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“I truly am sorry about Vivian, darling. Pity, the poor dear hasn't a clue any longer. I spoke with her attendant briefly, telling her a tiny white lie—me being a relative from abroad and all. Perhaps there's someone else we could ask?”

“No.” I think for a moment. “Dad made it pretty clear Mom kept it a secret. I mean she didn't even tell
him,
for God's sake. I can't imagine what it must have been like for him.”

“Does seem such a burden…yet, you know, it's perhaps not all that unusual. I mean, if you consider it more or less an adoption—what am I saying—your mum had an affair and perhaps your father was the reason, does it matter? I mean, I suppose it
would
be nice to know just exactly who your
real
father is, but if you can't, well, I hope you're prepared for that.”

“I am, I am,” I sigh heavily. “Helen's going to think I'm nuts. Here I hauled her all the way to Altoona to meet a man I always thought was my dad and he never was, not
really
anyway.”

“I'd say, darling, we do the
best
we can with what's in front of us and he
was
your father for all practical purposes, after all.”

The waitress sets our artfully garnished plates down in front of us.

“I'm going to do better than the best with this.” I slurp a spoonful of soup. “Oh my God, this is
so best
.”

“Smart alec. You choke over there and you're on your own.”

O
n my cue, Ruby turns down Barbra Streisand belting out “White Christmas.”

“Since today is a non-yoga-bellydance day,” I announce to the sewing crew, “and we're totally caught up on our orders”—I look over to Howard and he nods in agreement—“we have a little
adventure
in mind.”

“Don't you have a little
confessing
,” Sam suggests dryly, then laughs. “Not that I been all
smoke-free
myself.”

“I—ah—” I am so busted here. “Well, hell—we couldn't take it any longer, and yes, Ruby and I are once again—lighting up.” I say “lighting up” really softly; how embarrassing.

“I'm really trying to quit for good,” Lilly says, lifting her sleeve. “I'm sick to death of chewing that gum and now I suppose I'm just as addicted to this patch here, but
shoot
, my house never smelled better.”

“She's got a point there,” Sam adds. “Now Eve honey, speaking of points, what's this man with a beard I see coming at you?”

I turn a deep red. “He's the man you told me about who sells Christmas trees and—”

“He's got the best buns in town!” Lilly bursts out, and then covers her mouth. “Now where'd that come from?”

“Um-hmm.” Sam chuckles. “There's no woman in or near Bayfield don't know about him. He's hot as tar on asphalt and him being married
and
a white man don't seem to make a lick of difference far as I'm concerned either.” She chuckles, raises her eyebrows and then chuckles some more as this month's Chippendale calendar stud is a very black man with a very huge—item.

“Howard and I,” Johnny says, “have only
heard
of the ‘tree stud.' Now I know where we're going to shop for ours.”

Wouldn't you know? Married. Well, to be honest, it's reassuring knowing the old juices are still heat-up-able, and really, when would I ever have time for…Who am I kidding here; it's not “tree stud” that's the issue here; it's the simple realization that I sincerely
don't
want a relationship. I suppose, if I were younger, sex would be more important, but now? Funny how things change; as you get
wiser
, I'm learning—that I have a lot to learn.

“God—this place gets so small in the winter.” I clear my throat. “Now, as I was saying before that little diversion, Ruby and I found this.” I hand the map to Lilly. “It's part of an entire operation that used to go on right here underneath this very building.”

“Toad Tea,” Lilly comments. She takes her bifocals down from her hair and studies the map. “You know, I have an old Toad Tea bottle I put flowers in. I've just always loved the label and now I know where I've seen this. That huge stained-glass window in your hallway—well, I'll be.”

“Now—” I put my cutting shears down. “Where we're headed might be a bit chilly, so get your coats and follow me.”

The girls take their coats down from the row of old doorknobs Howard recently put up along the wall for our coats. Ruby tosses me my wrap and sends me a wink. Johnny helps Lilly with her enormous long wool coat. I've really taken to wearing shawls; adds a little drama to
any
outfit. I toss a corner of it over my shoulder and smack Howard in the face. See?

I lead the troops back into the office.

“Where in the world?” Lilly asks.

“These folks been keeping a secret in their closet,” Sam chuckles. There are really no secrets from her.

“Who hasn't?” Johnny adds and we all laugh.

I turn to face the group. “Before we opened our doors and officially became Ruby's Aprons, we had to clean this joint up. It had been a long time since anyone had been in here, and besides, we really had no need for a guest house—anyway—I had asked Ruby where the furnace was, since, as you can see”—I point to the floor—“there are vents, but no furnace up here. So the search began. It eventually led us to—”

On cue, Ruby slides open the closet door, pulls the chain so we can see in there and then gives the back wall a gentle push. The false wall snaps open. She reaches in and flicks a switch. (We planned this out for dramatic purposes; so far Lilly's eyes are popping and Sam just grins.)

I lean over inside the small room and lift up a trap door; the girls ooh and ahh.

“Now watch your step as this spiral staircase is rather narrow,” I caution and head down.

Everyone is now standing in a cluster in front of the whirring furnace; its vents and tubes reach for the ceiling, making it look as though it's doing a dance. Reaching around it, I snap on more lights.

“Lordie,” Lilly says, “I've read about places like this, but have never even seen a picture of one. So the entire boathouse has water underneath it all the time—I'll be.”

Ruby clears her throat and puts on her lecturer hat, one of her favorites, I might add. “My late husband's grandfather, Gustave Prévost—as you know, he was the founder of this cottage—made a small fortune in the trucking business. During prohibition, he created
Toad Tea
. How it worked was late in the night, this wall in front of us was opened by that motor above, similar to the door system up at the barn. You would motor in your boat all the way back here, close the outside door that leads to Lake Superior and unload the booze into that room over there—shall we?”

Ruby hands Howard the toad key and he and Johnny lead the group to the back of the small room.

“Stay single file,” Howard cautions. “I bet that water is freezing cold and I for one am not up for a dip.”

“Whoever made this here ledge we're creeping along on,” Sam says, “they sure didn't have my hips in mind.”

“Check this key out.” Johnny offers it to Lilly and Sam. “That Gustave thought of every little detail, huh?”

“A little toad head—Lordie,” Lilly says for the hundredth time and then hands it back.

“Behind this door…” Ruby picks up the story while the boys give it a good noisy shove. It finally opens. “Is where the booze was—well, is—stored until they moved it on to other hiding places, or bottled it. We're not clear if it was ever bottled here, but we're about to find out, I should think.”

Stepping up the metal staircase, I reach around the corner in order to snap on more switches. The storeroom fills with light from the old-fashioned steel hooded lights mounted high in the ceiling. On either side of the wall, stacked several high, are the huge wooden barrels I mentioned earlier.

“My, my.” Sam heads over to one for a closer look. “All this booze down here, all this space, must have been caves at one time. Look how the ceiling is solid rock up there.”

Everyone cranes their neck to have a gander.

“Now,” I say, “according to this map—”

“I suppose,” Sam interrupts, “that hallway in the back leads to your basement up to the cottage then? I seen Miss Eve go back in the office one time and then, when I went back there to ask her something or other, no Eve to be found. Clever woman.”

“Very true,” I add and continue. “If we go over here, behind
this
row of barrels—hmm, it's just wall.”

“Let me see, darling.” Ruby takes the map from me, turns it completely around and then hands it back with an impatient harrumph.

“Oh—well—in that case…” I rap my knuckles on the last barrel that's wedged tight to the wall. “Doesn't sound like the rest, sounds empty.”

“Look here, girl.” Sam points to an edge that runs all along the side of the barrel. “Seems like it's been cut right in half and then—”

“Notice the floor there.” Howard comes forward, pointing down. “It seems worn a bit, doesn't it?”

“Oh for
pity's
sake.” Ruby points to a place on the map and then taps her polished nail on the very same metal plaque right smack in the center of the barrel, about five feet up from the floor. “It's the same on all those lamps we've up at the cottage.”

“Maybe you just press it,” I offer and do. “Holy shit.” The entire group says shit together. (I'm not kidding.)

The barrel, which, if you haven't figured out yet, is actually a door. As it opens, a damp odor of stale air washes out and over us.

I step forward, and then turn to face the group. “Does anyone have a flashlight?”

“I have one of these.” Howard hands me his key ring, clicking on a powerful light hanging from it. “I just changed the batteries, too.”

“My hero,” Johnny says.

“This is so exciting,” Lilly lisps.

“Let's go,” I offer and head across the threshold. “There's a wall of switches right here.” I snap on several.

“Look what we got here.” Sam steps past me and begins to wander around. “A regular jazz joint—right here.”

The crew comes in and starts to explore. The room is several times as big as the boathouse. I'm terrible at dimensions, but the ceiling goes up a good twenty, maybe twenty-five, feet. There's a girder system that runs crisscross up there, looks like some kind of support or something. About six ceiling fans are attached to it, too; the brass blades are now a patinated green color. They slowly spin in the air. I must have turned them on.

A beautifully carved wooden bar curves along the length of one entire wall; beveled mirrors reflect back the room, making it seem far larger. Twenty, maybe thirty, small round tables and lots of chairs are stacked against the opposite wall. You can make out the outline of a lily-pad-shaped dance floor in front of a half-circle stage that juts out from a corner. Dark velvet curtains hang and then sweep and swirl over and all around the stage area.

“Just imagine,” Ruby gushes. “All the sophisticated people who must have come here. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if all those pictures we just took down from the living room have other secrets inside them.”

“It's like Father Time just left this all for us to find,” Sam says, standing up on the stage. “There's all kinds of energy in this room. I feel a powerful connection; I just can't get clear on it.”

“Oh, I
do
hope it's not something
horrid
or dead or involves
bones
,” Ruby says, pulling her coat around her. “I'm so over boxes with bones inside them—
really
.”

“No, honey,” Sam offers, coming down from the stage, “more like one of my own people trying to get through.”

“Look what
we
found,” Johnny says from behind the bar. “Must have been posters from here—”

“I think they may have called them playbills,” Howard suggests. “Look at all these famous musicians, Glenn Miller, Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong—”

“My heavens,” Ruby says, “perhaps my money isn't so
dirty
after all.”

Sam clucks her tongue and pulls one of the heavy posters from the pile. “I should'ah figured—this here's Bessie Smith and we all's related. My land, the things us black women had to do just to get the jazz out of our souls. I say, this room used to be
filled
with music.”

“Just imagine it filled with
people
,” Lilly offers while checking her do in the mirror over the bar. “I bet my father knew of this place.”

“I should think,” I offer, “everyone who was anyone did. Good grief, what in the world will we do with it? I mean, it seems such a waste to just shut the door and pretend it's not down here.”

“Shut the barrel, you mean,” Ruby says with a glint in her eye. “Well, I can't
imagine.
Certainly nothing much goes on up on the island in the winter, but come spring—why—all we'd need is to clean it up a bit, some paint and—”

All eyes turn to Sam. “A jazz singer,” I finish and Sam blushes. Well, I think she does, I mean, seeing as she's black. it's hard to tell, but she's gotta be blushing with that look on her face.

“Oh, land.” Sam lifts the poster of Bessie Smith up and speaks to it. “What have you gotten me into here—hmm?”

 

Since it
is
Christmas Eve and also seeing as we're over feasting at the boys' place, well, it just stands to reason that Johnny Mathis is crooning “Winter Wonderland” in the background, while a fire snaps and crackles in their fireplace.

“Thank you both,” I say among fork-tender roast beef bites, “for helping us haul all those dead things to the barn—
and
for this great supper.”

“So lovely indeed,” Ruby adds, setting down her wine goblet. “I've had a mind to take those dreadful creatures down before, but Ed wouldn't hear of it.”

“I was thinking,” Johnny says, passing the creamed spinach, “that it would look weird without them. I mean, your place has such a ‘lodge' feeling, but now it feels a lot bigger.”

“Doesn't it, though?” I hold my glass out and Howard pours more wine. “Thank you. I didn't know that Christopher Radco fellow made
that
many ornaments—my God—your Christmas tree must be worth a
fortune
! It's really beautiful.”

“So is that Christmas tree man.” Johnny singsongs this, grinning at me.

I'm actually blushing. I don't blush often. “Both Sam and Lilly,” I say, changing the subject, “are going to family stuff over the holidays. I'm glad we decided to shut down for the week in between Christmas and New Year's.”

“Let's make some plans then,” Howard suggests. “There's a ton of things to do up here that Johnny and I have never been here for.”

“Yeah,” Johnny adds. “Right about now, we'd be working on our tan and making sure we had enough ice to get us through the time until the clubs open. Then there's the parties and more tanning and—boring!”

They used to head south to Key West for the winter—for the sun and all those men to look at.