Judith helped Renie carry her parcels up to the so-called suite and was surprised to find that although the beds had been made, the bathroom towels not only hadn’t been replaced, but were piled up in one of the double sinks. While Renie put her new items in the Joneses’ carryall, Judith dialed the number for housekeeping. After eight rings and no answer, she called the front desk. The male voice that answered didn’t sound like Niall.
“Sorry,” the young man said after Judith revealed their problem. “We’re a bit shorthanded today. I’ll see if I can find someone to send up to your suite.”
“Well?” Renie said after Judith disconnected. “Will they bring fresh towels? You know how fussy Bill is about his towels. He uses them as part of his neck therapy. Nubbiness counts, too. I’ll bet that checking them will be the first thing he does when they get back here tonight.”
Judith hadn’t gotten past “nubbiness.” “How does Bill judge such a thing?”
“He feels the towels,” Renie declared solemnly. “Bill knows what’s nubby and what’s not. It’s a gift.”
Judith sighed. “If you say so. I wonder what time they’ll get here? Maybe we shouldn’t make reservations, but rely on which of the restaurants in the Banff Springs Hotel can serve us.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Renie murmured. “What’s our next move . . . or do we have one?”
“We do,” Judith replied. “We haven’t really talked to Pa and Ma Stokes—Corny and Delia. And I’d like to find out if Ada can talk at all.”
“Hoo boy,” Renie responded. “Maybe I should go shopping again.”
“You can’t afford it,” Judith said sternly.
“I couldn’t afford it the first time,” Renie asserted. “I didn’t pay for anything. I charged it to my credit card.”
Judith shook her head. “You always do. Let’s go.”
They walked along the river, which seemed benign under the warm August sun. Briefly, Judith could almost imagine they were really on a vacation, free from all their routine cares, free from guests for her and deadlines for Renie, even free from murder.
But the first glimpse of the Stokes encampment crushed the illusion. The scene was made even more doleful by the lack of activity. Family members stood or sat almost motionless, as if posing for an unseen camera. Judith noticed that Codger’s tent was gone. A wooden barrel stood in its place. Beer, maybe, even moonshine brought from Big Stove. Nothing about the Stokes family would surprise her.
Pa and Ma Stokes were at the picnic table with Teddy and Martha Lou. A deck of cards and a cribbage board had been shunted aside. Teddy and Martha Lou stood to one side, vacant eyes looking off into the distance while they munched on popcorn out of a huge red-and-white-striped plastic bag. Ada sat on a stool by the big tent, her back turned to the rest of the family.
Renie leaned closer to Judith. “They don’t look like they’re in the mood for company.”
“Maybe we can cheer them up,” Judith said, though she sounded doubtful in her own ears.
Corny and Delia were the first to acknowledge the cousins. He raised a red, swollen hand in greeting and said, “How do,” in a cheerless voice. His wife merely nodded, her triple chins burrowing into her big bosom. Teddy turned to look at the visitors.
“You write your story yet?” he asked with a frown.
“No,” Judith replied. “I won’t do that until I’m back in the New York office. I always take time to reflect on my subjects.”
Martha Lou’s freckled face looked puzzled. “Reflect on what?”
“My approach to the article,” Judith replied. “It can get very complicated.”
Teddy was still frowning. “You gonna write about us?”
“Not by name,” Judith said. “I’ll want to describe the kind of people who come to Banff and where they’re from, especially foreigners from Europe and Asia.”
“Oh.” Teddy seemed to lose interest.
Martha Lou, however, persevered. “You won’t say anything about Codger, will you?”
“Probably not. I’m leaning toward the international angle. What attracts foreigners to this beautiful, rugged part of the world.”
“The movie,” Martha Lou said. “About the river. That’s why we came here.”
“So you mentioned,” Judith began, but stopped when Teddy yanked at his wife’s arm.
“Nobody’s bidness ’cept ours, Martha Lou,” he asserted, his face turning red. “Shut yer pie hole, okay?”
“Fine!” she snapped, jerking her arm out of Teddy’s grasp and stomping over to plop down on the barrel.
Pa Stokes had stood up. “Let’s all settle down. These ladies don’t mean us no harm. Maybe they’d like some of our cider.” He looked down at his wife. “Where’d you put that jug, Delia?”
“In the ice bucket next to your right foot,” she replied. “Try not to knock it over.”
“Never mind,” Judith said, smiling. “We had beverages at the motel. How long do you folks plan to stay on?”
Pa had sat down again. He shot Ma a sharp glance, but she merely shrugged. “Not sure. Cooler up here than in Big Stove this time of year. Guess it depends on . . . things.”
“I suppose,” Judith said, making her way to the picnic table, “you’ve heard from Doris and Jens back home?”
“They do all right,” Pa replied, taking a tobacco pouch and a sheaf of cigarette papers out of his shirt pocket.
Ma leaned forward, staring at Judith with snapping gray eyes. “Who told you about Doris and Jens?”
Judith realized her gaffe. “I’m not sure,” she hedged. “Maybe whoever mentioned Aunt Sheba taking care of the children.”
Teddy, who had parked himself on the end of the table, nodded. “Could be. I ferget.” He reached out to bat at a mosquito. “Hey, you seen the blonde from the motel today?”
Something about the question bothered Judith. “A blonde?” she echoed. “Someone who works there?”
“Maybe,” Teddy replied. “She was hangin’ out here the other day. Aunt Adela thought she was from the motel.” He suddenly turned his head in all directions. “Where is Aunt Adela? And Uncle Norm? He was gonna help me work on the camp stove. It’s busted.”
“Never did work worth a damn,” Pa muttered, taking a drag on his homemade cigarette. “Hell, nobody and nothin’ works worth a damn anymore. Raisin’ corn isn’t like it used to be. In the old days, it was back-breakin’ work, from sowin’ to harvesttime. Made a man feel like a man. Now I just sit around and read the commodities reports. Real work done by all this otto-motion.”
“Automation,” Ma snapped. “I read books, not just those so-called reports. You never try to improve your mind. Why I married you in the first . . .” Her voice trailed off and Judith thought she was about to cry.
Pa, however, remained stoic. He’d rolled a second cigarette and eased his lanky frame off the picnic table’s rough wooden seat. “I’ll give this one to Ada. She could do with a smoke.”
Judith reached out a hand. “I’ll take it to her. We haven’t met Ada. That’s an oversight on our part.”
Pa looked so startled that he let Judith take the cigarette. “Why d’ya wanna do that?” he asked, obviously puzzled.
“As journalists,” Judith replied, already moving around to the other side of the picnic table, “we have to touch base with everyone involved.”
Pa shrugged. “Fine. But she don’t talk much.”
“Neither do I,” Renie asserted, following her cousin. “But I can spell better than Judith does.”
“Brat,” Judith said under her breath as they approached Ada. “You know damned well you can speak up anytime you feel like it. You just did.”
Renie ignored her cousin. Judith saw Ada’s thin shoulders tense as they approached. As they came abreast of the young woman, she also noticed that her right hand was tightly clenched.
“Hi, Ada. I’m Judith and this is my cousin Renie. How are you today?”
Ada kept staring straight ahead.
“I see you’re keeping out of the direct sun here by the tent,” Judith said. “You have quite a nice tan, though. Do you like being outdoors in the fresh air?”
Nothing. Judith took a deep breath. “Are you sad about Codger’s passing?”
Still nothing. Judith proffered the handmade cigarette. “Your father rolled this for you.”
Only a flicker of Ada’s eyes indicated she understood as she held out the hand that wasn’t clenched. Judith noticed that it was almost unlined, as if the palm had rarely been put to use.
“Do you need a light?” Judith asked.
Ada kept staring somewhere between the cousins. Maybe she was deaf. In desperation, Judith looked at Renie.
“Hey,” Renie finally said after a pause, “how about those Huskers? Think they’ll go undefeated this season?”
Ada’s head moved in an almost imperceptible negative response. Judith stared, wondering if she could hear, but not speak. “Not with Bill Callahan coaching, right?”
A single emphatic nod answered that question. Judith grabbed Renie’s arm and pulled her aside. “What was that all about?”
“Football,” Renie said. “Bill’s been studying his college-football-magazine predictions. What else do Nebraskans care about so strongly except the Cornhuskers? Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win inherited their tickets from his parents. That’s one of the few ways fans can get them. Even someone a little . . . slow, like Ada, knows about the Huskers.”
Judith shook her head. “Football.” She glanced at Ada, who still hadn’t budged. “Okay, goofy sports expert, what if Ada isn’t as dim as she seems?”
Renie stared up at the sky. “Then maybe she should be the next Nebraska coach.”
Judith gave up.