who live in far-flung places is hanging by his or her thumbs from a steep cliff over shark-infested waters.”
“I’ll make this quick,” Judith said, hearing someone on the main stairs. “I lost the bet, but I’m almost certain I know where we’re going.”
“Going? Oh—the supposed trip. Where?”
“Dana Point! Just what I wanted! You will come, won’t you?”
“Well—if Bill wants to. I assume he does if he and Joe have been hatching plans. But I’m not sure we can afford any big expenditures. If only Bill wouldn’t have such hard luck with his inventions. If he could ever sell one, we wouldn’t be semi-broke.”
A month earlier Renie revealed that Bill had been spending part of his retirement not just counseling a few of his longtime mental patients, but also dreaming up inventions. He was embarrassed about the activity, especially since every time he tried to find a backer for ideas such as his circulating hospital mattress and lightweight collapsible Rollo-Bag for shoppers, he discovered they were already patented.
“Excuse me. I just heard the postman.” Renie hung up.
Judith smiled as she set the receiver on the dining room table. She hoped Renie would remember to put on some clothes before she went out to the mailbox.
After bidding farewell to her departing guests, Judith found Phyliss in the living room about to turn on the vacuum. “Moses and I are ready to roar,” the cleaning woman said with an eager expression.
“Wonderful,” Judith remarked, smiling slightly. Phyliss referred to the vacuum as Moses, and pretended she was parting the Red Sea or leading the Israelites out of captivity. “If you need me, I’m in the garage.”
“All I need right now is Moses,” Phyliss declared, turning on the vacuum. “On to Mount Horeb! We want to see that burning bush!”
Judith went back outside. As she helped Joe finish cleaning the garage and then attended to her other routine chores, she dreamed of California’s warm sun, sandy beaches, and fine cuisine.
The dream kept her going all through the busy day and into the evening. During the night she woke up once, thinking she could hear the soft surf caressing the pristine sands. The sound was only the rain pattering on the windows. She smiled, rolled over closer to Joe, and went back to sleep.
2
The rest of the week passed quickly, but that following Monday as the wind picked up and the rain slanted down, Judith’s mood turned sour. Joe had told her they’d be leaving in a couple of weeks, but he hadn’t mentioned a date or anything else about his plans. Judith had alerted Ingrid Heffelman about the need for a B&B sitter. Ingrid had been cantankerous, though she’d agreed to find someone reliable. Monday afternoon, Ingrid had called to confirm the dates. Judith was unable to tell her anything concrete. Ingrid had hung up in a huff. Judith didn’t blame her, but Joe wasn’t forthcoming. He merely went around the house humming and looking pleased with himself.
“At least,” Judith said to Renie the next day as the cousins met for coffee at Moonbeam’s on top of Heraldsgate Hill, “the Rankers are back from California, so Mother is taken care of. Thank heavens she’s in a better mood since she unburdened herself about the bridge game.”
Renie sipped her mocha and nodded. “I’ve rounded up the usual suspects to watch over Mom. She’s convinced we’re going to some ghastly place where we’ll need shots and mosquito netting and get kidnapped by white slavers.”
Judith blew on her espresso. “Bill hasn’t let anything slip?”
Renie shook her head. “You know how tight-lipped he can be. Bill’s the only person I know who could withstand any kind of torture before revealing a secret. Even threatening to make homemade soup for dinner won’t get him to open up. He’s very strong.”
Judith recalled many years earlier when Renie had made soup—for the last time. One of their children had thrown a dirty gym sock in it, hoping to improve the flavor. Renie had taken the hint.
“But,” Renie went on, “I’ve got the tax stuff in to our CPA, I’m winding up loose ends with my graphic design business, and I’m virtually packed. So is Bill, but I can’t tell what he’s taking because he locked his suitcase and probably swallowed the key.”
Judith smiled at two mothers who were pushing high-tech strollers between the tables. “Mike and Kristin and the boys are coming for St. Patrick’s Day dinner tomorrow, so I know we aren’t leaving before that.”
“You’re lucky,” Renie said for what Judith figured was the hundredth time. “Your son and his wife and the grandchildren live only an hour away at the ranger station. Our three and their unfruitful spouses are whole continents and oceans away.”
As usual, Judith commiserated. “Think of the bright side,” Judith said. “In probably just a few days we’ll be relaxing under the sun with margaritas at our side.”
“I’m not so fond of sun,” Renie muttered. “I’m the essential Pacific Northwest native. Gloom is good.”
“I’m a native, too,” Judith countered, “but I wouldn’t mind some warmth and clear skies. It seems like a long winter.”
Renie, who had a foam mustache on her upper lip, shrugged. “Fair enough. Getting away will be nice. So will being waited on. A spa session sounds good, too.”
Judith replied. “I printed out the St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort in Dana Point web site and taped it to the bathroom mirror. It isn’t cheap, but we don’t go anywhere that often.”
“Nor do we.” Renie raised her cup. “To relaxation and pampering.”
Judith smiled. “My, yes. And to us.”
Mike and his family left Hillside Manor Thursday night full of corned beef, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and soda bread. Judith was loading the dishwasher when Joe came up behind her and leaned over her shoulder. “Set the alarm for six o’clock.”
“I always do,” Judith replied, “so I can get the guests’ breakfast.”
