Chapter 9 - Marie #4
He swallowed. “Oh . . . I can imagine. I’m sorry.
Nan and I just found out ourselves . . .
Apparently, we need to revamp our interview process .
. . add some questions. For now, we’re stuck with her.
She was barely able to control herself when we informed her and Billy who your visitor was and that it’s part of their duty to protect his privacy, but now she’s done a one-eighty. ”
“I know. Billy told us not to go to the lodge one afternoon, because he was afraid she’d lose it if Robby walked in.”
“Well, now he’s ‘part of the country’s problem, maybe dangerous’.”
“Do you know where she’s getting this?”
“We suspect it’s people she’s met up here.
Billy’s trying to find out. Anyway, it’s disturbing and disappointing, not to mention you can’t run a tourist-dependent business with that mindset.
” Jim put his napkin on the table and looked at his watch.
“I’m going to say my good-bye’s, text Kirsten, and get over to Olsson’s, so I can get back to Getaway.
Enjoy your stay, and we’ll see you guys sometime tomorrow morning.
” He pursed his lips. “Just leaves a bad taste in your mouth, doesn’t it?
So much hate these days. You’d think with all the country’s problems, the focus would be on uniting all our talents to come up with solutions.
” She watched him go over and talk with Charlie, then leave.
*********
It was just after 1:00. The lunch rush was still on.
She looked around for something to do without going out front.
She could pull out her laptop, but that didn’t seem right even if she worked, when Charlie was barely keeping up.
She went over to him. “What can I do?” He looked up from the deep fat fryer, about to lift the basket of fries.
“Put on an apron. I don’t think we have a hairnet that will cover your hair.
Maybe you could put it in a ponytail. Then start slicing tomatoes. ”
“I have a big clip. I can put it up on top and maybe get a hairnet over it then, if it’s a big one.”
“Try that. They’re in that drawer.” Charlie pointed across the kitchen. “Be real careful and slow. That knife’ll cut you.”
She had no knife skills, so taking it slow was no problem, and after a while, Charlie’s calm voice said, “That’s enough.
Just what I need. Now change aprons.” He nodded toward a dark, shiny one hanging from a hook.
“Put on the gloves by the sink and start loading the machine.” He picked up two burger plates and carried them over to the pass-through, saying as he walked, “Scrape ‘em first. You’ll have to hand wash the big stuff if the machine gets full. Mind the water — it’s hot. Thank you, Grace.”
It seemed like the pile never got smaller, but the time did pass.
The kitchen sounds — water rushing out of the faucet, dishwasher churning, milkshake blender whirring, Charlie chopping at lightning speed, griddle sizzling, and the clatter of the white china plates and bowls — drowned out the chatter from the dining room, and Grace was in her own space, like when she was writing.
She startled when Margie said, “What’s this!
” and turned to see her, standing just inside the swinging door, looking from Grace to Charlie.
“This is one human helping another.” Charlie looked up from the BLT he was slicing on the diagonal.
“Well, it’s slowing down out there. I can handle it. I’ll send Jenn in to spot Grace once all the tables are cleared.” She turned around and went back out.
Grace kept scraping and stacking the dirties till she felt a light tap on her shoulder and looked over to see a masked woman with a hairnet in another waterproof apron and long gloves standing at her left elbow.
“I’ll take over,” Jenn said quietly, and Grace stepped aside.
She began peeling off her gloves, and Jenn said, “Just put them over there,” and tilted her head toward an empty hook with a plastic basin under it near the back door.
It was nearly 3:00. She looked over to the pass-through and could see only one table occupied, two couples lingering over cherry pie and coffee. Margie was at the register going through order pages and receipts. Grace went through the door and said, “Is it okay if I go upstairs?”
Margie looked up, still masked. “Yes. Room’s ready. Give us another thirty minutes. We’ll lock the door and sit down for pie and coffee. I’ll text the dishwasher for the supper shift.”
“I’ll gladly do it again. It’ll give me something to do.”
“No. Thomas will be glad for the money but thank you.” They heard the final customers pushing their chairs away from the table and heading for the counter.
Grace ducked back in the kitchen and made sure she had put everything in her tote bag.
She waited till she heard the front door close, then she went up the stairs.
As she neared the top and everything was quiet, she felt the familiarity of the place, and suddenly, acutely, missed Robby.
It was unnatural for him not to be here.
She thought, “Grace, don’t do this. Remember yourself.
It’s natural to have somebody in your life, just don’t let him be your life.
” She took a deep breath, set her backpack down on the bed, walked over to the window, and smiled, looking out at Lake Superior, its rocky shoreline stretching past both sides of the window.
During the course of the afternoon and evening, Grace, Margie, and Charlie squeezed in enough visits to get caught up on community news and storm stories, Grace’s BWCA job and Brad, and Grace’s cabin. After the supper shift was over, Margie and Grace sat down together at a window table.
“We don’t have to talk about Robby if it makes you uncomfortable, but people are wondering.”
“What people?” said Grace with genuine surprise. She put her Schell’s down on its coaster.
“His family.”
Grace’s eyes got big. “His family? Isn’t that a little premature?”
“You have to understand. It’s a big, close family, and although Robby has been on the road with one band or another since he was about twenty, he’s always come home regularly .
. . every three or four months, maybe six months at most a few times.
In all those years, he’s never left the reservation during a visit except to go to his house or here, Grand Marais, so they were shocked when he left last week and said he was going up the Trail.
He hadn’t been up there since he was a teenager, and Dan, his dad, used to take him up there to visit relatives.
And they were even more curious when they asked him why, and he said, “To see a girl I met.”
Grace sat back, then reached for the Schell’s and took a long sip. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, you can start — and finish, if you like — with how you guys are getting along. Must be fine if he’s going back .
. . right? That’s what made them start bugging me.
This is so different for Robby. I mean, there’ve been lots of girls .
. . women. We see them in the tabloids. But since he’s on the road, no one here has to deal with them, much less share Robby with them.
He never brings them here.” Margie picked up her beer and took a sip but never took her eyes off Grace.
“So, they already dislike me.”
“No, no. I didn’t say that. They’re not like that.
They’re mystified and trying to understand, not judging.
I’ve done my best to reassure them, and it’s worked to some extent.
They know me. They know I’m being straight with them.
” She took another sip of her beer. “And now he’s going back for a second visit,” she said with a big grin.
“I can’t imagine the conversation,” she looked at the wall clock, “that’s going on right about now, ‘cause he always has dinner at Mary and Dan’s the night before he leaves.
But I’ll find out.” She laughed again. “But seriously, are you happy? With this new trail you’re blazing? ”
“I’m happy, and it’s got little to do with Robby.
I never dreamed it could be this way — not talking about jobs either, just people.
My life is so much richer because there’re people in it.
In just weeks, I have had more meaningful, helpful conversations than in .
. .” She looked off briefly, then back at Margie. “Maybe since my dad died.”
“Why do you think that is? Don’t you have friends at home? You grew up there, right? And family?”
“It’s a long, boring story and not important now. Just having people now, who listen, and seem to care about whether I have a life or not . . . I’ve been able to get much clearer in my own head. I’m talking about you, Jim, and, yes, Robby.” Grace lifted the Schell’s to her lips.
“That’s good to hear. As for a boring story — maybe, maybe not, but another time I’d like to hear it. I can always stop you if I’m bored. What about Robby?”