Chapter 68

The car crawled around the tight curves. Frances Noonan didn’t want to waste gas by braking. The gauge was on empty, and there were no gas stations at all. She hunched over the steering wheel, struggling to see farther ahead than the corners allowed. Her whole body was tense from holding back on her speed when all she wanted was to rocket forward. As she drove, a fog started to swirl around them, and then she had to strain to see the corners at all. She slowed further, willing the weather to improve.

“This is just like when we drove down here, remember Alma?” said Mr. Glenn.

“Oh, what a drive that was. No apple juice for Owen today.” Alma Gordon tousled his hair. Mrs. Noonan saw Baby Owen in the mirror, beaming back at Mrs. Gordon.

“When we get there, keep your eyes open for George.” Mrs. Noonan addressed this to Mr. Glenn. “You’re the only one who knows what he looks like. We’ll go to the office to try to find out what room they’re in. But if George sees us all, he might figure out why we’re there. It’s already going to look odd to be coming at all.”

“Why are we there? What exactly are we going to do?” asked Mr. Glenn.

“Well, now, I don’t actually know,” said Mrs. Noonan. “Find Sarah and Helen. Make sure they’re all right. Bring them back with us.”

“You mean us go back with them. We don’t have any gas,” said Mrs. Gordon.

“Whatever. However we can, we will all leave together,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“And what about the proprietor? Will we say anything to him?” asked Mrs. Gordon.

“No. We don’t really know anything for certain,” said Mrs. Noonan. “It’s more of a hunch and speculation. We’ll leave it all to the authorities. We can tell them everything we know in as coherent a way as we can and see if they can make something of it. Maybe start with Spencer Tremaine. His team may be able to put this together even better than the police. That’s what he’s paid for, certainly.”

“Spencer Tremaine.” Mrs. Gordon sighed sadly from the back seat.

“So, when we get there, just one of us should go in. Maybe me, and you, Mr. Glenn, can look around. If you see George, let us know somehow and keep him occupied,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“Okay, I’ll whistle,” said Mr. Glenn.

“I’ll try to find out the room number as fast as I can so we can track them down,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Gordon. “I hope they’re all right. That young mother. Those babies need her.”

“Look, there’s the sign,” said Mr. Glenn. “It says one-half mile. I think you can speed up now.”

Mrs. Noonan pressed on the gas pedal. The car did not accelerate. They were going up a hill. The engine sputtered.

“Ease off, ease off!” said Mr. Glenn.

She lifted her foot as the car reached the top of the hill. She left it off as the car slowly picked up speed heading down. “I think we’re running on fumes,” she said.

“But we’re going to make it!” said Mrs. Gordon. “Yippee!”

“Yippee!” said Baby Owen. Mrs. Noonan smiled. He mimicked everything he could these days. His vocabulary was better every time she saw him.

Mrs. Noonan’s foot was back on the pedal. The car inched around the corner into the resort and across the parking lot. She coasted to a stop near the office and they tumbled out. They waited while Mrs. Gordon leaned back in to unfasten Owen from his car seat. The fog danced in the wind like a living creature, moist and chilly. Mrs. Gordon pulled the toddler toward her chest under her sweater.

“Come on, come on,” hissed Mrs. Noonan. “We’ve got to find them.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Mrs. Gordon stood, the baby hanging on with his hands around her neck. She reached out to steady herself. “Not so tight, Owen.” She adjusted his position with her other hand. She still gripped the car door handle. Her face was pale next to Owen’s rosy cheeks.

“Alma, are you all right?” Mrs. Noonan kicked herself for hurrying her friend.

“Just stood up too fast. I’m a little dizzy.”

“Here, let me.” Mr. Glenn hoisted the toddler into his arms.

“Tuck him under here.” Mrs. Gordon brought Mr. Glenn’s jacket around and zipped Owen in. “He’s just getting over a cold.”

“We’ve got to hurry.” Mrs. Noonan stomped her foot, desperate to finally take action.

“I’ll just stand here a moment and equilibrate,” said Mrs. Gordon.

Forgetting what they discussed, Mrs. Noonan and Mr. Glenn both piled into the office, their voices loud from talking above the wind. They stopped abruptly when the proprietor appeared from the back room and stepped to the counter.

Mrs. Noonan recognized him from the photo. He smiled at them, eyebrows raised.

“May I help you?” he asked. “I’m afraid we don’t have any rooms.”

Mrs. Noonan tried desperately to think of something to say that didn’t sound idiotic.

He looked more closely at Mr. Glenn. “You’ve been a guest here before, am I right? If you really need a place to stay, maybe we can accommodate you in some way. We don’t open all our rooms in the winter, but we could arrange something today. We do suggest reservations, however.”

“We’re out of gas,” blurted Mrs. Noonan.

“Oh, certainly, out of gas. We can help you there. I’ll ask George to help you. It’s his day off, but I can easily fetch him from his cottage. I won’t be a moment. Please have some tea.” He motioned to the hot water pot and the selection of tea.

Quite a generous selection, thought Mrs. Noonan. The place was nice. As soon as he was out the door, she craned her head over the counter to look for some sort of registry. Right on top of a neat stack of papers was the listing for the day, and she immediately saw “James, S” written next to room twelve.

“While he gets George, we can get Sarah and Helen. Room twelve,” she said. “Which way?”

“I think we were in room twelve,” said Mr. Glenn. “It’s on the other side of the building.”

“Let’s go,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“Let go!” said Baby Owen from Mr. Glenn’s chest.

“Shouldn’t we wait until he comes back?” asked Mr. Glenn. “Won’t he think it’s strange if we leave?”

“Let’s write him a note. Say you wanted to show me around.” Mrs. Noonan grabbed a memo pad and a pencil. She scratched a quick note and left it on the counter. Mr. Glenn opened the door and she waved him through. “Lead on.”

Mrs. Gordon was shuffling across the parking lot when they came out.

“It’s our same room,” said Mr. Glenn.

Mr. Glenn and Baby Owen led the way, then Mrs. Noonan. Mrs. Gordon slowly followed.

“Alma, Alma, a little faster,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“My foot’s got a crick in it from the drive. It won’t bend right. You go on ahead. I’ll be along.”

Mrs. Noonan charged out in front, searching for the room numbers through the tufting fog.

“Twelve. Here it is.” She knocked loudly on the door. At first no one answered. Then they heard a rustling.

“Who is it?” Sarah called from inside.

“Oh, thank God. Sarah, it’s us, Frances and Alma. Open up.”