Chapter 9 - Marie
“Jim, are you going to Grand Marais Thursday?” Grace had just finished the interview and come into the main room of the lodge from her work cubicle. Jim was there drinking coffee and recuperating from the weekend. Robby was at Fond du Lac by now.
“Yes. Lots of supplies to pick up with the lockdown coming up. You wanna tag along?” He looked at her from his favorite chair by the window overlooking the lake.
“I might. I need to make a phone call. May I let you know by tomorrow morning?”
“You can let me know right before you step into my truck. I’ve made calls and sent emails to get clarification on whether I can continue weekly supply trips once the lockdown starts. I don’t see how they can say, ‘No,’ when we can’t live without them, but I want it in writing.”
“I don’t blame you.” Grace wandered over to the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup. “May I use the phone to call Margie? Won’t take long.”
“Sure, if you’ll tell her I’m hoping for lunch Thursday, and pie.”
“Will do.” Grace went back by the cubicles to the phone. She took out the card Margie had given her and punched in the number for the cafe. Margie answered. Grace smiled at the sound of her voice. “Margie, this is Grace.”
“Hi, hon. Everything okay? You guys survive the storm okay?”
“Yes. Just a lot of cleanup. How ‘bout y’all?”
“Same. Where’s Robby?”
“He’s down at Fond du Lac.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I was hoping . . .”
“Oh, no. He was here. He’s checking on his parents.” Grace hesitated. “At least, I think he’ll come back . . .”
“Did he say he was?”
“Yes.”
“Then he will. Robby’s word is good. Now what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering . . . if I come down there with Jim on Thursday, do you have a room I could rent? Just the one night?”
“I sure do. You wanna tell me what this is about, or no? No pressure.”
“The lockdown starts Monday. I don’t know when I might get down there again. I wanted to see you and Charlie, if that’s okay . . .”
“It’s more than okay, hon. We’d love to see you, and the timing’s perfect ‘cause Friday afternoon we’re going to Fond du Lac too, to visit before the lockdown . . . Wait a minute! How will you get back up the Trail?”
“Robby said he’d be back by Friday.” Even as she said it, Grace realized this plan might not be solid. What if he came back Thursday, or Saturday? “I was thinking he’d surely stop in to see y’all, and I could surprise him . . . but now that I say it out loud . . . This plan might not work.”
“I have an idea. I’ll call Robby — tell him I called the lodge to check on everyone and want him to stop by next time he’s coming through and pick up a blueberry pie. I’ll ask him when that’s going to be, so the pie’ll be fresh. What d’ya think?”
“I think it’s genius! And if his answer isn’t Friday, you’ll let me know?”
“I’ll shoot you an email either way, by tomorrow. I have to confess, this is not the first romantic plot I’ve been involved in. When you’ve gotten to my age, there are more opportunities for this kind of thing than you might think.” She laughed.
Grace laughed too. “Okay, I’ll wait to hear from you. Oh! Jim said to tell you he’s hoping for lunch Thursday and pie.”
“Tell him he’s got it, and I’ve put cherry back in the rotation. He’ll like that.”
Grace could tell Margie was smiling. “Will do. Bye, Margie. See you soon.”
“Bye, hon.”
******************
Robby woke up in his own bed, alone, Wednesday morning, and didn’t like it.
He’d stopped by yesterday on his way down to Fond du Lac, seen a lot of storm debris — some he had to drag off the road just to get to the house — and made up his mind to come back after supper at his parents’, so he could clean up his place today .
. . and play electric guitar. There was only one big limb left to deal with in his parents’ yard.
His place was going to take hours, maybe all day.
He’d go back down to Fond du Lac Thursday, help his dad, and stay for supper.
He walked into the kitchen to make coffee and was surprised to find his favorite sister, Marie, masked and still in her nurse’s uniform from the night shift at the hospital in Grand Marais.
She was on the other side of the kitchen island, facing him, washing her hands at the sink.
He immediately felt better and moved to hug her, but she held up her hand.
“No closer. God knows what germs are on me. It’s at the hospital.
Covid. We need a vaccine, yesterday, but I’m not here to talk about that.
I heard you came back from the Trail and thought if I came here, we might have more one-on-one time than when you visit me — the boys are always all over you.
” Marie resembled Robby. She was slim and unusually tall, probably 6’, but where he was angular, she was curved.
Robby walked around her and flipped the switch on the coffeemaker. “You’re tired, aren’t you? Sleep now. Our visit can wait.” Robby thought he could see dark circles under Marie’s eyes and red mask marks on the side of her face where the mask had slipped.
“I know. I’ve come here more than once to get uninterrupted rest. Sometimes, I’m scared to go home—”
Robby’s face changed. “Has something happened between you and Russell? I can’t imagine, but if he ever . . .”
“No, nothing like that. You know I wouldn’t put up with that.”
“Good. Then, why can’t you go home?”
“I don’t want to bring Covid into the house.
To the kids or Russell. They’ve moved me from the OR to the ER, and we’re seeing cases, just a few, but it’s only a matter of time.
” She dried her hands with paper towels and sat at the table, bringing a big can of disinfectant spray.
“Fix your coffee. You look better than when you first got off the road, but you still look like hell.”
“Thank you. I could say the same about you, but I was raised better than that. Anyway, I’m glad you’re using the house. It’s yours whenever you need it. I’m hoping not to be here much, not that it matters — you’re welcome anyway.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about — this girl.”
Robby was putting sugar in a mug, about to pour, but looked over at Marie. “She has a name. It’s Grace . . . Okay . . . Let’s talk about her.” He poured coffee, stirred, and walked to the other end of the table.
“See? Already this is different. You never want to talk about your women.”
“Maybe Grace is different. I feel different.” He took a sip. “Besides, what better thing do I have to do? And she likes sex.”
Marie smiled and shook her head. “Some things never change with you Little Brother. Well . . . You know I go by the Lakeside whenever I can. Margie likes this girl . . . Grace. And I don’t have to tell you, Margie’s hard to please when it comes to partners for any of us.
Russell felt like he was going through the Inquisition.
But Margie seems more concerned about her than you. What’s going on? Tell me about her.”
“I want to. You more than anyone. But when I’ve rehearsed this in my head, it sounds bizarre, so I’m worried how it’s going to sound to you.”
“Try me. I’m gonna pour myself some coffee. I came to hear this, but I’m about to pitch forward onto the table.’’ She walked over and got more paper towels to handle the coffee pot.
“What do you want to know? Let’s try it that way, so you don’t fall asleep before finding out what you came for.”
“Well . . . let’s start with how you met her. I heard it was in the Minneapolis airport, and she asked you for a ride up here.” Marie walked back to the table, taking her mask off one ear.
“No, that’s not right.” Robby put his forearms on the table and leaned on them. “It was in the Minneapolis airport that we met, but in Duluth, I offered her a ride.”
“She must be a real looker.” She smiled at her brother over her coffee mug.
“Okay. See? I was afraid of this. I was struck by her looks from the start. That’s what first attracted me — that’s normal, right?
That’s what you see. But her looks aren’t what you’re thinking, and the thing that really hooked me has nothing to do with her looks.
It’s that she had no idea who I was, until I had to tell her .
. . the next day . . . after a girl mobbed me in Grand Marais right in front of her .
. . when I was looking for boots. By then I was intrigued, and when I told her, she wasn’t impressed — she’s barely heard of the band.
It’s so different, being with someone like that.
Frankly, we don’t always get along. She’s not looking to please me, like other women I meet.
In fact, I don’t think she gives a thought to that.
” Robby sat back, coffee in hand, remembering the conversation at the DQ when he first tried to wrap his head around the fact she was using him because he had a truck.
“She’s not impressed by me at all. She thinks I’m ‘full of myself’ .
. . that I only see girls — women — as sex objects.
She’s focused on getting her career going and worried I’m going to distract her. Did Margie tell you that?”
“Not exactly. She said the girl is driven and clear-headed, but she senses something fragile. I trust Margie. How much do you know about her? What’s her career? Please don’t tell me she’s a singer.”
“She’s not. She’s a journalist.” Marie got a horrified look on her face. “Not that kind of journalist. Don’t worry. We’ve had that conversation. She works for a newspaper back in South Carolina and now for that group up here, fighting the mining companies about leases in the Boundary Waters.”
“South Carolina?”
Robby laughed. “I told you it’s bizarre. And I absolutely feel like I’m pursuing her. Like I said, I’m pretty sure that’s part of the attraction for me — she’s not that interested. I don’t remember the last time I had to work to get a girl’s attention. High school maybe?”