Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bonfire
"Jesus. Looks like the whole camp is here," Frank said with quiet distaste.
Nancy grabbed the elder Hardy's shoulder for balance, having collided with him when he halted to assess the crowd by the lake.
"Vanessa did say it was a popular event," she reminded him.
"Poison ivy makes him grouchy," Joe said.
"You'd be grouchy, too, if you were covered in blisters and calamine," Frank said.
"Gross," Nancy commented.
"I appreciate the compassion," Frank said dryly. A glint of humor had returned to his eyes.
"I can see why people like this," Joe said, leading the way forward.
Nancy nodded. The crackling fire, the soft summer evening, and the lake water sparkling in the slanting sunlight made an enticing backdrop for the picnic buffet set out in a lakeside pavilion. Adults and teens clustered in conversational groups. Laughing children raced across the lawn. Somewhere, someone was playing a guitar, and several voices sang along.
"Wonderwall, seriously?" Frank muttered. "Could this get worse?"
"Teen Ghostbuster, two o'clock," Joe said in an undertone, indicating Daria, and Frank groaned.
"Yep, it got worse."
Nancy smothered a laugh by turning it into a cough. "I think she's waving at you, Finn."
"I changed my mind. This is a crowded hellscape and I am going to go start my stakeout shift early," Frank said.
"Pretend you didn't see her," Nancy advised.
"She's just going to come over here. She's doing that eye thing girls do."
"What eye thing?" Nancy asked.
"Like you don't know."
"You're going to have to clarify," Nancy said.
"I would, but I need not to be here."
"Hang on," Joe said. "Don't flee yet. Here comes Vince."
Vince strode over to them, carrying a large caddy of bamboo utensils and paper napkins. Andrea trailed in his wake, similarly burdened with an enormous platter of brownies.
"Vince!" Frank said hastily. "Great turnout."
Andrea beamed over her mountain of dessert. "They love it," she said proudly. "It's one of our most popular weekly attractions. The atmosphere is fantastic."
"I couldn't agree more," Nancy said. "This is a lovely site for a picnic."
Joe reached for the brownies. "Let me take those for you," he said politely.
"Aren't you a gentleman! Thanks, love. If you could just set them on the end of the buffet table, then I can go take this to Nessa." Andrea held up the water bottle she had been holding tucked between her side and her elbow. She turned confidingly toward Nancy as Joe moved away with the platter. "The poor thing is lying down on the sofa in the office. She's been so nauseous all afternoon. You know how it is."
I do now, Nancy thought, with a jolt of comprehension as days' worth of Vanessa's offhand comments and moments of oddness suddenly clicked into a recognizable pattern.
"I hope she'll feel better soon," she said aloud, concealing her spinning thoughts behind a mask of bland concern.
"My girlfriends always said it got better in the second trimester," Andrea said, "but I was sick as a dog the whole time with Vanessa. I ended up in the hospital twice."
"How terrible," Nancy said politely.
"She was worth it, of course. But hopefully I didn't pass that along. Her grandmother on her father's side never had any problems. Healthy as a horse every time, she said."
"How far along is she?" Nancy asked carefully.
"Only seven weeks," Andrea said. "She didn't tell you that?"
Nancy shook her head. "I'm afraid the subject never came up."
Andrea's eyes widened. "Oh, my god, me and my big mouth. I just assumed she'd told you. She's so private about it, but– oh, I can't believe I did that."
"You have my word that I won't gossip," Nancy said quickly. "I'm sure she meant to tell us at some point."
"It's typical Nessa," Andrea said indulgently. "You know her. She hates to look anything but poised and polished. On second thought I'm not surprised she played her cards close, you know? Especially in front of an old boyfriend. She'd hate looking anything less than perfect in front of him."
She certainly didn't want him to know, Nancy thought acerbically. Oh my god. Is that why she's been angling to hook up with him? Does she want to pin the pregnancy on him? No, she must know he can count better than that. Unless…
Her mind was spinning. She took a long, careful breath and pretended to listen to the anecdote Andrea was telling about her own pregnancy.
"Anyway," the woman concluded, much to Nancy's relief. "I won't keep you. I'm sure Vanessa will be out soon to check in with you guys. She's a trooper."
"Please tell her to take her time," Nancy urged. "There's really no urgency. We have things well in hand."
"Oh, I know, but she really hates being out of the loop," Andrea said indulgently. "I'll see you later, I'm sure. Enjoy the party!" She gave Vince a peck on the cheek, momentarily interrupting his conversation with Frank, and bustled off.
In her wake, Nancy inhaled, paused, and exhaled, deliberately releasing some of her tension. The sheer quantity of information she was balancing at present was beginning to tax even her professional capabilities.
First things first, she thought. Where has Joe ended up? A quick survey of the festive landscape revealed the younger Hardy on the fringe of the crowd, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, chatting with some of the staff members he had befriended previously. By the way he was gesturing, he must have been talking about his motorcycle restoration project.
He's telling them about rewiring the headlight, Nancy thought, feeling a warm wave of affection for this man wash over her. His familiar, beautiful face, his stance, his animated conversation and sudden laughter, the latent power and sharpness in that seemingly relaxed body and mind- every bit of him was known to her, and every bit was a revelation. She bit her lip to hide a smile, lowered her eyes so no one would see the love shining in them.
"What about you, Nadia? Do you have any questions?" Frank turned slightly toward her as he asked the question, opening space for her in the men's conversation.
"Yes, actually, I do," Nancy said, grateful for Frank's insight and tact. She looked up at Vince. "I was wondering if there is a date scheduled to begin renovations on our cabin."
Vince looked pained, though he tried to hide it. His eyebrows lowered slightly, and he shifted his armload of picnic supplies from one side to the other. "As I said before, I apologize for putting you in that unit," he began.
"I have no complaints," Nancy said swiftly, seeing that he was taking her question personally. She flashed him her most disarming smile. "The cabin is charming. And compared to some of the places we've stayed, it's a luxury suite."
"Memphis," Frank said under his breath, and Nancy shuddered.
"Don't remind me," she said.
Vince still looked tense. "A crew is slated to begin work on that building in a few weeks. I don't know the exact date offhand."
"But it's a matter of public record that it's happening," Nancy guessed. "Building permits will have been filed, and so on."
"Of course," Vince answered. "We do everything by the book." He turned back to Frank as he went on describing the specific permits he had applied for and which had garnered pushback from the town board.
Interesting, Nancy thought, listening. He's obviously more comfortable dealing with men as peers. I'm sorry, Vincent, but you're going to have to acknowledge me.
She waited until there was an opening in the flow of speech, and then smoothly inserted herself into it. "Excuse me," she said, in an exquisitely polite tone which a very young Nancy had learned would get her into the good graces of elderly socialites at the sort of parties Carson Drew attended. "Out of curiosity, do you know how far back the archived plans go?"
She was curious specifically about how the present layout of her cabin differed from how it may have looked in the past. Had it ever been remodeled? Were all the cabins identical? But she preferred not to divulge her entire train of thought to Vince at present.
If he were curious, Vince did not show it. He shifted his basket of utensils so he could tap rapidly at his phone screen; Nancy recognized the familiar layout of an email app when he tilted it slightly her way.
"I'm afraid I don't know offhand, but I can make some calls in the morning," he said, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "Sorry about that. Um, Greg's a buddy of mine– Greg Larrimer, he's the building inspector. I can talk to him, maybe have him get in touch with you about that information?"
"I would appreciate that," Nancy said.
Vince nodded briskly, looked to Frank again. "We'll touch base in the morning, then."
"Sounds good. We won't keep you," Frank said.
Vince nodded again and departed at his typical speed.
"You have a hunch," Frank said to Nancy when they were alone.
"I'm beginning to, anyway," she said. "Just the faintest glimmerings."
"A glimmer is good as a hunch in my book," Frank told her. "I've known you long enough to know the light comes on quickly once it's started."
Nancy smiled. "I appreciate your faith in me," she said, bumping him companionably with her shoulder. "How about you? Any thoughts?"
"Yes, but– damn," Frank said, the last word barely audible and in stark contrast with the bland friendliness written on his face. "Hi, Daria."
"That guy was talking to you for, like, an hour!" Daria said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "He always looks pissed off. What was he saying?"
"He's just busy," Frank said. "He has a lot on his plate, running this place."
"Whatever. He looks scary." Daria tucked the same strand of hair again and held out her camera toward Frank. "You guys have to see this."
"Don't tell me you're still hunting for ghosts," Frank said.
"Is there anything else to do around here? Except, like, swim, and hang out with my brother? Look at this."
"Oh my god," Nancy said obligingly, peering into the screen. She was not sure what Daria thought she had seen; from her angle, anyway, all she saw was darkness.
"It's even clearer in this one." Daria scrolled, zoomed in. "See? It's like a creepy face right between those trees."
"No way," Nancy said. "Were you terrified? Could you see it in person, or, like, only in the camera?"
"Where did you take these?" Frank added, in a more level tone.
"In the woods, out behind the cabins." Daria zoomed in more on the photo, overshooting and having to dial it back again in her excitement. "I didn't see anything until I looked at the pictures later. I was just shooting as many as I could, just in case, you know?"
"Did you hear anything?" Nancy asked.
"No. How creepy is that? Here, look at this one."
The next photo showed an undeniable beam of light in the darkness.
"Someone with a flashlight," Frank murmured. He made eye contact with Nancy over Daria's bent head, communicating without words: someone had been out there. A vandal? Someone hiding evidence? Nancy's skin prickled with sudden goosebumps.
Daria lifted her head, frowning. "I didn't hear any footsteps," she insisted.
Your own footsteps were probably loud enough to mask any other noises, Nancy thought.
"You really shouldn't be out there alone in the dark," Frank said, and Nancy was glad, because she felt a prickly terror at the idea of this vulnerable girl wandering in the woods at night.
"Will you come with me next time?" Daria said, playing with her hair.
"I don't think I should be alone out there in the dark!" Frank said, making his tone light.
"We wouldn't be alone. Nadia, make him come," Daria said, pouting.
"Finn never listens to me," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. "But, like, he's probably right. What if you ran into somebody out there?"
"The only reason somebody would be out there would be to make out. Or smoke weed," Daria said. "Just think about it, okay?"
"We're not going to be here much longer," Frank said firmly. "And I don't know about you, but I don't want to get hurt wandering the woods at night and spend the rest of my vacation on crutches."
"No, but–"
"Dar! Hey, Daria!" Her brother's voice cut through her attempted protest, loud and impatient. "Come on. Abuela says it's time to eat." He was leaving almost before he had finished speaking, giving the girl nothing with which to argue but his skinny shoulders and the back of his head.
"Go on," Nancy said quickly, before Daria could continue her attempt to persuade Frank. "We'll hang out later, okay?"
Daria was still looking at Frank. "Don't run away," she said.
"I'll try not to," he said.
"Promise!" she insisted, backing away. "I have more pictures."
"Wouldn't miss it!" Frank called back, keeping his tone light. He waited until she turned away before letting his expression relax.
"She's going to get herself into trouble," he said quietly, for Nancy's ears only. He looked exasperated; it was there in the tightness of his lips and the angle of his chin.
"I think she's counting on you to be her guardian angel," Nancy murmured, trying not to laugh. It was funny, in a way– not the situation itself, but the flare of despairing annoyance in Frank's eyes.
"I left my halo at home," Frank retorted. He drew in a quick, deep breath and changed the subject. "Did Jesse leave already?"
"No," Nancy said, looking around. "He's over there."
"I see him. So does our other shadow," Frank added, motioning subtly with his chin to where Vanessa was weaving through the crowd toward Joe's position.
Nancy swore softly, making Frank chuckle.
"Sorry," he said lightly.
Swallowing down a wave of real annoyance, Nancy returned his smile. "I'm starting to feel left out," she joked. "Both of you are getting hit on, and nobody is hitting on me."
"Trust me, you're the winner in this little contest. But what about the nettle guy? I bet he'll be happy once he notices you're here."
"Oh, god," Nancy groaned, laughing, having forgotten about Wellesley Withers for a blissful time. "Is he here?"
"By the fire, I think. He's part of the happy singalong circle," Frank said.
"You're right. That's him." Nancy's gaze slid back toward Joe. Vanessa had just reached her target. She watched the tall blonde lean in close, putting a hand on Joe's arm, laughing and talking animatedly.
"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Nance," Frank said softly. "Look at his body language. He's not receptive."
Nancy looked up at Frank, grateful for the reassurance and the elder-brotherly scolding.
"She's pregnant," she said, for his ears only. "Andrea told me."
Her companion was, predictably, silent at first. His eyes zeroed in on hers, evaluating, understanding.
"That puts a new spin on...well, everything," he observed.
"Yes," Nancy said, and wanted to say more, and could not.
Frank cleared his throat. "Want to head over? He's requesting backup."
"He is?" Nancy silently berated herself for not having committed to memory the entire catalog of the Hardy brothers' silent signals. She looked at Joe, looked again, looked helplessly to Frank, who grinned.
"It's an old one," he said. "He tapped his right foot against his left heel."
"I should have seen that," Nancy said.
"You will, next time. Coming?"
"In a minute, maybe. I can't with her."
Frank nodded. "No problem. I'll check in with him. You get some food and mingle."
"Yes, sir," she said, with a smile that began artificial but became real. "I'm glad you're here," she added softly.
Frank was already on the move. "Yeah, yeah, save the sentiment for the singalong," he grumbled, teasing her.
Nancy had just helped herself to one of Andrea's brownies- they had looked deliciously tempting- when she felt a presence and turned to find Wellesley Withers at her elbow, ukulele tucked under his arm and a full plate in his hands.
"Refined sugars," he observed. "My dear, if you have a sweet tooth, I urge you to try the fruit salad. I've been assured that the blueberries are locally sourced."
Though inwardly bristling, Nancy kept her tone light. "I love blueberries! Do they grow wild around here?"
The man beamed behind his glasses. "You remembered my foraging!" he said. "I did offer my expertise toward procuring some of tonight's repast. But alas, I was turned down."
"You should just relax and enjoy your vacation," Nancy said, taking a big bite of her brownie.
The man was not deterred. "Did you know, for example, that the common cattail is edible? And there is an abundance growing at the south end of the lake. It would be child's play to harvest them." He noticed Nancy opening her mouth to speak, she was sure, because he raised his volume slightly and added, rapidly, "And roses, my dear. The gardens are full of roses. Have you ever tasted rose jelly? Rose tea? Fried rose petals? The rose is a particularly good source of vitamin C."
In character, Nancy giggled. "Next time a boy brings me a bouquet of roses, I'll be sure to take a few bites," she said.
"You laugh, my dear, but you mark Uncle Wellesley's words: a body nourished by nature is a body made beautiful, strong, and healthy."
Creepy, Nancy thought. "My cousin washes her hair with rosemary," she offered, licking chocolate icing from her fingertip to see whether the man's eyes lingered on the action. They did.
She half-listened to the resulting lecture on helpful herbs for cleanliness and beauty, and was relieved when, a few minutes later, she spotted Melanie among the crowd.
"Oh, look, they've brought a pony!" she said with girlish excitement.
"I've lived long enough to know that no man can compete with a pony," Wellesley said ruefully. "Fare thee well, my dear. Doubtless our paths will cross again."
Not if I can help it, Nancy thought, but she smiled brightly at him as she departed.
A gaggle of children surrounded Melanie and the pony. Nancy approached Chris Reynard, who stood in stoic readiness beside a wheelbarrow nearby, pitchfork handle in one hand and a child-sized riding helmet in the other.
"I know the pony rides are for the kids, but I couldn't resist coming over to say hi," she said coquettishly. "What's the pony's name? She's darling!"
"That's Angel," Chris said. He was already turning away from her, turning toward another man who was approaching with an empty bucket.
"Where do you want this?"
"I said leave it by the truck," Chris said impatiently.
"And Melanie said to get it out," the other man retorted. Nancy recognized him as Chris's brother, Rob, whom she had met the day Joe had been hanging out with some staff members. He had been the one with wild theories about drones and maps.
"Melanie did say that," Melanie herself said cheerfully, taking the bucket from Rob. She waved at Nancy. "Hi, hon. I'm sorry, but we only brought the kiddie helmet down with us."
Nancy laughed. "I wouldn't dream of stealing a turn when there are so many kids in line," she said.
"You're a good sport. Have you met Rob?"
"Yes, we met the other day, I think? My cousin was hanging out with you," Nancy said. "Oh my god, I'm sure you, like, get this all the time, but you and your brother look so much alike."
Melanie, who was tightening Angel's girth, snorted. "We used to call them the triple threat," she said, tugging at the buckle.
"Triple?" Nancy echoed. "Like, actual triplets?"
"No, not actual triplets," Chris said. Was she imagining it, or was there an undercurrent of impatience in his voice? She looked carefully at the man, but he refused to look her way.
He is trying to do his job, Nancy told herself.
"Three is the holy number," Rob said, looking at Chris with a hint of defiance.
"Don't start," Chris said, smoothing Angel's forelock where her halter had tousled it. "Go grab me a comb, would you?"
Rob went obediently toward the truck.
Nancy's phone buzzed in her pocket and she reached for it gratefully, turning away, realizing that her continued presence was beginning to look awkward. She really had no excuse to stand there longer unless she played up the horse-crazy girl angle, and even that would not be productive once the pony rides got underway. Two little girls were already approaching, hesitant but eager.
Move along, Nadia, Nancy told herself.
The Hardy brothers had found an empty picnic table near the fire and looked as relaxed and carefree as the crowd of vacationers surrounding them. Joe was perched on the tabletop, feet on the bench and elbows on his knees. Frank stood beside him with one foot up on the bench and a cup in hand, chatting away. Only Nancy, with her trained eye and years of familiarity, could read the signs of readiness for action in ostensibly casual lines of their bodies.
"Where's Vanessa?" she asked, when she had bumped Joe and made him scoot over for her to join him on the end of the table. Instantly, she wished she hadn't led with that question. It made her sound jealous.
"She went to get a guitar," Joe said, looking slightly pained.
"She's making him do all his tricks," Frank said. "Sit, stay, sing. Good doggie."
"Just don't roll over," Nancy told him.
"God. No. Not a chance." Joe's eyes met hers for a fraction of a second.
"I know," she said quietly.
Frank cleared his throat. "Here she comes," he said. "I think that's my cue to take off."
"So soon?" Joe asked.
"I've heard you sing," Frank said, grinning. "See you around, guys."
See you in three hours, Nancy thought, but did not say. She watched him weave his way through the crowd toward the trail to the cabins, neatly evading both Vanessa and Daria in a way she had to admire.
Joe bumped Nancy's shoulder with his own. "Did you bring me a brownie?"
"Sorry, no. But they are as delicious as they look."
"I'm adding a plate of those to our invoice when this is all over," Joe said under his breath.
"Going back to a barter-based economy?"
"Brownies only. No livestock."
"We do have a spare bedroom," Nancy teased. "We could keep a milk cow in there."
He laughed. "The neighbors would love that," he said, reaching for the guitar that Vanessa was holding out to him.
The blonde glanced between him and Nancy, evidently trying to pick up on the joke. "Haven't you grown out of being a nuisance to the neighborhood yet?" she asked.
"I guess that depends on how you define 'nuisance,'" he said vaguely, playing a few experimental chords.
Vanessa made a face. "This was the best I could do on short notice. It's seen better days. I hope it does you justice."
"I've made do with worse," Joe said easily, adjusting a tuning peg.
With Joe preoccupied, Vanessa glanced sideways at Nancy. "Hi, Nadia," she said, with forced brightness. "Don't you look cute! That top totally works on you. I could never pull off that look."
"Thanks!" Nancy said, matching her tone. "I hope you're feeling better. Andrea mentioned you were having a bad afternoon."
She held eye contact with the other woman just long enough to see her tiny barb hit home. She knows I know. The thought gave her a moment of vicious satisfaction.
"Much better, thank you," Vanessa said smoothly. "I was just tired."
There was a pause. Joe, head bent close to the instrument, plucked another string.
"Are you staying?" Vanessa asked Nancy.
"Yes, for a little while," Nancy said, scanning the faces in the crowd which ebbed and flowed around the fire and the buffet.
Vanessa turned back to Joe, not quite cutting Nancy out completely, but definitely dismissing her with her body language. "Still so meticulous," she said, trying to disguise impatience for admiration.
"She's seen better days," Joe said absently, adjusting another string. "But I think she'll do. Any requests, Nadia?"
"'Free Bird,'" Nancy said, joking, and Joe grinned and raised a hand in the "rock on" gesture. Vanessa gave a forced laugh.
"I'm not sure this is the crowd for an extended guitar solo."
"First of all, there is no wrong time for an extended guitar solo," Joe said. "But I'll work up to it. Start out nice and easy and have them headbanging by the end of the night."
"I'll see if I can find you an electric guitar and a drummer," Nancy promised.
He started out with an old standard that people would be able to sing along to, and Nancy took the opportunity to observe. People milled past, people gathered closer, some people were singing already. In the firelight everyone's eyes were full of stars. Vanessa, staring into the fire, looked suddenly very human to Nancy, very vulnerable. Something in her face seemed almost wistful.
"You must feel proud of this place," Nancy said, offering an olive branch.
Beside her, the blonde was quiet for a moment. Then her gaze slid over to meet Nancy's, and her expression was flat. There was no attempt to meet Nancy in the middle, to offer any kind of friendship.
"It's really Mom and Vince's project," she said. "I'm not here for the long haul. Can you imagine being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere forever? I'm sorry, I know you're a small-town girl, but…" She shrugged, her lips quirking into a perfectly sultry moue of displeasure.
"You've always been ambitious," Nancy said, keeping her tone neutral.
"A girl has to have goals," Vanessa said.
There was nothing more to say, so Nancy said nothing.