least we know she loves us. In the Leonettis' case, venom is in her voice.”

“The Bennetts,” Judith blurted. “That name just came back to me. They started out as summer people, but moved to the island when he retired. I don't remember much about them except that they lived directly below Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince.”

Renie grew thoughtful. “He owned his own company. For some reason, I remember that. What was it . . . ?” She finally shook her head. “Some kind of manufacturing, but I don't recall what they made.”

“Trouble?” Judith said.

“I hope not. Once we cast our votes tonight, I assume we
could
head home tomorrow.”

Judith glanced at Renie. “Do you really want to do that? I'd like to stay through the weekend. It's been three years since Joe and I took Mike and his family to the island. The grandkids loved it. Besides, I figure Auntie Vance will want a full report of reactions to the voting results and the meeting itself.”

“Probably,” Renie agreed. “If we do that, we should wait to go back Monday morning. Ferry traffic Sunday night can be ugly. It's a short crossing, but they don't have superferrys on the route.”

Judith signaled for the turn off the freeway that would lead them to the dock. “We might as well stay in the car,” she said.

“Not me. I'm going up to get popcorn. I'm hungry.”

“Fine.”

They lapsed into silence until they were in the lane that led to the terminal. They noticed a security officer with a sniffer dog going from car to car, a precaution that had begun after the tragic events of 9/11. Man and dog passed by them with only a glance. And presumably a sniff.

A ferry was heading into the dock. Judith surveyed the half-dozen lanes of vehicles waiting to go aboard. “We're lucky. We'll make this one.”

“It's not yet noon,” Renie remarked, checking her watch. “The rush will be on a little later. You sure you got the right senior fare for us?”

“How could I get the wrong one?”

“Just asking. If I'm getting old, I want my perks.”

“It isn't as if there are two different rates for seniors. You expect ‘old' and ‘really old'?”

“As a matter of fact,” Renie said, “I suspect that'll happen the way people are living so long. You do realize that there are now two generations of so-called seniors. Everybody fusses about the baby boomers gobbling up all the Social Security. They should work longer.”

“What about young people looking for jobs?” Judith asked in a reasonable voice.

“Most of them don't know what they want to major in, assuming they're going to college. Why not a one- or two-year public-service requirement for both sexes? Why doesn't anybody except me have good ideas?”