“Yes, we met Clarissa and Jessica just before you came in,” I said.
“They were together?”
“Well, no. They came in separately and then left . . . sort of together.”
“I hope Linda is around,” Lucille said. “She seems to be the only thing keeping the cousins from attacking each other.”
6
I was about to ask Lucille to explain when Wally extricated himself from Vi and moved toward the doorway.
“Our chef, René, is from Paris and is an expert in French cuisine. He has a great dinner planned for tonight,” Wally said. “You can go in anytime now.”
The knitters noisily left the library and headed in to dinner.
I spotted a table for two by the window and quickly steered Mac toward it.
“Clyde! Mac! We got a big table for all of us,” Vi shouted and waved from across the room.
I squeezed Mac’s hand and trudged across the room to tell Vi we wanted to sit alone. Unfortunately, Mac followed me, and we found ourselves sitting with our families. I tamped down a flash of irritation and reminded myself it was only for one night.
Before the waiter arrived, Clarissa entered the room. She stopped at the table where Amy, Tina, and Heather sat. “I talked to Kirk, and he’ll be happy to help you with your . . . competition,” she said. They nodded their thanks and leaned toward one another, urgently whispering the moment she walked away.
She stopped at our table and Vi began to introduce Mac and me.
“Yes, we met earlier.” Clarissa put her hand on Mac’s shoulder. I felt him tense next to me. “Isn’t this lovely! It’s a family reunion,” Clarissa exclaimed. “There’s nothing like family, is there? Ever since I came back to help Aunt Linda and Cousin Jessica run the hotel, I keep asking myself why I stayed away so long. Of course, I had no idea there would be so much knitting.” She shivered dramatically and leaned toward Mac and me. “It gives me hives just thinking about it.”
Vi’s face turned pink and her lips paled into a thin line. I hoped Clarissa would move on before a brawl broke out.
“I would love to stay and chat, but duty calls,” she said. “You let me know if there’s anything you need.” She cocked her head at Mac and turned away.
She approached the table where Isabel, Mavis, and Selma sat. Mavis kept her head down and didn’t speak to Clarissa. Isabel smiled politely but didn’t encourage her.
After a moment or two of silence, Clarissa clicked her heels out of the dining room. And the three women sighed in relief.
Jessica approached our table before I could ask Vi and Mom why Clarissa had gotten such a cool reception.
She looked at the door and Clarissa’s retreating back.
“Wallace just told me he didn’t have a room for you. I might—”
“It’s okay, Jessica, we worked it out,” Vi said. “We’re all sharing.” She gestured around the table.
Jessica gave me a sympathetic smile and I liked her even more.
“Well, let us know if you need anything,” she said. “Mother and I have always prided ourselves on making our guests feel at home.” She glanced at the doorway. “Even before Clarissa joined us.”
“Thank you, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Mac said.
Jessica moved to the next table just as Wally came to announce he would act as our waiter and to describe the menu for the evening.
“Vi says you’ll be sharing our room, Clyde,” Mom said as she passed me the bread basket. “That will be so exciting—like a girls’ weekend. We can’t let Dad and Seth have all the fun.”
“I haven’t had a chance for some quality time with my son in years!” Lucille told the table.
Mac studied his plate and took deep breaths.
“I hope you and Mac can find something to do while we’re in our workshops,” Vi said to me. “Isabel has a very packed schedule for the weekend.”
I thought about how we wouldn’t be sipping cocktails and relaxing on the beach.
“Clyde, I’m sure you could join us,” Lucille said, and looked at me hopefully. She was determined to make a knitter out of me. Vi and Mom had given up years ago to focus on pressuring me to use my psychic talents. Knitting was a distant second on their priority list.
“I should probably keep Mac company,” I said.
“But Mac can knit,” Lucille said.
The table fell silent as every eye was trained on Mac. He rested his elbow on the table and put his head in his hand.
“Didn’t you tell her?” Lucille asked
“It never came up, Mom,” Mac mumbled to his plate.
“I knew it!” Vi said.
“You knew that Mac could knit?” I said.
“No, I knew we’d figure out a way to get you to take a class. If Mac is there, too, it will be just like the vacation you planned.”
“Not exactly, Vi,” I said. Not even close.
Violet gave me a crooked smile. “Well, there aren’t any beaches here, but you can still have some fun.” She nodded once to end the discussion.
Fortunately, Wally arrived just at that moment with our meals. He apologized that the menu had been severely limited. The chef wanted to conserve supplies in case they couldn’t get back out for a couple of days to replenish. I shuddered to consider that we could be stuck here for a couple of days.
My first bite of the coq au vin had me hoping we would never have to leave. The slightly salty, savory chicken and mushrooms was rapidly eclipsing all other favorite dishes. I’m not much of a foodie, and even less of a cook, but I recognized that this was something special.
“Wow,” I said. “This is incredible.”
Vi nodded. “They’re pretty impressed with their chef.”
“They should be,” I said.
The room grew quiet as everyone focused on their meal. After a few minutes, the door swung open and the chef appeared. He made his way among the tables, accepting praise and chatting with the guests. He wore a white smock and a tall white hat. I was surprised to see he was about my age—probably early thirties.
He stopped to talk to Mavis and Selma. They both blushed furiously at something he said.
“Ah, our newest guests,” he said when he reached our table. “I am René Sartin, head chef. I hope you are enjoying the dinner.” He had a heavy French accent and I had a weird sense of watching a bit of dinner theater.
After graciously receiving compliments from our table, he gave a short bow and strode back into the kitchen.
I leaned toward Vi after René left.
“Vi, what’s the deal with Clarissa and the knitters?” I tilted my head toward the table where Isabel and Mavis had been sitting. Only Selma remained.
Vi shifted in her seat to look. She shook her head as she turned back toward me.
“That’s a very sad story,” she said. “Mavis’s daughter, Teresa, and Isabel were best friends in high school. Teresa was horribly bullied and eventually took her own life.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” I said.
“Mavis has always blamed Clarissa. She was the leader of a mean-girl pack and Isabel claimed that they targeted Teresa after an incident with a boy. It seems Teresa lured Clarissa’s boyfriend away and she never let up after that.”
“Why did Isabel have the conference here if she knew Clarissa would be here?”
Vi shook her head. “I don’t think she knew. Isabel and Jessica had a bit of a dustup when we all arrived. Isabel said Jessica should have told her, and Jessica said she would keep Clarissa away from the knitters.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Mom leaned over to look at us.
“Nothing, Rose. Just filling Clyde in on the situation with Mavis and Clarissa.”
“Oh. Let’s not ruin our dinner talking about that,” Mom said. “When I think of what poor Mavis must have gone through . . .” Mom’s eyes welled up. She grabbed her water and took a sip.
Silence fell over the table and we focused on our food. Lucille finally broke the tension.