Chapter 34: Haunted Houses
The Darling Mermaid Darlings were fine with their daughter going off on her own, when she was not method acting the role of Assistant. However, they had also strongly suggested (some might say imposed) a curfew of sorts. If the girl named Chuck decided to stay out late, then she would have to call and let them know she was all right…
It came as no surprise then that she returned to her room to find them in it. Lily and Vivian stood up off the chaise lounge; slammed their drinks down…
"Charlotte Charles-"
Before they could unload on her, she held up her hands and blurted out: "I was with Gene."
"You- who?" Lily faltered. "The cute pilot?"
"Your words, not mine," she murmured, deciding in the moment that she would have to be honest – about some of this at least. "I wanted to call and tell you but…he kind of dropped a bomb on me. I got distracted picking through the wreckage."
"…okaaaay? Let's pause and rewind a couple seconds. I thought he left."
She hesitated, remembering their capacity for fainting spells, and gestured to the chair. "You might want to sit back down…"
They talked for so long that Chuck began to feel a rumble in her stomach, like rock fall. The sound of it grew uncomfortably loud as she realized she had not eaten since she left the hotel hours ago. Without a word Vivian got up to pillage the minibar (something Jimmy Neptune had expressly forbidden)…
"Well," her aunt sighed, tossing the loot into her waiting arms. "Even if Gene is on the level, it's only a matter of time before his people find out what he's hiding."
"You read my mind," said Lily, staring into the depths of her drink. "These government dicks might be incompetent, but they're not that incompetent."
They both seemed so calm that Chuck dared not speak. She hardly moved, as if trying not to spook a couple of squirrels eating from her palm.
"So…you thinking what I'm thinking?" Lily prodded.
Vivian nodded. "We need to leave."
Chuck felt her empty stomach deflate like a balloon. "What?!"
"You heard her, kid. It's last call – you don't gotta go home but you can't stay here."
"Wait-"
"We say nothing to Jimmy," her mother carried on like a bulldozer. "You certainly don't say anything more to Eugene-"
At that moment, Chuck was struck by the thought of Ned trying to call, not getting through, not knowing where she had gone… "Hold the freaking phone!"
She was on her feet now, body buzzing like a hive of anxiety. They had not come all this way just to run and hide again at the first sign of trouble.
"We're here. Your show is in three weeks. People are already buying tickets. We are NOT running."
"Charlotte-"
"Eugene will look out for us." And so would Charles Charles… "Please, just trust me for once and don't panic."
As they stared at her, wide-eyed and silent, she felt the tug of guilt, demanding her attention. How could she ask them to trust her when she was withholding so much of the truth?
"Well…all right, Charlotte," Vivian warbled. "If you feel that strongly about it. But from now on we should at least have a grab-and-go bag. Money, passports, a change of clothes. For just in case."
Chuck nodded hard, snatching up the nearest snack and scarfing it down, along with any self-reproach. This was a second chance at life, for all of them. She would not let them waste it…
XXX
Olive roamed the halls of her childhood home, dragging Emerson along while she explained the story behind every portrait on the wall. It was as if her greatest hits had been turned into an exhibit, curated by her parents, and now she felt compelled to give a guided tour of her life. Her first trophy as a young jockey; her first school musical (Grease – she stole the show as Frenchy); her first foray into beauty pageants…
"That was more for Mother," she muttered, the memory of it lingering like sour milk on her tongue. "She heard her friends' daughters were doing it and decided I had to compete in something more becoming of a lady."
"Well, looks like you were enjoying yourself," Emerson scoffed, tapping a finger to her winning, grinning visage.
Olive smirked. "Because that was the exact moment I realized I could peacefully protest the whole shebang. So for the next pageant I self-sabotaged. But I made it look like I was really trying, you know, for plausible deniability." She tilted her head, taking in the admittedly pretty, periwinkle blue gown. "Still got third runner up somehow, but I never had to participate again."
"Smart cookie."
She tipped her nonexistent hat in thanks, just as the sound of briskly paced footsteps drew their attention. It was Mr. Babineaux, wearing a rather dapper shade of burgundy tweed…
"Miss Snook, Mr. Cod," he said, nodding to them.
Olive forced a smile, not quite comfortable with the Estate Manager yet. He was hired long after she left home, but her parents must have liked him, since they refrained from firing him over the past five years. Indeed, it could hardly be denied that he was efficient. Since they arrived, he had kept all four guests fed and watered; made sure their laundry was pressed, and their beddings were fresh. One could argue he had done nothing to make them uncomfortable. If anything, it seemed that they had unsettled him…
"Your friend Ned is on the line."
The words hit her like a cudgel and Olive swayed in place for a moment, so relieved she could have collapsed under the weight of it.
"You may take the call in the main lounge if you wish-"
Before he even finished talking, Olive had already grabbed Emerson by the wrist and led him away.
"Ned?" she said, pressing the pearly, gilded receiver to her ear – Emerson leaning down to hear as well. "Are you okay? Are the twins okay?"
"Yeah," his voice came through, croaky and overexerted. He sounded tired, but alive. "We're okay. Except for the whole…Maurice and Ralston finally finding out what we've been hiding…thing. And now that Dwight has all three watches, I think he's moved on to sandier pastures."
Olive and Emerson glanced at each other, neither wanting to acknowledge this Pyrrhic victory.
"So you still comin' or what?" said Cod. And in that moment, she realized the Pie Maker might want to stay with his father and brothers… "Because Chatty Cathy over here has not stopped yappin' and I ain't built to be a sounding board."
Olive jabbed him in the ribs (but with only half the necessary force) as she focused on how Ned would respond…
"I might be a little weathered, but after all these years I'm pretty used to being her sounding board." At that Olive had to bite back a smile, suddenly self-conscious about Emerson listening in. "I'm on my way."
XXX
In the brief time since they arrived, Emerson could tell Olive had turned anxious, aimless even. She was always on the move, a restless spirit in search of some form of distraction. After her tour she convinced him to walk Digby and Pigby with her, chattering the entire time they wandered the grounds. She even insisted on a round of tennis, refusing to accept his extremely valid excuse that he did not own any sports attire…
"We must have a spare pair of shorts somewhere-"
"I ain't wearin' no second-hand shorts," he said, holding a hand up to her face. "I don't care how many times Babineaux washed 'em."
And so Olive was left to play against the tennis ball machine, volleying with such intensity at times that it reminded him of watching Wimbledon.
Whether it came down to the absence of the Pie Maker, or the looming presence of her parents, she was not happy to be home…
"Good game," he conceded, giving her sweaty shoulder a sympathetic pat as she sat down next to him, huffing and puffing.
Perhaps the next time they needed to flee to safety, they would pay a visit to Calista Cod instead.
A/N: So that was a bit a set up chapter, but more action to come! Thanks for reading, whoever's out there x