I took a deep cleansing breath when I walked outside. Disaster had been avoided for now. I felt an inner shiver imagining if Jordan had stormed Kevin St. John and demanded that my group leave. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the manager would have insisted we go. Jordan’s demands would have outstripped any fear of lawsuits, or repercussions from the Delacortes. I looked up at the sky and as usual didn’t have a clue of the time of day by the light. Lucky we had watches inside of sun dials or nobody would have known what time it was. Mine told me it was getting close to three.
The grounds were a little busier as I noticed a couple pulling their suitcases up a winding path to one of the newer buildings that housed guest rooms.
My groups always stayed in the Sand and Sea building. It was one of the originals from the time it was a camp and I’d heard it had been where the counselors stayed. The path to it led up a slope through an area of tall golden grass. Like the Lodge, the Sand and Sea building was covered with weathered brown shingles. A column made of local stones held up the overhang in front of the entrance. By now, the group had spent some time in their rooms. I was always honest in the description of the accommodations, but I was beginning to think that nobody read them because there was always some surprise and maybe disappointment when they actually saw their rooms, which were spare, to say the least.
The rooms were small with beds that were the size of cots. The sheets were on the rough side and the bathrooms barely large enough to have a sink, toilet and tiny shower. The toiletries provided by Vista Del Mar were on the same par as the bathroom, which was why I added the nicer versions in the tote bags. There were no telephones in the rooms and the only source of entertainment was an ancient clock radio left from the time when installing meant plugging in.
But all that sparseness had a benefit. It sometimes took a while, but the simplicity brought peace of mind. No need for white noise machines; all they had to do was open the windows and let the rhythmic sound of the ocean lull them to dreamland.
I walked into the living room–like common area and imagined those young women camp counselors nursing a cup of hot chocolate in front of the fireplace, relaxing after their charges went to bed. The fireplace was the same, but by now the furniture had been replaced numerous times, though I imagined the comfortable style had stayed the same. My groups had gathered there for yarn craft on previous retreats, but it was also a nice place to settle in with a good book.
I thought I was there alone until I heard a voice. “It’s so nice and cozy in here.” When I turned, Hanna was eyeing one of the armchairs just as Daisy came in the door.
“I brought revised schedules,” I said, waving a handful of pages. I’d taken out all the regular activities that Vista Del Mar usually provided and changed mealtimes and such. A lot of time slots were still labeled To Be Announced. Cloris had taken care of printing them up while I’d been on the phone.
I gave them each one and asked if they’d been able to find their rooms. Both of them nodded and I waited for some editorial comment on what they thought of them, but neither of them added anything.
I’d expected John to be the one most put out by the quality of the rooms. He seemed like someone who flew first class and who was used to plush towels and high thread count sheets that came with five-star hotels. He was unpacking his bag when I knocked on his door. I apologized for the rough muslin sheets, and he surprised me by saying the lack of luxury was a relief. “I was getting kind of soft. I like the idea of getting back to basics. You know, leave your everyday life behind for a few days,” he said, glancing around his sparsely furnished room. “It makes the treats you put in our bags stand out even more.” I noticed his chocolate bar had already been opened and some of it was missing. I assured him there were refills and gave him an updated schedule.
Vonda and Yolanda were sharing a room and I saw they’d come prepared with snacks and a small pot to make hot water. Since they had driven up from Los Angeles, it had been easy for them to bring their own pillows and the extras. They were laughing and talking as I was struck by how different they looked, but then I guessed it had to do with their different lifestyles. Hairdressers were artists of a sort and Yolanda gave off that sort of vibe. Vonda’s was an authority figure as an assistant principal and it showed in her manner.
The door was open to Suzy!’s room, and she was pacing while peering at her phone. As soon as she saw me, she put the phone behind her back. She put her hand on her forehead. “I didn’t know this would be so hard. Maybe I’ll get some of that gum. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin. I can’t seem to help it, but there is this tug that makes my finger want to scroll.”
“It’s toughest at first,” I said. “Once we have a workshop, your mind will get off of it,” I said. I reminded her of the phone booths if she needed to contact her family.
“It’s not the same,” she said, sounding agitated. “They tricked me. All my son said was that it was a nice getaway weekend. My emails must be piling up, and texts. What if something happens somewhere—I’m not going to know about it.” I was glad to give her a schedule and leave. She was making me nervous.
Fern had the windows open in her room and was inhaling the cool damp air when I checked on her. She had already made her room seem homey. A knitting project was sitting on the bed with the needles stuck in a skein of an iridescent color of yarn. A book was open facedown on the night table, along with some framed photos. She saw me looking at the pictures. “I can’t help it—I have to see their faces.” She smiled at the photo and then did a twirl with her arms out. “But oh, how nice to be here all alone.”
When I went outside, I felt rather than heard loud music pulsating from somewhere. It was so out of place on the grounds—where the usual sound was only the rhythmic rush of the waves—that I went looking for its source. I’d already figured that it was probably connected to Jordan’s retreat, and I was curious what they were up to.
I passed the Sea Foam dining hall, and as I approached Hummingbird Hall, the volume seemed to increase. The building was the same Arts and Crafts style with dark wood, some local stone and lots of windows as the others in the area I called the heart of Vista Del Mar. This building was used as an auditorium when it was filled with rows of chairs, and when it was empty it became a big open space for activities like dances or mass yoga classes. The door at the side was open and I slipped in, staying in the shadow.
Jordan was already onstage wearing one of those headset microphones. The crowd seemed small, with only about thirty or so people sitting in a cluster at the front. Jordan had had a presence when I’d dealt with him, but it was nothing compared to what he gave off when he was in front of a crowd, even a small one. I watched with fascination trying to see how he connected with his people.
He walked to the edge of the stage and jumped off. He moved right into the throng, getting up close to them—really close, as in their bubble of personal space. “Ah, my special people,” he began as he touched individuals on the shoulder or gave others a hug and welcomed them back. “You’re the Elite Jordanaires—you’re the most committed to wanting to change your life.” He paused and seemed to be overwhelmed with emotion. “It means so much to me that you are so inspired that you joined this special group. I promise you will be transformed by the end of our time together.” He put his fist on his heart and then waved his fist over the group as if he was offering them a special connection to him. They all cheered and tried to get closer to him, but he had begun easing back out of the crowd.
“We don’t want to waste any time. We’re going to get right to the first challenge. Accepting the gift of nature. Those of you who have been here before know the wonder of going out into a field and gathering nature’s bounty. Lyla Konker is our expert in this,” he said just as the white-haired woman came into the group. The vibe was completely different as she moved through them, handing out pieces of paper and pointing out a table to the side that had a display.
I lost interest as the white-haired woman started to speak and slipped back outside. For a moment, I felt a little lost. My whole routine of things I did at the beginning of the each retreat had been thrown to the wind. First there’d been my encounter with Kevin St. John and then dealing with Jordan himself. I hadn’t even been the one to escort my people to their rooms, but at least I had checked up on them. Then it came back to me that I had never checked to see that the meeting room I’d arranged for the group was in order.
I dashed back across the center of Vista Del Mar and found the small building set between the ones that housed the guest rooms. It was actually a newer building but had been built in a similar style. All the buildings had names and this one was called Cypress and had two meeting rooms. Ours was the smaller of the two but had a fireplace and windows that brought in more light than the other one. I opened the door and rushed in, looking around. I let out a breath of relief when I saw that Cloris had come through and the counter was set with the coffee and tea service. A fire had been laid in the fireplace and just needed to be lit. The long table was surrounded by chairs. It seemed okay, but something was off, and I glanced around again. I shook my head as I realized what was missing. There was no tin of cookies next to the drinks or my bin on wheels. I went back over the earlier events and figured that I had left it behind the registration counter when I’d used the phone.
It was hardly the end of the world, but it upset me that I’d gotten so flustered. I was annoyed that I’d let everything with Jordan throw me off. I retraced my steps and went back across the grounds.
As I neared the Lodge, I noted a small bus parked in the driveway. I was relieved to see Cloris come out of the building. I dreaded having to deal with Kevin St. John to reclaim the bin. I waved toward her, but she seemed intent on stepping inside the door of the bus and didn’t see me. It was only when she came back out that I was able to get her attention. I was a little stunned when I saw her face. I was used to her confident smile, but it seemed her expression was stuck in concern.
“What’s the bus for? Did Jordan decide to relocate his people?” I asked, hoping to lighten her mood.
“I wish,” she said. I’d reached her by then and she leaned in close to keep our conversation confidential. “Mr. St. John wants everything to go perfectly with them and I know if anything goes wrong, he’s going to try to make it seem like my fault.” She glanced around to check that we were still alone. “The bus is here to take his people to the Carmel Valley to forage for their dinner.” Cloris showed what she thought of the idea by shaking her head with distaste. “The woman who works with him found the location; we just arranged the transport.”
Just then the white-haired woman came out of the Lodge and joined us. Cloris shot me an uncertain expression, then shrugged and introduced us. I already knew her name was Lyla Konker from hearing Jordan introduce her to his people, but I smiled and acted as if I’d never seen her before in my life. She in turn barely acknowledged me. Up close it was even more apparent that the white hair was really premature. She had super straight posture and an expression that said nobody could live up to her expectations. She kept looking at her watch and seemed agitated. “Where are they? Jordan should have given them a lecture on discipline.” She seemed most upset that the staff people weren’t there yet. “They’ve done this challenge before and understand what an awakening it is to experience the bounty that is out there just waiting to be picked. She went on with what I imagined was part of the lecture she’d given them about the wonders of dandelions and burdock greens. How they were organic and loaded with nutrition. “After all, food is merely meant to be fuel,” she said. “No need for any extras or dessert.” She said the last word with a grunt, as if it was something awful.
Cloris looked at me and seemed apprehensive how I was going to react. After all, Lyla had just dismissed my whole field of cooking. But I simply smiled at her and tried to ease her agitation.
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” I said. “Your people are probably still getting acclimated to Vista Del Mar.
She glared at me in response. “This isn’t some whatever sort of weekend. They have to push themselves and put in the work.” She looked at me again. “I don’t suppose you would understand that since I heard that you aren’t even supposed to be here. What is it that you do? Run a knitting circle?”
“Oh, look, here they come,” Cloris said, trying to distract her. I’m sure Cloris was worried that Lyla would keep hammering at me until I reacted. I’d been pretty good about letting it all go past me—first dealing with Jordan and now her—but you can only pull a rubber band so tight before it finally snaps. I was glad when her group started to pour out of the building and climb on the bus.
“Sorry,” Cloris said. “She’s a bit uptight.”
“And strict and no fun,” I said. “I’m starting to feel sorry for Jordan’s group, but then I guess they must know what they’re getting into.” The door to the bus pulled shut and it started to back up.
“At least you’re done with your part,” I said.
“I wish. Collecting the stuff is just part of it. It’s all timed out. The bags have to be checked and then they prepare what they gathered. I have to play traffic cop in the kitchen to make sure they don’t set the place on fire or anything.” She sounded wound up and tenser than I’d ever seen her.
“I’m sure you’ll do a great job,” I said, hoping to reassure her. I finally got to why I was there, and she went inside and retrieved my bin.
Cloris touched my arm as I turned to go. “Heaven help us both to get through this weekend. We’ll have to have a wine toast after they all leave.”