Catch Me if Yukon Page 6
Cody’s microphone crackled. “If you look out the window to the right of the cabin, you’ll see the Turnagain Arm branch of Cook Inlet. It looks like a big mudflat now, but it has one awesome high tide, second only to the Bay of Fundy. The wave on the leading edge of the incoming tide can sometimes be as high as ten feet and reach speeds of fifteen miles per hour, so if you want to hang ten in Alaska, that’s the place to do it.”
“I’m tickled you decided to join us tonight, Delpha,” I enthused. “What changed your mind?”
“My stomach. I saw the restaurant’s menu and decided it looked a lot more appetizing than deli take-out at the hotel.”
“Was Goldie okay with that?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t she be?”
I shrugged. “You made an evening of luxury at the resort sound so tempting that I just wondered if she might be disappointed that you opted to follow the program.”
“Nope.” But her voice was tight despite her denial. “We talked it over by phone and agreed that when I get back tonight, I’ll reserve time for the two of us in the sauna tomorrow, along with appointments for massages and facials. We’re going to make a day of it while the rest of you do whatever it is you’re planning to do.”
“Dog mushing demonstration for some. Free day for others.”
“I might even manage to squeeze a hike in. Did you see the brochure in the room? There’s hiking trails all over this mountain. I might have to test out a couple just to walk off tonight’s dinner.” She leaned over to give her quadriceps a vigorous rub. “Two days without meaningful exercise. I feel like my muscles are turning to mush.”
“So you and Goldie haven’t…haven’t had a falling out or anything?”
She gave me a bewildered look. “Goldie and I have been best friends forever—since we were in kindergarten. I can’t think of anything that would cause us to have a falling out.” Her bewildered look grew defensive. “Why would you even think that?”
“I—”
“I’m closer to Goldie Kristiansen than I am to my own sister, and…and I resent your suggesting that there’s bad blood between us. Goldie and I are like this.” She wrapped her middle finger around her forefinger in the iconic symbol of togetherness. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Goldie or she for me. And it’s been like that forever.” She skewered me with a decidedly unfriendly glare. “No disrespect, Emily, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t feel so free to make insinuations about things you know nothing about. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“To your left you’ll notice multiple rivers of snow in the valley,” Cody continued as Delpha headed to the opposite end of the cabin. “Those are glaciers—six of them, and there’s a seventh at the top of the mountain that’s within walking distance of the restaurant. But if you plan on seeing it, I suggest you do it before that cloud front up ahead decides to run into us.”
Had I misread the hateful look Delpha had given her friends back in the lobby? Or had I simply imagined seeing something that wasn’t there? Either way, I think I just failed the tour escort competency test big-time.
As I regarded the dense evergreen forest below us without actually seeing it, Bernice shuffled up beside me. “Where’s pretty boy tonight?”
I looked over my shoulder to locate Etienne. “Over there with Osmond and Alice.”
She clucked in disgust. “Why do you assume I’m talking about your husband? You think just because he has piercing blue eyes, whipcord muscles, dimples like the Grand Canyon, and a sexy accent that I was talking about him? Hey, he’s not the only show horse in the circus anymore. I was talking about hottie number two. The one with the soap-opera name that oozes sex.”
“Steele?” I chuckled. “He sent me a text saying that although he’d love to join us this evening, he had a ton of paperwork to catch up on, so if he wanted to keep his job, he needed to devote some serious face time to his mileage charts. Driving a bus involves a lot more work than simply driving the bus.”
“Beauty and brains. Too bad he wimped out. Oh, well.” She smiled, lifting her eyebrows in anticipation. “Lots of nights ahead of us yet.”
Yup. That’s exactly what this tour was missing: Bernice putting moves on our bus driver. Oh, God.
“We had 460 inches of snow at the base of the resort this last winter,” Cody announced as we neared the terminus, “and 980 inches at the top. Lucky for you tourists, most of it has melted. Tower swing!”
We grabbed for handholds again as the car swayed on its cable. I glanced toward our destination—at the building with its ranch-style design, open decking, and dark exterior siding—and was surprised to find it rather unremarkable looking. Perched on stilts that bore into the side of the mountain, it looked less like a Four Diamond restaurant and more like a Swiss mountain retreat whose occupants were professionally trained female assassins that James Bond would have to eliminate in order to save the world.
“Trams leave every ten minutes or so,” Cody said as we arrived at the platform, “and they’re in operation until a half hour after the restaurant closes. Watch your step as you offload.” He unlatched the locks and slid the door open. “Enjoy yourselves, folks.”
“This way!” instructed Alison, who’d already positioned herself at the head of the group. After leading us beyond the tram platform to an observation deck at the back of the structure, she motioned for us to form a circle around her. “If you’d like to hike to the glacier, follow the sign posts thataway.” She pointed to the heavy-shouldered mountains that formed a protective bowl around us. “It’s not that far away, so you can get there and back with plenty of time to spare before dinner. If you’d prefer to simply wander around the immediate area, I’ll caution you to be mindful of your footing. The landscape rises and falls, so if you have balance issues, try to stay on the even terrain. That round building over there is the Roundhouse Museum. If you want to check out old photographs of Girdwood and read about the construction history of the facilities around you, that’s the place you’ll want to visit. If none of that sounds appealing, I’d recommend the restaurant bar, where you can lounge in a relaxing atmosphere while sipping your favorite libation until dinner.”
“Where are you headed?” asked Grover, his gaze traveling up the length of Alison’s long, shapely legs.
Alison stared down at her short skirt and strappy sandals. “Since I’m not exactly dressed for hiking, I think I’ll head over to the museum. I never tire of seeing those old photographs. And you’re all certainly welcome to join me. Oh, and before I forget, steer clear of the avalanche guns. Don’t go near them. Don’t touch them. Big problem if you do. Okay? So let’s all plan to regroup in the restaurant at seven. Enjoy your exploration!”
“Where are we going, Thor?” asked Florence as she struggled to shift the camera bags to a more comfortable position.
“I’m going to the museum, but I think you should check out the glacier. I don’t want to waste my time hoofing over there if it’s a photographic bust. You can text me a picture when you get there and I’ll decide what I want to do.”
Florence looked puzzled. “We’re not going together? But…what if you need one of your other zoom lenses in the museum?”
“I’ll manage, Florence,” he said sharply, adding in a more belligerent tone, “Godfrey Mighty, can’t you get by on your own for even a few minutes? Quit following me around like you’re my shadow, would you? Go…go do something on your own for once.”
Stunned silence from the group, followed by gasps and uncomfortable stares.
Florence stood perfectly still, absorbing the shock, Thor’s words hitting her like a slap to her face.
“Florence would do plenty on her own if she didn’t have to spend so much time catering to your stupid whims,” Delpha shot back. “You load her down like she’s your personal pack mule. Look at her! Why can’t you carry your own d
amn equipment? What are you, six?”
Thor slatted his eyes. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
“Tough. I might have sold my newspaper, but I haven’t shut down my editorial comments.”
“Hey, mind your own business before I—”
“Before you what?” she challenged. “Bring it on, Thor, whatever you’ve got. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Stop!” demanded Florence, her voice echoing through the valley like a rifle shot. “I’m sorry all of you have had to witness this little scene. You have my word it won’t happen again.”
And with those words, she seemed to transform before our eyes as if a switch had been flipped—shedding her timid cocoon to emerge in more formidable form, like a superhero character without the flashy costume. She suddenly seemed taller, fiercer, more cunning.
She nodded toward Delpha, her words measured. “Thank you for leaping to my defense, but I’m perfectly capable of handling any issues I might have with my husband by myself, without the need for outside interference. Not now. Not ever.” She lasered a look at Thor. “Enjoy your visit to the museum.” Shrugging out of the nylon straps that crisscrossed her chest, she dumped his camera cases on the deck. “You might want to take these with you.” Dusting off her hands and squaring her shoulders, she smiled with impish satisfaction. “Who’s up for hiking to that glacier?”
It was as if she’d hit the reboot button after a disruption in programming. Shaking off the awkwardness of the moment, the group began to breathe normally again, followed by foot shuffling and obvious indecision. Orphie and Goldie rushed to Florence’s side in a show of solidarity, but Florence shook off their attempted hugs in favor of marching down the stairs and striking out toward the glacier with both women in tow.
“I’m going with Florence,” announced Tilly as she headed toward the stairs, her walking stick making little thumping sounds on the decking.
“Me too,” said Nana, chasing behind her.
“Hurry up, Bob.” Mom grabbed Dad’s arm, dragging him toward the stairs, close on Nana’s heels. “We’ve gotta keep up because you know she’s gonna try to lose us.”
“Wait,” objected Osmond. “We should take a vote. Show of hands: How many people think we should see the glacier fir—”
“Oh, put a sock in it, would you?” Lucille Rasmussen bristled at him as she scurried after the girls.
They scattered in opposite directions after that, as if an invisible dividing line had been drawn. Thor snatched his equipment off the deck with a grudging gesture and followed most of the guys behind Alison, while most of the women followed Florence. Most of the women, that is, except Delpha, who stormed down the stairs in menacing silence, taking off in the direction of the ski lifts, and Bernice, who stood sneering as she watched both groups depart. “The drama of it all,” she jeered in a mocking tone. “I’ll be at the bar, trying to forget that I’m holed up with these clowns for the next two weeks.”
As she headed off toward the restaurant, I exchanged a frustrated look with Etienne. “How does this happen? These people were all supposed to like each other.”
“It’s the age-old battle of the sexes, bella. The ladies versus the gents. And the ladies are obviously intending to stick together.”
“I suppose.” My phone chimed. I checked the readout. “Jackie again.”
“You’d best answer that.”
“Would you like to talk to her?” I held the phone out to him.
He waved off the invitation. “I heard Alison say ‘avalanche guns,’ so I’m thinking I should locate them before the Dicks do, just in case. I can’t see them spending an hour in a museum, no matter how good-looking Alison is.”
“I’ll catch up to you after I finish my call.” I raised my phone to my ear. “Hi, Jack. What’s up?”
“Um…does your insurance cover catastrophic medical emergencies?”
I froze like an arthritic limb. Oh, God. “What happened?”
“Well, I was applying a base coat of my uber-velvety sheer and luminous foundation on Mildred’s scrubbed and gently polished face when things started to go wrong.”
“What kind of things?”
“Her face swelled up like a helium balloon.”
Oh, God. “She must have been allergic to something in the makeup. But she was still breathing, right?”
“That was the next thing that went wrong.”
I needed to sit down.
“She started complaining about her throat closing up.”
I hurried into the building and found a seat in the foyer area of the restaurant.
“She said she felt like she was breathing through a straw, so I thought I better call 911.”
Heart racing, hands trembling, I nodded. “Definitely the right thing to do, Jack. Good call.”
“And my timing was spot-on because about the time the paramedics walked through the door, she stopped breathing.”
I hung my head. Oh, God. “So…so is Mildred—” My voice cracked. “Please don’t tell me she’s dead, Jack.”
“No! She’s not dead. She’s sitting here drinking some pop.”
“In the hotel?”
“At the hospital. The paramedics got her breathing again, but because of her age they decided to transport her to the hospital anyway. They don’t like it when eighty-six-year-olds suffer cardiac arrest.”
My heart rate slowed. My hands stopped trembling. “Thank God she’s all right.”
“Yup. Mildred’s a sport. But they’re going to keep her in the hospital overnight for observation, just as a precaution. They want to make sure her face returns to its normal size.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Which is a good thing because between you and me, Emily, balloon-faced is not a good look for her.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“Not necessary. I have everything under control except for the insurance thing, which Mildred was asking about. Does her health insurance cover this or does yours, because she doesn’t think her supplemental will kick in to pay for out-of-network charges.”
“Well, I…give me a few minutes to call our agent, and I’ll call you right back.”
After being shunted to his voicemail, I left a message, then sat waiting patiently for his return call. Amid the deafening clank and grind of motors as the tram released another carload of tourists onto the platform, I accessed the file for the guests who were signed up for the Green Acres tour so I could peruse Mildred’s application and medical history. No checkmark in the box for known allergies, but she was obviously allergic to something. I studied the rest of her application while the door to the restaurant opened and closed with newcomers drifting in to have a look around. I looked up occasionally to find men in sport coats and women in shimmery dresses heading toward the hostess podium, but the majority of the folks who popped in for a look-see were typical tourists dressed in jeans, shorts, sweatshirts, and baseball caps that promoted the American flag, the Chicago Cubs, and Kermit the Frog drinking what looked like a mug of beer, which was just plain wrong. Kermit wasn’t old enough to drink, was he?
On the last page of Mildred’s application, I noticed a checkmark in a box that suddenly took on more importance, so by the time the agent finally did call, I was practically giddy with relief. When our conversation ended, I called Jackie with the good news.
“Tell Mildred she doesn’t have to worry about medical charges. She bought the catastrophic travel insurance we offered, so she’s covered one hundred percent.”
“Huh. So those policies aren’t scams?”
“No, they’re not scams! We’re not offering fake insurance out of a call center in Nigeria.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell Mildred. She’ll be tickled pink.” She lowered her voice again. “Mildred doesn’t seem like the litigious type, but out of curiosity, what happens if she sues me?”
“You got it.”
The time on my phone read 6:47, which was way too late to start exploring the grounds, so instead I decided to sit and wait for everyone to arrive, which should be any moment now. I mean, by Iowa standards, the whole group was already unforgivably late.
The minutes ticked by.
6:48.
6:49.
I stared at the door, expecting it to burst open and the gang to stampede through.
6:50.
6:51.
Where were they? This wasn’t like them.
Too anxious to wait any longer, I exited the restaurant and—with the roaring whirr of the tram motors ringing in my ears—hurried out to the observation deck…where I was enveloped by a thick cloud of haze that was as blinding as an Iowa blizzard. I swept my hand through the haze, hoping to see the outline of something familiar in the distance, but nothing was visible in the white-out—not the museum nor the ski lift nor the neighboring mountains.
The frontal system that had threatened all afternoon had finally descended, marooning the gang on the mountaintop, unable to see a hand in front of them.
Oh, God.
six
“hel-looooooo?”
Rather than echo mellifluously through the mountains and valleys, the word thudded headlong into the fog and dropped to the deck like an anvil.
I squinted into the mist, flapping my hands in front of myself to clear a space, but the mist refused to be cleared.
I made a megaphone of my hands. “Etienne? Nana? Mom?”
Crickets.
Uff-da. How could they find their way back if they couldn’t see anything? What if they went the wrong way in this soup? They could fall off the side of the mountain, one by one, like…like lemmings.