Clam Wake (2 page)

“Your husband,” Judith replied. “Please don't tell me Bill's lost
his
suitcase.”

“Oh, he's got that,” Renie said. “But he can't find the big envelope with his plane ticket and reservations. He thinks I set the whole thing on fire. Is he nuts? I never got a chance to look at all the stuff Joe brought over here. I'll be glad to see Bill go. If I weren't afraid to fly, I'd pilot the plane myself.”

“In twelve hours the husbands will be airborne,” Judith reminded Renie. “We'll be left in peace. Oh—did you know Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince are coming into town tomorrow?”

“Yes, Mom told me. Six times. You know how she likes to call to make sure I haven't been kidnapped by Somali pirates. Gee—do you suppose that before they sail, their wives have to find all their weapons and list of demands and the how-to-negotiate guidebook?”

“Probably,” Judith said, hearing a loud yelp in the background followed by a lot of cussing. “What's that?” she asked.

“Bill. What else? Hang on.”

Judith could hear her cousin inquiring if Bill was dying. Since he answered, she figured he wasn't. The exchange between husband and wife was surprisingly calm. Too calm, since Judith couldn't hear what they were saying.

“Sheesh,” Renie finally uttered. “Bill found his stuff. He was sitting on it. If he didn't use four pillows on his favorite chair when he watches TV, he might've . . . never mind. Crisis averted. I'm going downstairs to finish the gas company's annual report concept.” She hung up.

It was after eleven by the time Joe finally got himself organized—with Judith's help, of course.

“I have to get up at five to get ready for the shuttle,” Joe groused as they climbed the stairs to the family quarters on the third floor. “I'll try not to wake you.”

“You bet you'll try,” Judith said, taking her time. The day's hectic activity had made her artificial hip ache. “But wake me before you leave.”

“You sure you want me to do that?” Joe asked as they reached the top of the stairs.

Judith smiled. “Of course. I really will miss you.”

The gold flecks danced in Joe's green eyes. “Then maybe we should have a little farewell party now.”

“Won't that mean you'll get even less sleep?”

Joe put his arm around Judith, leading her into the bedroom. “I can sleep on the plane.”

Judith leaned against him. “I really hope you have a good time.”

“I will.” Joe brushed her lips with his fingers. “Starting now.”

A
t six thirty the next morning, Judith barely recalled Joe's mumbled words of farewell. Struggling out of bed, she blinked several times before looking out the window. It was still dark, but she could hear the patter of rain on the shrubbery next to the house. She was in the kitchen by seven, ready to face the day—without Joe. Judith already missed his help preparing the guests' breakfast. Even when Joe was on a PI assignment, he rarely stayed out all night. That was a promise he'd made after retiring as a detective for the police department.

Phyliss arrived at nine. The elderly couple from Topeka had almost finished breakfast. Their son was picking them up at nine thirty. The British Columbia sisters hadn't yet come downstairs, but Jack Larrabee showed up just as the golden agers rose from the table.

“Is it true it never stops raining?” he asked.

“Yes,” Judith replied. “January is usually wet. We often have a lot of wind, too. Sometimes it snows.”

“It wasn't raining in Portland,” Jack said.

“That's further south. But the Oregonians have a reason for calling themselves Webfoots. Have you never been to this part of the country?”

Jack shook his head. “The farthest north I've been until now is San Francisco. Talk about wind—and fog. Don't you people get depressed?”

“Yes. I think we-–along with San Francisco—have the highest suicide rate in the country. Unless, of course, cities in Alaska have got us beat. Those endless days—and endless nights, you know.”

Jack shuddered. “I gather you're not a good PR type for travelers.”

“No. So many visit when we have our four or five days of sunshine. Then they want to move here. We're getting too crowded. Traffic is horrendous. There are a lot of terrible accidents, with a high rate of fatalities. Newcomers don't know how to drive in the rain.”

Jack seemed mildly surprised. “You make this city sound like hell.”

Judith shrugged. “I'm only being candid. You may find some people with other opinions. But they probably got here only a month or so ago. I do recall a sunny day in early December. After the fog lifted, of course.”
Good grief
, Judith thought,
am I turning into Renie? I'm being utterly perverse. I need a vacation
.

“Yes,” Jack murmured. “I'll do that. Where should I go to find these more upbeat people?”

“Try the zoo. Locals like watching the animals in the rain.” Hearing the spinster sisters in the hall, she scurried back into the kitchen.

“What animals?” Phyliss asked, pausing in her task of cleaning the backsplash by the sink. “With all this rain, they're lining up two by two.”

Judith ignored the comment, lest the cleaning woman start in on Noah, which would inevitably lead to Judith asking where he'd found penguins and kangaroos in the Holy Land. Phyliss's answer would be that those kind of creatures didn't exist back then.

By eleven, the sisters from BC had checked out. Shortly before noon, Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince arrived.

“Okay, twerp, we got clams,” Judith's buxom aunt declared, setting a large bucket on the hallway floor. “How many do you and my addled sister-in-law want?”

“Um . . .” Judith gazed at the pile of littleneck, Manila, and butter clams. “Nice. Can I take a couple of gallons? In the shell, I mean.”

Auntie Vance looked irked. “How else? I dig, you clean.” She turned to Uncle Vince, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. “Hey, Weber, wake up! Didn't you get enough sleep while you were driving from the ferry dock?”

“Wha'? Oh, right, Little Girl,” Vince said, using his affectionate, if not accurate, pet name for Vanessa. “Hi, Judith.” He pecked her on the cheek and immediately headed for a kitchen chair.

Judith smiled faintly, accustomed to the nickname that he'd always called his Amazonian wife. She was also used to her uncle's habit of nodding off any place, any time, and under any conditions. He'd been a dairy deliveryman for his entire career and had never recovered from getting up at three
A
.
M
. Thus he had never been able to break the pattern of going to sleep in broad daylight. The Webers had dated for years, marrying late in life, and had never had children. Instead, they lavished good deeds on the entire Grover clan, though Auntie Vance would only scoff at efforts to repay them for their kindnesses.

“Get some jars,” Vance ordered. “You sure you want two gallons?”

“Yes,” Judith said, before going in the pantry. “Even with Joe gone, Mother and I can eat that many clams before the weekend's over.”

“No, you can't,” Vance asserted. “You won't be here for the weekend. Vince and I leave tomorrow to visit Ellen and Win in Beatrice, Nebraska. You're going to house-sit for us. It's all arranged. Now, how many clams do you really want?”

J
udith's mouth fell open. “What?”

“You heard me,” Vance said. “I already told Gert and talked to the Rankers. They'll fill in for you here while you're on Whoopee Island. You'll probably want to take Renie with you, so we'll stop off to give her the news on our way back home.”

Judith started to protest. “But—”

“No buts, butt-head.” Vance laughed. “God, I haven't seen you look so surprised since you and Renie made yourselves into a horse for my birthday party forty years ago. You fell down and Renie lost her rear end. She looked kind of surprised, too. Talk about a couple of horse's—”

“Stop!” Judith held up her hands. “I need to sit. Please, Auntie Vance. Wouldn't you like some coffee?”

“I'm fine. Stick Vince's head in the pot and maybe he'll wake up. Or drown.” She charged ahead into the kitchen.

Despite her harsh words, Vance poured coffee for Judith and Vince before joining them at the table. “Okay, here's why we're going to Beatrice. Aunt Ellen's having shoulder surgery today. You know how she works three jobs and is involved in at least two dozen volunteer organizations. Uncle Win can't keep up with all that while she's in the hospital, so we volunteered to help. We won't be gone more than a week. My sister can't stay put any longer than that, and once she's mobile, we'll take off before Ellen and I kill each other.”

Judith nodded faintly. Uncle Vince just nodded off.

“As for you and Renie coming up to our place,” Vance went on, “there's an emergency meeting tomorrow night of everybody who lives at Obsession Shores. In the past few months there's been a lot of wrangling with some of the local morons, including a couple of new owners who bought land that won't percolate. You know that means they can't put in a septic tank. The dumb-asses should never have bought in, but that's what dumb-asses do—dumb-assed stuff. Anyway, they're trying to run a sewer line through the development, and if you think the rest of us want to pay for something like that, then you're a dumb-ass, too.”

“Of course you wouldn't want that,” Judith agreed. “But if there are only two couples, aren't they outnumbered about thirty to one?”

Vance shook her curly graying blond head. “You're right about the number of owners, but the original population has aged since we moved up there after Vince retired. Close to a third of them head south for the winter. And there are another dozen or more who only live at Obsession Shores in the summer. I doubt many—even any—of them will bother coming to the island for the meeting.”

“So,” Judith said, “what are Renie and I supposed to do? Blow up the place wherever this civil war is going to be fought?”

“That's right,” Vance asserted. “I've named you and Renie as our proxies. That's legal, so you'll represent us. Of course you'll vote no.”

“Of course.” Judith made a face. “Did I just say that?”

Vance slapped her hand on the table. “Yes. Now be damned sure you take an early ferry. It may be winter, but there's still quite a bit of weekend traffic over to the island. Off-season for crab pots, by the way.”

“Darn,” Judith said softly. “Are you sure all of this is okay with Arlene and Carl?”

“You bet your ass it is, twerp. I gave them a pile of clams, too. Lucky we were able to catch the Rankerses before they head for Palm Springs at the end of the month. Carl and Arlene are glad to get out of the house. Their downstairs is being painted starting on Monday.”

“Monday?” Judith echoed. “Won't Renie and I be back by then?”

“Well . . .” Vance paused to nudge Vince, whose face was getting dangerously close to his coffee mug. “Knowing you, somebody on the island might get killed over this fracas and you'll want to stick around to figure out whodunit.”

“That's not funny!” Judith cried. “I've retired from doing that.”

“Oh, hell,” Vance said, standing up and hauling Vince to his feet, “half of the people who live there are retired. You'll fit right in. You sure you want two gallons of clams?”

Judith had also gotten to her feet. “Oh . . . maybe just one. I suppose Renie and I could dig our own. It'd help pass the time. Of course she may not come with me. She's working on some annual reports. Are you going to see her now?”

“Right.” Vance dragged Vince down the back hall. “She'll come. She can always work on them at our place. She just draws a bunch of stuff anyway. How hard is that, unless she busts all her crayons?”

“It's a lot more complicated than—”

“By the way,” Vance broke in, “I made my beef noodle bake, so your dinner's ready to heat. I baked ginger snaps and made Grandma Grover's coffee cake. Oh—I made a boysenberry pie, too. You won't starve.”

“Thanks,” Judith said, feeling overwhelmed. “You didn't need to—”

But Vince interrupted, his pleasant face wearing the familiar worried look that was only noticeable when he was fully conscious. “Don't take my boat out. It gets real choppy out there in January.”

Vance glared at her husband. “You think dead calm is choppy. That wreck of a boat hasn't been out in six years.”

“It just needs a bit of work,” Vince murmured. “Good to see you, Judith. Have fun on The Rock. Stay warm and dry.”

“Thanks,” Judith replied. “We'll try our best to do . . . both.”

Vance laughed. “Did I ever tell you we were married for three years before I realized Vince could talk? Let's go,” she said, giving her husband another nudge. “You need to take a nap behind the wheel.”

Judith watched the Webers walk away, arm in arm. Or maybe Vance was holding up Vince. It was hard to tell with her aunt and uncle.

R
enie called half an hour later. “Okay, so I caved. What is it about Auntie Vance that makes everybody do her bidding? Except maybe Aunt Ellen when she visits from Beatrice? They're two of a kind. Sort of. Aunt Ellen always seems like she's on speed.”

“I know. Auntie Vance is an irresistible force. Both Grover sisters are . . . awesome. The brothers were never introverts. My father was the quietest of the bunch, but he certainly was immovable when he expressed his opinions.”

“My dad was, too,” Renie said, “but in a droll, succinct sort of way. When he wasn't cussing and throwing things, of course.”

“You're sure you can work on your projects at the island?”