leaving this morning. Do you need a ride back to Seattle?”
“No, thanks. I can manage.’,’
“All right.” Trixie turned her ponderous bulk and started away. Then she stopped and returned to our table. “Under the circumstances, it’s probably best if you don’t go to Sig’s funeral. “
All color seeped from Ginger’s cheeks, but she allowed herself no other visible reaction to Trixie’s words. “Why not?” Ginger asked. Her question seemed to take Trixie aback.
“Well, considering c ” Trixie retreated under Ginger’s withering gaze, turned, and in a rustle of skirt and nylons; left the room.
Ginger carefully placed her fork on her plate and pushed it away. “Can we go?”
I took one look at her face and knew I’d better get her out of there fast. Trixie Bowdeen had just layered on the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Chapter 9
THE fastest way out of the building was down the back stairs and out past the long, narrow, bowling-alley-shaped indoor pool. By the time we reached the terrace outside, Ginger’s sob burst to the surface. She rushed to the guardrail and stood leaning over it, her shoulders heaving, while I stood helplessly to one side with my hands jammed deep in my pockets so I wouldn’t reach out to hold her.
I’ve never seen fog anywhere that quite compares to Orcas Island fog. One moment we stood in the open; the next we were alone in a private world. As the fog swept in, Ginger faded to a shadow. I moved toward her, grasping her hand as the building disappeared behind us. She was still crying, the sound strangely muffled in the uncanny silence. Pulling her to me, I rocked her against my chest until she quieted. I continued to hold her, but I also glanced over my shoulder to verify we were still invisible to the dining room windows. She drew a ragged breath.
“Are you all right now?”
She nodded. “I am. Really.”
“That was an ugly thing for her to do.”
“Trixie enjoyed passing along Mona’s message.” There was a shift in Ginger’s voice, a strengthening of resolve. “I’ve got to resign. Without Sig, I can’t stand up to those people. They’re all cut from the same cloth.”
Ginger broke away from me and moved along the terrace, running her hand disconsolately along the guardrail. I trailed behind her, at a loss for words, wondering what made her think Trixie had served as Mona’s emissary. “The fog feels like velvet,” Ginger commented. “I wish I could hide in it forever and never come out.”
“That’s not the answer.”
“Isn’t it? When you’re drunk you don’t feel the hurt.”
“What are you going to do?” Her remark had sounded like a threat to start drinking.
If she was truly a recovering alcoholic. a drink was the last thing she needed.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll go to a meeting. There’s one in Eastsound tonight.”
“What meeting?”
“An A.A. meeting. Whenever Sig and I were on the road, we went to meetings together.
We planned to go to this one tonight. I don’t remember where it is.”
“Can I come?”
Ginger stopped and faced me, looking deep into my eyes before she shook her head.
“It’s a closed meeting, Beau, not an open one where everyone is welcome. I’ll go by myself. If I’m not going to Sig’s funeral, it’ll be my private remembrance for him. “
She made the statement with absolute conviction. I couldn’t help but respect her desire to have a private farewell for the man who had pulled her from the mire. We didn’t discuss it again. The subject was closed. The fog lifted as quickly as it had come. I moved discreetly away from her. “You’re one hell of a woman, Ginger Watkins, I’ll say that for you.” She gave me a halfhearted smile and started toward the building.
“Are you sure you want to go in there? There’s probably a 47
whole armload of reporters having breakfast by now. The murder of a public official is big news.”
She stopped, considering my words.
“No, thanks. I can manage.’,’
“All right.” Trixie turned her ponderous bulk and started away. Then she stopped and returned to our table. “Under the circumstances, it’s probably best if you don’t go to Sig’s funeral. “
All color seeped from Ginger’s cheeks, but she allowed herself no other visible reaction to Trixie’s words. “Why not?” Ginger asked. Her question seemed to take Trixie aback.
“Well, considering c ” Trixie retreated under Ginger’s withering gaze, turned, and in a rustle of skirt and nylons; left the room.
Ginger carefully placed her fork on her plate and pushed it away. “Can we go?”
I took one look at her face and knew I’d better get her out of there fast. Trixie Bowdeen had just layered on the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Chapter 9
THE fastest way out of the building was down the back stairs and out past the long, narrow, bowling-alley-shaped indoor pool. By the time we reached the terrace outside, Ginger’s sob burst to the surface. She rushed to the guardrail and stood leaning over it, her shoulders heaving, while I stood helplessly to one side with my hands jammed deep in my pockets so I wouldn’t reach out to hold her.
I’ve never seen fog anywhere that quite compares to Orcas Island fog. One moment we stood in the open; the next we were alone in a private world. As the fog swept in, Ginger faded to a shadow. I moved toward her, grasping her hand as the building disappeared behind us. She was still crying, the sound strangely muffled in the uncanny silence. Pulling her to me, I rocked her against my chest until she quieted. I continued to hold her, but I also glanced over my shoulder to verify we were still invisible to the dining room windows. She drew a ragged breath.
“Are you all right now?”
She nodded. “I am. Really.”
“That was an ugly thing for her to do.”
“Trixie enjoyed passing along Mona’s message.” There was a shift in Ginger’s voice, a strengthening of resolve. “I’ve got to resign. Without Sig, I can’t stand up to those people. They’re all cut from the same cloth.”
Ginger broke away from me and moved along the terrace, running her hand disconsolately along the guardrail. I trailed behind her, at a loss for words, wondering what made her think Trixie had served as Mona’s emissary. “The fog feels like velvet,” Ginger commented. “I wish I could hide in it forever and never come out.”
“That’s not the answer.”
“Isn’t it? When you’re drunk you don’t feel the hurt.”
“What are you going to do?” Her remark had sounded like a threat to start drinking.
If she was truly a recovering alcoholic. a drink was the last thing she needed.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll go to a meeting. There’s one in Eastsound tonight.”
“What meeting?”
“An A.A. meeting. Whenever Sig and I were on the road, we went to meetings together.
We planned to go to this one tonight. I don’t remember where it is.”
“Can I come?”
Ginger stopped and faced me, looking deep into my eyes before she shook her head.
“It’s a closed meeting, Beau, not an open one where everyone is welcome. I’ll go by myself. If I’m not going to Sig’s funeral, it’ll be my private remembrance for him. “
She made the statement with absolute conviction. I couldn’t help but respect her desire to have a private farewell for the man who had pulled her from the mire. We didn’t discuss it again. The subject was closed. The fog lifted as quickly as it had come. I moved discreetly away from her. “You’re one hell of a woman, Ginger Watkins, I’ll say that for you.” She gave me a halfhearted smile and started toward the building.
“Are you sure you want to go in there? There’s probably a 47
whole armload of reporters having breakfast by now. The murder of a public official is big news.”
She stopped, considering my words.
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