along the lines of manicured lawns, luxurious spa amenities, and maybe high tea served at umbrella-shaded tables. None of that seemed likely here. Commander unloaded our bags from the cab and held the door as the three of us went into what he called the administration building but what the name plate referred to as the Phoebe Apperson Hearst Social Hall. Inside was a huge, airy room with an open ceiling and exposed beams. A sitting area with a small TV was adjacent to a large stone fireplace complete with an inviting fire. A piano, a pool table, and a Ping-Pong table filled the back area, and the other end was given over to the registration desk. It felt like something between the lobby of a hotel and the gathering room of a camp.
Unfortunately, Nora and Bennett were already at the registration desk. Nora looked stunned and marched over to me. “This isn’t a hotel,” she sputtered. She pointed to a freestanding board that listed the day’s menu. “Look at this. There’s not even a restaurant. It’s a dining hall. I can’t eat here.” She let out a big sigh. “If CeeCee Collins had talked to me, I never would have agreed to let Bennett step in for her, but she went directly to him.”
I covered up my own surprise at the place and tried to smooth things over. “Maybe it isn’t what you expected, but why not give it some time? Even the food might turn out better than you expect.” It didn’t work, and she walked off with an exasperated huff sound.
While we waited to check in, Adele Abrams walked in.
Once we all had our keys, Adele wanted to show us around. “Pink, if you’re going to be in charge, you ought to know what’s what.” She turned back and looked at our feet. “I hope you all have good walking shoes.” Adele walked backward, facing the three of us, as she gave the background of the place.
The layout and camplike feeling began to make sense when she explained that Asilomar was originally built as a YWCA camp. “The grounds are spread over a hundred acres,” she said, turning before leading us up a hilly walkway bordered by golden wild grass. “The area we’re staying in and using for the retreat is part of the historic core.” Adele pointed to several two-story buildings with weathered wooden shingles that had large nameplates identifying them as Lodge and Scripps, and said that was where our group was being housed.
The air was certainly bracing, and I’d read somewhere that this kind of climate was conducive to creative thoughts, but something about the place seemed moody and brooding. Maybe it was the gloomy sky and the fog drifting in. Or all the brown wooden buildings that seemed dark and forbidding. It didn’t help that Commander Blaine kept repeating that we were on a little piece of land at the end of the continent jutting out into the ocean, and the waves were huge and rough.
Even the stately Monterey pines were a scruffy dark green. And the cypress trees with their gnarled trunks and horizontal foliage reminded me of bent old men with wind-blown hair, trying to run away. I looked at Dinah and had the feeling she shared my reaction.
“Maybe when there are more people here, it’ll seem a little more cheerful,” she said, then leaned closer. “I bet if you sat around telling ghost stories, a real one might show up.”
“I heard that,” Adele said. “You two are nuts. Asilomar is wonderful.”
By now we’d made a full circle and were back at the administration building. Commander turned toward the plant-covered sand dunes nestled against the property and was about to say something, but Adele beat him to the punch.
“There’s a boardwalk over there that goes through the dunes to the street. The beach is across the street.”
“Maybe we should show it to them now,” Commander suggested.
“No,” Adele said firmly. “Pink needs to know where the locations for the retreat are, like the Crocker Dining Hall.” Adele indicated a building with a covered entryway and lots of tall windows that was just down the walkway.
“They ring the bell on top of the administration building to announce mealtimes,” Commander added. Adele pointed out a few other small buildings where our workshops were going to be held, and then it seemed like the end of our tour. As Dinah and I left them, Commander added that Asilomar meant refuge by the sea.
Dinah and I picked up our bags in the administration building and headed outside. Commander said he would catch up with us-I think he really meant Dinah-later, and went with Adele to get some things she’d brought for his workshop.
We pulled our bags up the steep path, past the golden grass-covered hill, toward the weathered building Adele had pointed out as Lodge. Just inside we passed through a communal living room with overstuffed chairs and a fireplace. We determined our rooms were on the second floor, and we went up the stairs.
As we looked down the dark corridor, Izabelle Landers stepped out of one of the rooms and walked toward us. True to the title of her book, Izabelle wore only a subtle touch of crochet in the form of tiny rose pink flowers around the neck and sleeves of her black wool jacket. When she got closer, I saw there were pearls in the centers of the flowers.
“Your jacket is exquisite,” I said, fighting the desire to touch the flowers and examine the stitches.
Izabelle thanked me. With the puffed-up lips, her smile looked almost painful. Dinah and I had already decided there was maybe a ten percent chance she was born with those lips.
“I’m going to sit by the fire in the administration building and finish crocheting a shrug,” Izabelle said, holding out a small tote bag with her supplies. “It’ll be nice against the chill up here.” I sighed at the mental image. Sitting in front of a roaring fireplace and crocheting sounded very appealing. Maybe, if I was lucky, there would be some time during the weekend when I’d get a chance to do it, too. Izabelle looked at the cards our keys were attached to and pointed toward the front of the building. “Those room numbers are up there.”
We were still on the landing at the top of the stairs when we heard some noise down below. We all looked over the railing. Nora and Bennett had walked into the living room and were looking around. More correctly, she was looking around and he’d dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs.
Izabelle seemed to stare at him.
“I’ll save you the trouble of wracking your brain where you know him from. That’s Bennett Franklyn. He plays the older brother on that Raf Gibraltar show.”
“I know who he is,” Izabelle said, still looking over the railing at him. “It’s just different seeing him in person.”
“He may look like the guy next door, but he has charisma at the same time,” I said. “And he’s certainly the peacock of the family.” I caught sight of Nora’s face. She might make lots of noise, but her appearance was surprisingly drab. She had brown hair you couldn’t attach a fancy adjective to, like mink or chestnut. It was cut in a short, no-fuss, kind of style. She definitely had a light touch when it came to makeup, and though I wouldn’t call her fat by any means, in the size zero world of Hollywood, others probably would.
Nora paced in front of the fireplace, appearing agitated. “This won’t do.”
Bennett stood and touched her arm with tenderness. “Don’t fret so, hon. It won’t kill us to spend a weekend here. And the payoff is worth it.”
Payoff? I wondered what he meant.
Izabelle pushed the tote bag on her arm. “Well, ladies, see you later.”
“I thought we’d all meet up at dinner,” I said. “It’ll give all the workshop leaders a chance to get to know each other.”
“Right,” Izabelle said before going downstairs. She walked up to the Hollywood couple and introduced herself.
I heard her tell Bennett that she liked his show.
“Let’s find our rooms,” I said as we left our post and went down a dark, wood-paneled hallway. Our rooms were adjacent in the front corner of the building. Just before I went inside mine, I glanced down the corridor. A short man with a head shaped like a brick was walking down the hallway looking at room numbers. He stopped in front of a door and rapped impatiently, but no one answered. Dinah noticed him, too. He must have felt he was being watched, because he looked up abruptly and stared back at us. The anger in his expression sent a shiver up my spine.
“Is he one of our people?” she asked.
