Claire Gulliver #04 - Cruisin' for a Bruisin' (8 page)

“Don’t worry. I didn’t look like this at dinner. I didn’t wear any makeup and I wore that jogging outfit I brought. With my hair in a pony I could have been her sister. And she thinks I’m working, just like she is. I tell you, we bonded.”

“What did you tell her you did?”

“I’m an administrative assistant to a businessman who can’t leave his work behind,” she said proudly. Then she sobered. “Look, are you sure we need to go through with this? I mean isn’t there another way?”

“Hey, don’t get cold feet now.” He nibbled on her neck. “It’s not like I want to do this, but we have to get her out of the way, or it just won’t work. I can’t think of anything else. Can you?”

He paused a moment looking into Kim’s eyes. “The real question is will you be able to go through with it? Can you do it?”

Her face took on a hard look, and she nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my part. I just wanted to make sure this was the only viable solution.”

Claire gamely followed Lucy through the driving rain, hurrying down the path away from the entry gates of Butchart Gardens. They had left the ship with only one umbrella to share, but found bins of them waiting for visitors to borrow at the gate to the gardens. So now they each had one. That helped keep the rain off, although the little packets containing lightweight rain ponchos they picked up on the ship did a better job of keeping them dry. Claire couldn’t help but wish the Gardens had also offered galoshes to their visitors, because it was obvious they would have very wet feet soon.

The path led slightly downhill to the Visitor Center, the Gift Shop and the Coffee Shop. Because they were early, and because of the rain, there weren’t many people around yet. Their taxi driver told them they would probably have about an hour before the tour buses arrived carrying passengers from the three cruise ships docked in Victoria today. Lucy was determined to make the most of their time while the gardens were fairly deserted.

“Come on, Claire,” she urged. “We can check out the shops later and for sure we’ll stop at the Plant Identification Center before we leave.” She headed out of the little square past the statue of Tacca, the Butchart Boar, whose nose had been rubbed copper-penny-shiny by countless visitors who craved a little luck.

Claire was content to let Lucy lead the way. Lucy had been thrilled when she first heard the ship would dock in Victoria, thus allowing her to visit the famous gardens. She refused to be deterred by the dank dark day when they woke this morning, though truthfully, in their windowless cabin in the lower level they really didn’t know how dismal the day was until they met Millie and Ruth for breakfast. Still, Lucy would not let the weather interfere with their plans.

Not so for Millie and Ruth, who had both decided to stay on board ship and enjoy the activities scheduled. They couldn’t be convinced the gardens would be worth braving the cold rain.

“You two go. We’ll meet you at the Empress at three for tea. That’s enough adventure for me, thank you very much.”

Ruth nodded, for once in full agreement with Millie’s caution. “We’ve lasted this long without seeing the gardens, we can live another few years, I’m sure. And who knows, maybe we’ll drive up to Victoria some day and see them.”

Since they wouldn’t change their minds, it left only Claire and Lucy to negotiate with the taxi driver and set out for the gardens. Somehow the rain, instead of dampening their enthusiasm, only heightened it. Claire had had many special adventures in the rain. She smiled to herself remembering the violent storm she survived with Jack at the Korean War Memorial in Washington D.C. last year. Of course it had been frightening, but it had also been romantic and exciting.

Victoria was a lovely town. Even the rain couldn’t disguise its charm. The majestic parliament buildings were impressive. The streets of Victorian houses, bed and breakfasts and little cottages were picturesque. And when the taxi took to the highway, they found it was lined on each side with roses, blooming in every color. The taxi dropped them at the gardens’ gate very shortly after it opened, and the driver promised to be waiting there for them when they returned, no matter when that was.

“Oooh,” Claire couldn’t help exclaiming when they reached the bower filled with hanging baskets spilling over with colorful blooms. “This is gorgeous. What are these flowers? I recognize the fuchsias of course, but these yellow, orange and red ones don’t even look real, do they?”

“They’re begonias. Tubular begonias and they are spectacular.” Lucy had her camera out, her umbrella laid aside while she busily took pictures from every angle, the lattice top of the bower diverting much of the rain.

“You know, Claire, I think I could do something like this at the end of my patio. It would be lovely.”

Claire nodded enthusiastically. Lucy had a wonderful backyard and a bower like this would be a great addition. “Would they grow like this in Burlingame?”

“I think so. I’d have to put in a misting system and build a frame like this to give partial shade, but there’s a place down off of Highway 92 in Half Moon Bay which specializes in begonias. If they grow there they’ll probably do well in my yard.” She nodded happily, already planning her begonia bower as she retrieved her umbrella and headed up the steps following the sign pointing toward the sunken garden.

The heavy downpour made the inside of the ship seem very cozy. Millie stayed far away from all the areas where food was served, in anticipation of the high tea they were going to have later at the Empress Hotel. Ruth had headed to the spa to use the indoor swimming pool, but Millie wanted to find a comfy corner to work on her menu planning. She hoped to finalize her menus for the two weeks after her return and have a menu ready for Mrs. Richman’s approval for the dinner party she wanted Millie to cater in October. Ruth scolded her for working on her vacation, but Ruth just didn’t understand how much fun Millie was having with this. Claire and Lucy understood probably because they each loved the work they did. She stopped at the coffee bar and ordered a latte and then looked around for a table. Over in the corner near a window was Mrs. Bernbaum, sitting all by herself looking a little lonely.

Millie decided the menus could wait a while and approached saying, “Mrs. Bernbaum, do you want company?”

She looked up surprised and then a pleased expression spread over her face. “Oh, how nice. Yes, please sit down and have coffee with me. I was just looking out at this dreary weather, thinking how glad I am I didn’t go on the garden tour.”

“Me too. Ruth and I bowed out this morning, but Claire and Lucy went.”

“Ah, they’re so young they probably don’t feel the dampness creeping into their joints.” Her laugh was rough, almost a cackle. “Or they’re just not wise enough to wait for another time.”

The waitress delivered Millie’s latte and looked at Mrs. Bernbaum to see if she wanted anything else. When Mrs. Bernbaum shook her head, she left them.

“So where is your nephew today?” Millie inquired politely, knowing how much Mrs. Bernbaum liked to talk about her Dickie.

“He’s out in the rain. He’s going to the gardens and then to a winery. He says he wants to see it all.” She smiled indulgently and then continued. “And Anita, my caregiver is out, determined to have her feet planted on solid ground despite the rain. She is not finding her sea legs and complains all the time. Frankly I’m glad to have her out of my hair for a while.

“Speaking of hair, what do you think of my do? The girls in the salon worked on me this morning and I think they did a nice job.”

“Very nice. Isn’t it wonderful to have all these services available? I’m really enjoying this cruise. How about you, does it compare favorably to your previous cruising experiences?”

“Oh yes. This ship is so grand and so big. It’s like being at a magic resort, isn’t it? Every morning we wake up in a different destination.”

Millie smiled her agreement, not even minding when Mrs. Bernbaum grabbed her arm pulling her closer to say in a hoarse whisper, “I am so sorry you lost your one true love so long ago. I know how sad that is. And you never found another?”

Millie shook her head, her eyes tearing suddenly, even after so many years sadness enveloped her in a breathless vise.

“My Nate was impossible to replace. Most people don’t understand..., but I think you do. Your friend says you change; you become a different person so it is possible to find another perfect mate, different from the first, but still perfect. That didn’t happen for me. I don’t think it happened for you, either.”

“Ruth doesn’t understand. She has been married four times. And recently she has found another perfect man. I wanted to find someone else. I wanted Claire to have a father when she was little. It just didn’t happen.

“How long had you and Nate been together?” she asked Mrs. Bernbaum gently.

Mrs. Bernbaum stared out the window, as if the rain cascading down the glass would tell her something, then she sighed, released Millie’s arm and took a sip of her coffee.

“Not long enough. Not nearly long enough.”

She shook her head and looked closely at Millie. “I met him during the war. That was the big war, World War II. I worked for the USO organizing activities for the military personnel going through San Francisco. We held dances four times a week.

“I was a widow. I had lost my first husband shortly after we married. We met in college. That’s why young ladies of my generation went to college, you know, to find a husband. So I found a suitable husband just as my parents intended me to do, but he was killed in an automobile accident less than a year later. I was sad, naturally, but I confess I led a frivolous life and I didn’t really know grief. As a widow I had the freedom of a married woman during a time when single women had to worry about their reputation. I had no responsibilities, no money worries and as a widow I was free to socialize, to involve myself in charity work and basically frittered my time away.

“Pearl Harbor jolted me out of my easy life. I got involved in the USO. I threw myself into it as if what I was doing would alone make the difference between victory and defeat. Not that maintaining the morale for our troops wasn’t important, but now I realize I was just a dilettante. I could have volunteered at the hospital. I could have joined one of the services. But either of those activities would have meant a total commitment. Still I tried to do something, so I poured my energies into the USO.”

Her eyes glazed over as she murmured, “It seems like it was only yesterday when I met Nate.”

“Mary, those two girls over there can’t be out of high school. Check them out. If they’re as young as they look send them home.”

“But Flo, we’re short girls tonight. Can’t we just look the other way? You can see how popular they are with the guys.”

Flo watched the two girls; one blond, the other with brown hair, both had shoulder-length curls, which was the style of the day. They wore full skirts, sweaters and bobby socks with their high heeled shoes as many did now that silk stockings were impossible to find. And they were good dancers, which was almost as important to the soldiers and sailors as the fact that they were girls. She was tempted to follow Mary’s advice and ignore their age because the girls scheduled for duty tonight couldn’t keep up with the number of service men, who chose tonight to attend their dance.

She shook her head. “We don’t dare. What if Father Riley finds out? You know how nervous he was about allowing us to use the church hall on Wednesdays. We’d be out on our ear. We promised him no minors. And those girls look like they could be two students from the parish high school.”

Then she added, more gently, “I’ll call some girls on the back-up list and see if I can get some more dancers here.” She headed for the telephone, relying on Mary to sort out the situation with the young girls. She hated being the disciplinarian, but she was in charge and she had worked too hard to set the locations for the four USO dances to lose one because a couple of kids wanted to dance.

Where were their mothers anyway? Didn’t they keep track of their kids? Then she smiled wryly to herself, thinking their mothers were probably on the night shift out at the shipyards doing their bit for victory, leaving their kids to fend for themselves.

After twenty minutes of frantic calling she found four women willing to get over to the dance within a half hour. Two of them said they would bring a friend or two, which would certainly help. Now confident she had solved their crisis she looked around the hall noticing the cluster of uniformed men around the table containing the sandwiches, the coffee and the punch the church’s Ladies Altar Guild provided for the dance.

Putting these dances together was a mammoth effort. The location was only one factor. They needed volunteers to provide the food. She had to arrange for the women, who would come and serve the food. She needed girls who loved to dance, making sure they agreed to dance with anyone who asked them, no matter how clumsy or shy the service men were. And of course the music was very important. Sometimes she was able to get a real band, but when she couldn’t, Mr. Silva was happy to provide the music. He was a sweetheart. Too old to serve himself, he said he was still good for something. He used two phonograph players and his own extensive collection of records, which included all the popular dance bands. He not only queued up the next record to begin when the previous one ended, but he kept up a lively chatter to encourage mingling.