CHAPTER 4
I tuoi occhi possono giocare brutti scherzi.
Several hours later and the guest of honor still hadn’t shown up. Jinx wasn’t sure if Pamela had changed her mind about performing at the grand opening or if she was just delaying her arrival time to make an even grander entrance. Regardless of the reason, Jinx wasn’t able to conceal her frustration over the absence of her subject.
“Ah, Madon, Jinx,” Alberta said. “Stop pacing the room, you’ll wear a hole into the carpet.”
“Sorry, Gram,” Jinx replied plopping down on her bed in an effort to stop herself from moving. “I guess I’m a little antsy about interviewing Pamela. This is a big break for me.”
“I know it is, but why don’t you use this time wisely instead of giving yourself and me agita?”
“What do you mean?” Jinx said. “I’m here to interview Pamela Gregory, and if she isn’t here there isn’t much I can do.”
“Why don’t you interview some other people who work here and take notes about the surroundings before Pamela shows up and occupies all of your time?” Alberta suggested.
For a moment Jinx was speechless because her grandmother had shown true journalistic instinct and reminded Jinx of one of the first things she learned in writing class in college—sometimes the best way to find a story is to get out of your own way. Stop overthinking a situation and trying to control it and just let the events around you unfold.
Jinx might be here to write a story about a specific person, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other aspects of the story she could uncover until that specific person arrived. Writing a compelling feature article was like making a five-course meal. There would be the main course that would garner most of the attention like Grandma Marie’s legendary lasagna, but even such a beloved dish couldn’t survive on its own, it would need to be supported by smaller items like antipasto, garlic bread, fried meatballs, broccoli rabe, all of which would be equally appetizing. Alone each was tasty, taken as a whole they became delizioso. That’s what Jinx needed to do: make Pamela, her as-yet-unseen main course, as delizioso as possible by investigating the side dishes. In this instance those side dishes were Icicle Lodge, its employees, and even its magnificent surroundings.
Jumping off the bed, Jinx squealed, “Thank you, Gram, we really do make a fab team.”
“Una squadra favolosa,” Alberta said, translating the phrase into Italian.
“That too,” Jinx replied. “I’ll see you later, I’ve got some work to do.”
Alberta glanced at her watch and replied, “Meet us in the main room, Cathy said dinner is served at six o’clock.”
“Perfect! And don’t worry because I told Cathy that we’re all on vegan, gluten-free diets,” Jinx added before closing the door behind her.
“What?”
Alberta shouted so loudly Lola jumped off the bed and scampered into the bathroom. She didn’t see Jinx peek her head back in the room. “Just kidding, Gram!”
“Oh Dio mio, uno di questi giorni!” Alberta cried, unable to stop herself from breaking into a fit of laughter. She was still smiling a minute later when the door flew open. Her smile, however, disappeared when she saw a strange man burst into her room.
“Who are you?”
Since they both spoke at the same time, neither responded with an answer, but rather a demand.
“Answer me!”
Pounding out of the bathroom, Lola broke the standoff with a hiss that made the man take a few steps backward. Alberta picked up Lola, but it didn’t stop the feline from continuing to hiss and do her best to protect her owner. Her performance rivaled anything immortalized on the silver screen by her namesake. Lola’s actions gave Alberta even more of the courage she needed to take control of the situation.
“I said answer me now or I’ll make Lola, I mean, my guard cat, attack you,” Alberta warned. “And don’t let her size fool you, she is vicious when she needs to be.”
Holding his duffel bag in front of him as protection, the man looked at Alberta and Lola with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re in my room.”
“No, this is my room,” Alberta clarified.
“Isn’t this the . . . um”—the man paused for a moment to look at the room key he had been holding in his hand—“snowflake room?”
“It most certainly is not,” Alberta said defiantly. “It’s the Snow Bunny room.”
“I’m so sorry, I thought it was odd that the door was open,” the man said. “They should really have numbers on the doors instead of giving them names.”
“I like the names, I think they’re cute.”
“Well, sure, they’re carina . . . sorry, I mean cute,” he admitted.
“Hold on for one second,” Alberta interrupted, stopping the man from leaving. “Are you Italian?”
“Yes.”
“Sicilian?”
He shook his head. “No, Muffatese.”
“Oh,” Alberta said trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt. “I’ve known some nice Muffatese.”
“I’ve met one or two nice Sicilians in my time,” the man countered.
A worthy adversary, Alberta thought.
“I’m here with my family and some friends thanks to my granddaughter, Jinx,” Alberta explained. “She’s a reporter writing an article about the grand reopening and the figure skater who’s going to perform here.”
“Then I’ll be working with her, I’m the photographer,” the man revealed. “Charlie Ponti.”
He wrapped his left arm around his duffel bag to hold it closer to his chest and reached out with his right hand, but his intended handshake was cut short by Lola’s hiss that was even louder than the one before.
“Lola, basta!” Alberta scolded, patting Lola on her rump. “He’s okay, he’s working with Jinx. She’s really very friendly once you get to know her. Lola, that is. Well, Jinx too, but she’s got a fella who’s here with us so don’t you get any ideas.”
Blushing slightly, Charlie smiled and glanced around the room, embarrassed by Alberta’s comment. “That won’t be an issue, I’m here on official photographer business,” he admitted. “Plus I’m in the middle of a divorce that cannot be described as amicable so I have no interest in complicating my life any further.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, I never got divorced, but I thought about it a couple times,” Alberta added with a nervous laugh, not entirely sure why she was sharing information with a stranger that she had never shared with her family. “I’m Alberta Scaglione, though these days I feel more like Alberta Ferrara, that’s my maiden name. I’m a widow so I guess I could go back to using that, but I’ve been Alberta Scaglione for so long I think I might confuse people. Even myself.”
“I can see how you might be capable of doing that,” Charlie replied.
For the second time in a short while Alberta laughed hysterically, and it felt good. Her happiness must have been contagious because Lola relaxed in her arms and even rolled onto her back so Alberta could cradle her. Charlie, exhibiting bravery that previously had not been on display, rubbed Lola’s belly and with a few touches was able to turn her previous hisses into purrs.
“So much for being a vicious guard cat,” Alberta chided. “But then you’re not a real intruder who’s out to hurt us, you’re just a photographer.”
“Now you sound like my wife,” Charlie quipped. “ ‘I don’t know who you think you are, Charlie, you’re just a photographer.’ That’s what she’d always say.”
Alberta could see the pain behind Charlie’s smiling eyes and felt like she was looking into a mirror. She didn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on how Sammy used to make her feel, but forty years of marriage memories—good and bad—were hard to shed. More often than she cared to admit, her past had a way of interfering with her present. Her saving grace was that she had a present that was different than her past and she thought it might be helpful for Charlie to hear those words too.
“I don’t want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Alberta started. “But any wife . . . or husband who puts down their spouse isn’t worthy of being married. And I should know. So consider yourself lucky that your wife is going to be in your past and not part of your present.”
Charlie remained silent and Alberta feared that she really had turned back into Alberta Buttinsky—as her brother, Anthony, nicknamed her when they were kids—and she had imposed her point of view on a relationship that she knew nothing about. But then Charlie’s stoic mask of a face softened and he smiled at Alberta in genuine appreciation.
“Thank you,” he said. “No one’s said something that nice to me in quite a long time.”
Thinking back on her married life, Alberta knew how that felt too. “Then you’re welcome and clearly it was meant to be that you broke into my room.”
“Is this guy bothering you, Alfie?”
Alberta’s and Charlie’s reactions couldn’t have been more different. While Alberta rolled her eyes and shook her head at Vinny’s obvious display of machismo, Charlie practically cowered in Vinny’s presence. At five foot six and 210 pounds, Charlie was both vertically and horizontally challenged, so when he stood in front of Vinny, who was six foot four with the physique of a recently retired football player, he was intimidated. Making matters worse, Vinny was wearing his chief of police jacket and baseball cap so he was not only physically menacing, his outfit shouted power and authority.
“No, not at all,” Alberta replied. “His only crime is that he confused his snowflake with his snow bunny.”
“What?” Vinny replied, rightfully confused.
“He got his room mixed up with mine, that’s all,” Alberta clarified. “He’s the photographer who’s going to work with Jinx.”
At the announcement that Charlie was not a threat, but also the one person who was going to get closer to Pamela Gregory than Jinx, Vinny’s eyes lit up and he dropped any sense of swagger he had carried into the room either consciously or otherwise.
“If you don’t take a great shot of me and Pamela on the ice together, I swear I’ll have you arrested,” Vinny declared.
“He’s joking,” Alberta said.
“I am not,” Vinny corrected. “I want a glossy eight-by-ten or I’ll put you behind bars. We have a deal?”
“I, um, really don’t see that I have a choice,” Charlie replied. “But nice to know that you’re a fan too.”
“I’m not a fan,” Vinny declared.
“You, Vinny, are such a liar!” Alberta exclaimed.
“No, I’m not,” Vinny said. “I’m a huge fan! Have been since Pamela won gold at the Olympics.”
“Wasn’t she amazing?” Charlie asked rhetorically.
“It was better than the Battle of the Brians,” Vinny declared.
“Holy macaroni! Now that was a classic match-up,” Charlie recalled.
“Two skaters in their prime,” Vinny said. “Boitano was unstoppable.”
“Yes, he was,” Charlie agreed. “But Orser’s proven to be one heckuva coach.”
“This is how poor Jinx must feel when we all talk in Italian around the kitchen table,” Alberta muttered to herself.
“What did you say, Alfie?” Vinny asked.
“I thought you might want to show Charlie to his room and fill him in on everything you know about Pamela,” Alberta fibbed. “I’ll see you boys at dinner.”
“That’s a great idea!” Vinny beamed.
Grabbing Charlie’s suitcase that had been keeping the door open, Vinny put his arm around the photographer as if they were lifelong buddies, and led him out of the room.
“Did you know that Pamela’s favorite all-time program was Debussy’s Afternoon of a Faun?” Vinny announced rather than questioned. “Now that is a master class in skating, her edges, her flow, just first-rate as Dick Button would say.”
Thankfully the door closed behind the two men and prevented Alberta from hearing the rest of Vinny’s monologue. It was wonderful to witness her friend so excited in anticipation of seeing one of his favorite figure skaters up close and personal, but like her Grandma Marie would say when someone wanted a third helping of her manicotti—I tuoi occhi possono giocare brutti scherzi. Your eyes can play tricks on you. And what you see is not always good for you.
After a long road trip and some unanticipated excitement, Alberta knew what was right for her and Lola.
“I think it’s time you and I took a little catnap,” Alberta whispered in Lola’s ear. “Something tells me that tonight is going to be a memorable event.”
* * *
A few hours later sitting around a beautifully decorated table in the lodge’s main room, Alberta knew she was right. The air crackled with possibility and it wasn’t just the roaring fires in the two fireplaces on opposite sides of the room. It was the combination of being around a dinner table with people she loved and truly cared about and the impending arrival of a woman Alberta had never met, but who she was suddenly very excited to see.
The table was long and rectangular and, according to Cathy, a local artisan crafted it out of an oak tree that was struck by lightning during a terrible storm a few years ago. Alberta loved that the table was made from natural resources and had a life before being brought inside to give such pleasure to everyone who stayed at the lodge. Being Italian, Alberta knew the importance of the family dinner table, it connected the generations and kept everyone grounded despite their hectic lives and the fights and squabbles that were inevitable. When a family sat down at the table to eat, all was forgotten and most sins were forgiven. It was a place of peace, comfort, and love, and Alberta felt the energy of all three emotions sitting between Jinx and Sloan.
Sloan looked as handsome as ever, his blue corduroy shirt made his own blue eyes shimmer, and he was wearing the cologne Alberta loved. She kept forgetting the name of it, but it smelled like pine and vanilla, an odd combination, but somehow it worked. She imagined it was something Gary Cooper might wear to a party.
To her right was Jinx dressed in jeans and a red turtleneck sweater, her favorite color because it served as a canvas to show off her long, wavy jet-black hair. She had on minimal makeup, but Alberta noticed that she did apply her red lipstick with a stronger brush than usual, which made her plump lips even plumper. She had beautiful skin and long eyelashes so she wisely stayed away from adding makeup to highlight her features, the excess would detract from her natural beauty.
Freddy was to her right and it was obvious to Alberta and probably everyone around the table that Freddy only had eyes for Jinx. Fashion was not Freddy’s forte and he wore a simple plaid shirt and jeans, but his unkempt hair, bright eyes, and floppy ears gave him a youthful vigor that no preening could improve.
On the other side of the table sat Vinny, Joyce, Charlie, Father Sal, and Helen. They were all dressed warmly in sweaters and turtlenecks though Joyce, always the fashion plate, looked stunning in a tweed jacket, black pants, and a matching tweed cap. She looked like she’d sashayed into the lodge directly from the English countryside.
Alberta felt a tinge of pride wearing the brown and mustard vintage tweed Chanel pantsuit she recently bought, and for the first time felt like Joyce’s fashionable equal. She had definitely caught Sloan’s eye.
“Coco herself would be in awe of you in that outfit,” he whispered.
“That’s nice to hear, but I wasn’t trying to impress Ms. Chanel,” Alberta replied.
When Sloan grinned devilishly she knew her flirting had worked. But no matter how splendidly everyone was dressed, no one looked better than the main room itself. Above the fireplaces and the huge table, there were exposed beams on the ceiling from which hung two huge brass and metal chandeliers on opposite sides of the room. Several lived-in armchairs in plaid fabrics, two matching plum leather club chairs, and a couch with a subtle floral design that looked like the most comfortable sofa ever made were all arranged casually throughout the room.
Knickknacks and books were scattered around the room on small end tables, and bookcases and paintings of mountains and lakes hung from the walls to create a haphazard decor, kind of a rustic happenstance, that was inviting and warm.
The dining table was positioned perpendicular to the large window so no matter where you sat you simply had to turn to the left or the right to get a breathtaking view of Lake Ariel or the snowcapped mountains. And if you craned your neck just a bit you could see a portion of the ice-skating rink. That was if you could take your eyes off of the smorgasbord of food that took up most of the real estate on the table.
The main course was a hearty beef stew, but all around the table were baskets of bread, bowls of mashed potatoes, plates filled with brussels sprouts and asparagus, condiments, glasses of wine, carafes of water. And then there were the two thick brass candlestick holders, each holding three green candles that perfectly matched the green, black, and gold plaid runner that ran the length of the table.
Alberta had thrown many a party in her day and she knew how much work it took to make it look effortless. She was impressed by the attention to detail that went into this dinner, and she could tell by the happy faces around her chatting away and munching on their meal that she wasn’t alone in her evaluation.
She was just about to make a toast to Cathy and the staff of Icicle Lodge when the door to the main room flung open, bringing with it a burst of cold air and a woman who would prove to have even colder airs. The guest of honor had finally arrived and she was not nearly as happy about her entrance as the rest of the people sitting around the table.
“Some welcome this is! You couldn’t wait to eat until I got here?”
Pamela Gregory stood in the entranceway at the top of the stairs and she was everything Vinny promised she would be: a diva who understood how to command attention. She was wearing a full-length fox coat and a matching fox headband, her blonde hair contrasting perfectly with the red. Her hands were balled into fists resting on her hips and she was surveying the room with eyes the color of ice cubes.
If this was even half the power and ferocity she brought to the ice during her competitive years, Alberta feared, retroactively, for the other skaters. This was a woman whom you did not want to bump into in a dark rink.
Alberta shivered and it wasn’t because the cold air was rushing into the room, it was because she was remembering what her Grandma Marie had said. I tuoi occhi possono giocare brutti scherzi. Alberta knew in that one instant that no matter how beautiful and mesmerizing Pamela Gregory looked, Alberta could not trust her eyes. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she was certain that Pamela was no good, not for her or for anyone else in the room.