Chapter Two
Florence’s gaze was fixed on Winky, whose pregnant tortoiseshell belly swung from side to side as she padded across the family room and out into the foyer. “So what do you think, missus? Are you going to do it?”
Jane sipped her tea. She had just told Florence what Adam had asked her to do.
Adam had recently bought Mt. Munsee Lodge, located at the top of Mt. Munsee at the northernmost end of Shady Hills. The lodge was a popular spot for hikers and campers, except in the winter, when the lodge’s previous owner had shut it down. But Adam had come up with an idea to make money in the off-season. He had been sponsoring five-day “theme retreats” on topics ranging from yoga to investing.
Adam had scheduled a retreat for would-be antiques dealers for the following week—the week between Christmas and New Year’s—but had learned that morning that its leader would be unable to appear because his wife was quite ill.
It was Rhoda who had come up with the idea of organizing a fiction writers’ retreat to take the place of the antiques one.
Florence said, “Why doesn’t he forget about it and enjoy the holidays?” A smile brightened her pretty coffee-colored face. “He doesn’t need the money.”
“Apparently he does,” Jane said. “Or, to put it another way, it would help.”
“I see . . .” Florence said thoughtfully. “But how can such a thing possibly be arranged on such short notice?”
“The lodge is small, so we wouldn’t need many people. And Adam says he always has one-on-one instruction at these retreats—which is another reason why there can’t be too many attendees. He said that if I can round up six instructors besides myself, he’ll sign up six attendees from a writers’ group here in town.”
“What writers’ group?”
“The Midnight Writers. I had no idea they even existed.”
“Could you ‘round up’ six instructors?” Florence asked.
“I’m not sure. Probably, if I set my mind to it. I’d call editors, authors, other agents—nah, just editors and authors—and could probably come up with six.”
“Don’t you want to take the week between Christmas and New Year’s off? You do that every year.”
“True—which is why I’m available. I’ve been looking forward to spending the time with Nick, but I really do feel I should help Rhoda and Adam out with this. Besides, I’ve just had my vacation—I’m not in dire need of a rest.” Less than a month earlier, Jane had spent two glorious weeks in Antigua. “And I’ll make it up to Nick.”
“You may miss the blessed event,” Florence said, referring to Winky’s imminent delivery. She rose from the sofa and took Jane’s teacup. “Dinner in twenty minutes.” She walked into the kitchen and stopped to glare at Nick’s books and papers strewn all over the table. Jane heard her open the back door. “Master Nicholas,” Florence called out into the garage. “Put down the snow shovel and come in here. Your homework is all over the table, and from the looks of it, none of it is done.”
“Take it easy, I’m coming,” came Nick’s voice, followed by a giggle from Florence.
Laughing herself, Jane headed for her study off the living room to start making phone calls. The first would be to Adam, to tell him she’d decided to help him out.
It was a few minutes before nine that evening when Jane put down the phone, having successfully recruited six instructors for the fiction writers’ retreat.
The phone rang. It was Ivy.
“I had to tell you how terrific it was to see you again, Jane. I hope we can be friends again, after everything that happened. I mean friends like the old days. I didn’t get a chance to say that to you today, but I don’t blame you at all for Marlene’s death. I miss her terribly—she was all I had—but I know that none of it was your fault.”
“Thank you, Ivy, I appreciate your saying that. Of course we can be friends again.”
“I’m so glad. There was something else I forgot to ask you today. How is little Nicholas?”
“Not so little anymore—ten and a half years old.”
“He can’t be. I’d love to see him,” Ivy said wistfully.
“I’m sure you will one day soon.”
“Mmm. It must be nice for you to have him with you at Christmas. I mean, now that Kenneth is gone.” Kenneth, Jane’s late husband, had died a little over three years before.
“Yes.” Jane felt uneasy. “Will you and Johnny be doing anything special for the holidays?”
“He’ll be away. Business trip. He says he can’t get out of it. You know how it is.” Ivy let out a sigh. “This will be my second Christmas without Marlene. I suppose one day I’ll get used to it.” There was a long silence on the line.
Alone at Christmas . . .
“Ivy,” Jane blurted out, “why don’t you spend Christmas out here with us?”
“With you? Why, Jane, what an idea. But I couldn’t—I’d be in the way.”
“No, you wouldn’t. We’d love to have you. You’ll get to see Nick, and you’ll love Florence—she’s Nick’s nanny, and a wonderful person.”
“If you really think it would be all right . . .”
“Of course I do.” Then Jane thought of something. “One thing, though. Right after Christmas—next Wednesday—I’ve got to go to a retreat I’m helping organize.” She told Ivy all about it. “But we’d still be together during the holiday.”
“True. Hey, Jane, do you think I could come on your retreat with you? I’m taking that week off from work. Wouldn’t it be a gas?”
Jane frowned. “I don’t think that would be possible, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, I’d be in the way, I suppose.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“I could help out,” Ivy said eagerly. “Hand out paper and pencils, things like that. I’m very organized, as you know.”
Jane had never thought of Ivy as being especially organized. She made no comment as to that. “I’ve never been to this lodge. I’m not sure there’s room.”
“I guess you’d have your own room, huh?”
“Yes, I imagine.”
“Then we could room together. It would be like the old days at school. Wouldn’t it be fun? Just you and me, hanging out in our jammies, eating Cheese Curls? What a way to spend the holidays. No chance I’d be lonely then.”
Jane’s heart went out to her old friend. How could Adam object if Jane shared her room with Ivy? “I guess it would be all right. . . .”
“You don’t sound very sure.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Jane said kindly. “I’d love to have you with me at the retreat.”
“You and me and Cheese Curls. When should I come out to your house?”
The next day was Saturday. “Why not tomorrow? Then we can have the weekend to catch up, and Monday night is Christmas Eve.”
“Perfect. Oh, Jane,” Ivy said, tears coming into her voice, “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you. I’m glad we’re not letting what happened ruin our friendship. You’re my oldest friend—my best friend.”
Still feeling uneasy, Jane averred that she was glad, too. Then they made plans. Ivy, who had no car, would take a Lakeland bus the next morning from New York City’s Port Authority Bus Terminal to Shady Hills. Jane would be waiting for her bus.