Loco Motive (3 page)

“There you are!” Pepper shrieked, coming into the parlor from the living room. “We'll sue! WeeWee's a mess! His leg and arm are broken! We won't pay you a dime. We're checking out and we never want to see you except in court!” She flounced out of the parlor.

“Good riddance,” Judith muttered, collapsing onto the window seat. She didn't care if Willie canceled his payment, left the B&B's best room vacant, took the Flynns to court, or bad-mouthed Hillside Manor in the media. Weevil and Company were out of her life. Judith felt as if Fate were smiling on her.

She didn't bother to consider that Fate was often fickle.

I
t was after six o'clock when Judith was able to sit down with Joe and discuss travel plans. The new guests had finally arrived, triumphing over a seven-car pileup on the north-south freeway, a late flight out of Anchorage, and a long line at U.S. Customs and Immigration on the Canadian border. Judith had gotten all eight of them registered, settled into their rooms, and served the appetizers for the social hour. She'd waved good-bye to Phyliss, tried to explain Wee Willie's antics to Gertrude, and informed Ingrid Heffelman at the state B&B association that Hillside Manor had an unexpected vacancy. Predictably, the conversation with Ingrid had been rancorous despite omitting the guest's name, who, as Judith had put it, “took a tumble in the garden.” Her innkeeper's reputation was already sullied by too much murder and mayhem for Ingrid's taste. It had been an ongoing struggle to keep the association from revoking the B&B's license.

“Hey,” Joe said, sitting at the kitchen table with his frazzled wife, “stop fussing about media coverage. Two good things have come out of the Weevil disaster. He's gone, and from what Wayne told me, there won't be any media coverage. Willie's too embarrassed to let the world see he's not infallible.”

“Oh, he's fallible,” Judith muttered. “He fell right into the pyracantha bush. He's lucky he didn't kill himself. Or somebody else.”

Joe made a face. “If I'd had time to shove your mother under Willie…”

The flippant remark didn't amuse Judith. After forty years, she was used to the antagonism between Joe and Gertrude. Judith's mother had loathed Dan McMonigle, too. Despite frequent criticism of her daughter, no man was good enough for Gertrude's only child. Judith took a sip of diet soda and changed the subject. “Are you going to use Renie's plane ticket?”

Joe nodded. “It's a done deal. I stopped by their house when I went to get gas for my MG. Bill was pleased.”

“You two seem to have a good time together,” Judith said.

“We do.” The gold flecks in Joe's green eyes danced. “But what really pleases Bill is not spending five hours on a plane with his drunken wife. My ticket money will be reimbursed by whichever company picks up the tab.”

“Thank heavens Renie doesn't need to get looped on a train,” Judith murmured. “I'm starting to get excited. I haven't taken a cross-country train trip since she and I went to New York to sail to England.”

“Over forty years ago,” Joe said softly, cradling his can of beer.

“Strange—it doesn't seem that long. Back then, the twenty-first century was so far away. We were just getting used to being grown-ups. Which,” he went on, looking more serious, “we didn't always manage very well.”

Judith touched Joe's hand. “We finally got it right, didn't we?”

“Oh,” Joe said with a deep intake of breath, “we did, but only after twenty-odd years at hard labor with our first spouses. Fate plays tricks on us. It's as if you and I were destined to be together, but Fate got the puppet strings tangled. Vivian should've married Dan. They would've drunk themselves to death or killed each other. You and I could've raised Mike together instead of having
Dan fill my place. It took a long time for Fate to untangle those strings.”

“Didn't it, though?” Judith said softly. After a long, wistful pause, she changed the subject. “Do you think the Rankerses should take over the B&B?”

Joe shrugged. “You know Carl. He'd saw off an arm or a leg if you asked him. I'll be here until Tuesday and get back Sunday,” he went on, getting up to toss the empty beer can in the bin under the sink. “As long as the Rankerses can deal with your mother and Phyliss, I can help with everything else.”

Judith nodded. “We aren't fully booked next week. That's good for Carl and Arlene, but not for us.”

Joe had gone over to the stove and lifted the lid off the Dutch oven. “Your dumplings are done. Shall we eat?”

Judith cocked an ear to listen for sounds from the guests who'd congregated in the living room. “I think most of them have taken off for the evening. You dish up our dinner while I deliver Mother's.”

Joe eyed Judith warily. “Have you told her yet about the trip?”

“No.” She made a face. “I'll do it now. Mother loves beef stew and dumplings. Maybe she'll be in a good mood.”

“If she is,” Joe said, taking silverware out of a drawer next to the fridge, “check the time of day. We'll have to include all the details when we contact the media to report an unprecedented event like that.”

“Not funny,” Judith muttered.

To her surprise, Gertrude was indeed in a good mood. “Well, toots,” the old lady said as her daughter put the dinner tray on the card table, “what time will Mike and Kristin and the grandkids be here?”

Judith stared blankly at her mother. “You mean…what?”

“He called me this morning,” Gertrude replied, studying the beef, carrots, potatoes, and dumplings on her plate, “or was it this afternoon? Anyway, he told me they'd be here for supper.”

Judith frowned. Was her mother delusional? It would hardly be surprising, given the old lady's advanced age. “Tonight?”

“You bet.” Gertrude looked puzzled. “You didn't know?”

“Um…no. That's odd.”

Gertrude was slathering gravy over the food on her plate.

“Now that I think about it, Mike said something about your phone being out of order. He called you twice…or more than that?” She paused to take a bite of beef and shrugged.

“I told him something around here was always out of order. Like Lunkhead, for instance.”

Judith ignored her mother's disparaging reference to Joe. “Our phone isn't out of—oh!” The light dawned. “One of the guests kept answering the phone and hanging up on people. She was expecting a call. She didn't follow the house rules about which phone she should use. If Mike and the gang are coming to dinner, I'd better make extra stew.” Judith started for the door, but turned around to face Gertrude. “Did Mike say why they were coming?”

Gertrude was chewing more beef. “It had to do with that goofy guy dressed like Santa Claus,” she said after pausing to swallow. “Mac and Joe-Joe wanted to see him.” She shook her head. “But I didn't know he played Santa until the crazy fool fell off the roof. Where's those reindeer when you really need them?” She paused, fork in hand. “Wait. It wasn't Santa—it was Superman.”

“No,” Judith said. “He never played Superman.”

Gertrude glared at her daughter. “'Course he did. He told me so himself.” She stabbed a fluffy dumpling.

“But…” Judith surrendered. “I'd better scoot. Maybe I can catch Mike and Kristin before they leave their place up at the summit.”

Back in the kitchen, Judith dialed the ranger station's number and got Mike's recorded message: “This is Michael McMonigle. I'm unavailable at present, but in an emergency, dial—” Judith clicked off and tried her son's cell phone. Her daughter-in-law picked up on the second ring.

“Where are you?” Judith asked.

“In your driveway,” Kristin said. “The boys are at the back door.”

Sure enough, Mac and Joe-Joe raced into the kitchen. “Hey, Grams,” Mac shouted, “where's Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man?” Judith cautiously bent down to hug the boys.

“You mean Wee Willie Weevil?”

Joe-Joe nodded, his dark curls dancing. “Is he like Spider-Man?”

“Ah…” Judith turned as Joe entered the kitchen.

“Hey!” he cried. “Look who's here. What's the occasion?”

“Wee Willie, for one thing,” Mike answered as he and Kristin came through the hallway. “I'm kind of excited about meeting him, too.”

Judith and Joe exchanged bleak looks. “I didn't know…” Judith began. “You should've called…” Joe said at the same time.

Mike held up his hands. “Whoa! Is something wrong?”

Joe put a hand on his son's shoulder. “Wee Willie checked out.” Mike's eyes darted in his mother's direction. “You mean…he's…”

“No, of course not,” Judith said with a nervous little laugh.

“Willie slipped and fell. He went to the ER, but he won't be back here before they head out of town.” Seeing the disappointment on not only the little boys' faces, but Mike's, Judith suffered guilt pangs. “I'm sorry, guys. Maybe he'll visit here again.”
Not if I can help it,
she thought.
I'd rather play host to a bunch of man-eating tigers.

“Hey,” Kristin said, her Viking-like form leaning over the little boys. “We'll get some of Willie's movies from the video store after dinner.”

Mac glared up at Kristin; Joe-Joe pouted. “You promised!” they chorused.

Mike knelt by his sons. “If you help, maybe we'll find some of my Wee Willie posters and comics around here. I think I saved a
couple of his
Robbing Hood
videos, too.” He looked at Judith. “Do you know where they are, Ma?”

“Wherever you left them,” Judith replied. “You promised to go through all that stuff years ago when you were transferred to the summit.”

Mike looked sheepish. “We don't have much extra room up there. Maybe I can take some back with us.”

“That'd be nice,” she said. “I might be able to find room for the CDs and DVDs we've bought in the last ten years.”

“Sorry,” Mike mumbled. He stood up and spoke to the boys.

“We'll start with the basement while Mom goes to the video store. You'll like the
Robbing Hood
shows. Willie wears a hood so nobody knows who he is and he steals from bad guys to give to poor people. At the end of each show, somebody asks, ‘Who was that hood?' Lots of fun action and adventure.”

“Actually,” Judith said, “the stew's not quite done, so you should say hi to Gee-Gee. She's excited about your visit.”

“Good idea,” Joe said. “How late do you plan to be here tonight?”

Kristin, who had eyed the two place settings on the kitchen table, frowned at Joe.

“Through the weekend. Didn't Gee-Gee tell you? Mike's taking a couple of days off. He still has vacation time because summer's so busy.” She turned to her husband. “Hey, Big Daddy, you and the kids can bring in the sleeping bags and the rest of the stuff. I made dill pickles a couple of months ago, but I keep forgetting to bring them. I put up peaches, too, and pears and…Wait up, guys!” she called after Mike and the boys. “Don't forget my homemade jams and jellies. They're under the quilt I just finished.”

As always, Kristin never ceased to amaze Judith, who considered her the most efficient, energetic, organized person on Planet Earth—with the possible exception of Aunt Ellen, who lived in Beatrice, Nebraska. At less than half Aunt Ellen's age, Kristin was catching up fast. Just listening to her daughter-in-
law's feats was exhausting. Kristin made Judith feel lazy, old—and short.

“I think,” Judith said, “I'll have a cocktail. Can I fix you something, Kris?”

“No, thanks. I made two kinds of cider—one hard, the other kiddy-safe.” She opened a tan canvas bag on the counter. “Want some?”

Judith hesitated. “Oh…sure. Why not?”

Kristin turned to Joe. “How about you, Daddylawman?”

Joe managed not to wince at the nickname Kristin had bestowed on him. “No thanks. I'll help the boys unload the Rover.”

Kristin had beaten Judith to the cupboard where the glasses were kept. “It looks as if you thought we wouldn't get here in time for dinner,” she said, gesturing at the kitchen table. “Did Gee-Gee warn you we might be late if traffic on the pass was heavy?”

Judith hedged. “You never know with cross-state highways.”

“Right,” Kristin agreed, pouring the thick amber liquid into two glasses. “I checked all the sites on the computer and timed it so we could avoid any serious tie-ups.” She handed a glass of cider to Judith. “Cheers!” The women clicked glasses. Kristin beamed at her mother-in-law. “This is going to be a great weekend. The kids can't wait to go trick-or-treating in the city.”

“Ah…” Judith tried not to look surprised.

“Go ahead, taste it,” Kristin urged. “It turned out fairly well. Oh, this should be such fun. It's the first time since the boys have been old enough that Halloween has fallen on a Sunday. Being a leap year, Saturday got skipped. Mac and Joe-Joe can't wait to be in the Heraldsgate Hill Halloween parade Sunday.”

If Judith hadn't already been jolted by the first sip of hard cider, Kristin's words would have left her just as bug-eyed. Worse yet, the little boys ran down the hall, each carrying gym bags and making whooping noises. Joe-Joe dropped his bag with its frog motif at Judith's feet and grabbed her by the legs. “Wanna see my costume?” he asked.

“No!” Mac shouted, clutching his tiger-themed bag. “Grams can't see it until we get ready to go to the parade.”

Judith's heart sank even lower. For the past decade, Heraldsgate Hill denizens of all ages dressed in every imaginable costume—or, as in the case of the ersatz Lady Godiva the previous year, no costume at all except for a long, dark wig. From infants to golden agers, the fantastic and the mundane promenaded the length of the commercial district on top of the hill. Inspiration often came from current pop culture: superheroes, presidents, characters from the latest hit movie or book. The revelers represented every category of animal, vegetable, and mineral. One year there were several babes-in-arms wearing peapod bodysuits, while their older siblings dressed as bananas, pumpkins, and a fruit salad that kept losing his—or her—grapes.

Traditional outfits weren't forgotten: angels, devils, witches, and ghosts, mingled with monsters, princesses, and skeletons. The imagination and handiwork of the hill's residents always amazed Judith. She and Joe never wore costumes, but they joined Renie and Bill at one of Moonbeam's curbside tables. The foursome drank mochas and hot chocolate while watching the steady flow of celebrants seeking treats—or store coupons—from local merchants. For the past few years, Judith had longed for the day her grandchildren would take part. Renie always hoped that she and Bill would become grandparents, but so far the three married Jones offspring hadn't granted her wish.