Everything seemed to sparkle and look more cheerful with the addition of the sun. A trickle of people were walking on the boardwalk toward the beach. I joined them, thinking about Izabelle. A day ago at almost the same time she had been going this same way. I pictured her with her pouch purse dangling at her side. What was her mood when she headed toward the beach? Most important, who was she meeting? I walked out through the gate and crossed the street. The entrance to the beach was shaped by the fenced-off planted areas on either side. It was in one of those that we’d found the pouch purse. As I walked down the sandy entrance, I tried to figure out how Izabelle could have accidentally dropped her bag on the other side of the fence, as Sergeant French thought. Could she have been so impatient that she decided to cut through the plants? Maybe she was carrying shopping bags with the s’more ingredients and some wood for the fire, and with her arms full took the shortcut and the bag fell off her arm and she didn’t even notice. Still, the biggest question was how she came to eat the peanut butter-laced s’more.
It was giving me a headache to think about it, and I put all thoughts on hold as I walked across the sand toward where Mason was setting up.
This was the first time I was really seeing the beach. Before, it had been either foggy or night. Now I could see the huge waves rolling to the shore and admire their color. The water was actually sea foam green. As I stepped through the sand, I was taken with how white and silky it was. Adele had said the sand on this beach was unusual because it was formed by the waves wearing away granodiorite rocks along the shoreline. As I looked out over the open water, I pictured a map and saw myself standing on the edge of the peninsula between Carmel Bay and Monterey Bay. As Commander had said, it was the edge of the continent. Just a little way down, the Point Pinos lighthouse, with its beacon and foghorn, had been protecting sailors from crashing onto this outcropping of land since the 1850s. The breeze was fresh and constant-invigorating without being cold.
I had briefly wondered about taking part in the tai chi. Would it compromise my authority if people saw me stumbling in the sand? I’d never done tai chi, and the pull of the chance to try it won. Besides, I wanted to support Mason.
Mason had chosen a spot where the sand was firm and damp. Beyond, a little rivulet came from somewhere inland and made a channel to the water. Adele arrived and positioned herself right in the front. She made sure to tell the people around her that she was an experienced tai chier and showed off her outfit of bright orange loose pants and a matching kimono-style jacket open over a white tee shirt. As she turned, I caught a glimpse of her pouch purse. Something about it struck me, but before it could compute, Commander arrived and asked where Dinah was. My shrug of ignorance didn’t please him, and he took a spot off to the side. Miss Lavender Pants had dragged her crew with her and they took positions next to Adele. Sheila came over by me.
“It’s good you’re trying this. I hear it’s very relaxing,” Sheila said. “Molly, I know about tension, and you’ve got it in spades.” Bennett arrived and bumped fists with Mason in greeting. He still had on the backward baseball cap, though he’d changed into soft gray sweatpants. And he wasn’t alone. I was surprised to see Nora walking next to him. There was some discussion between Bennett and Nora as they took spots next to Adele. I was just about to go up and tell Nora how glad I was that she was joining us, when she marched over to Mason. The next thing I knew, Mason told the group to move down to the beach to drier sand. How foolish of me to think she could take part in anything without ruffling some feathers.
More retreaters trudged across the sand and joined the group. When it appeared all who were going to come had gotten there, Mason began. He explained there were different schools of thought on how to teach tai chi, but he liked the way he’d learned the best. He had simply watched his teacher and mimicked his moves. Eventually he’d picked them up.
“Tai chi is supposed to be meditative, and I think that it’s best to keep it that way.” Mason liked using music, too, and had brought a boom box with him. He turned it on, and what I could describe only as Eastern ethereal music poured forth.
And then he began. At first I was concerned that my arms weren’t flowing up and down the way Mason’s were, but then the music and the rhythm of the waves kicked in and I went with the flow. I lost track of the others on the beach as Mason’s moves and mine became one, or so I hoped. Actually, I knew I was a step behind and not nearly as fluid, but when he finished, the tai chi had done its trick. I felt renewed.
There was a little spattering of applause, barely audible above the waves, and Mason took a humble bow. As I looked over the group to check their reactions, something about Adele made me stop. The wind fluttered her orange jacket open, and I saw the pouch purse and realized she’d worn it all during the tai chi session. She didn’t have it on her shoulder, but instead wore it with the strap across her chest. That seemed the way it was meant to be positioned. Wearing it like that, you could do just about anything and have it stay put, including walking onto the beach even if you cut through the plants. I was suddenly sure there was no way the pouch purse fell off of Izabelle by accident.
“How’d I do?” Mason asked as he caught up with me on the way back.
“It was magnificent,” I said with a satisfied sigh.
“I’m glad you liked it. Some people get frustrated because they don’t get it right away, but a lot of the benefit is just doing it, whether it’s perfect or not.”
“See you later,” Mason said with a wink when we got back on the Asilomar grounds. Most of the group was heading toward the dining hall, and Mason was going back toward Lodge to change and get ready for our meeting. There was no way I was going to call it a date.
I didn’t catch up with Dinah until I saw her in the dining hall. It was still a little surprising to see how crowded it was now that Asilomar was back in business. Our group had gravitated toward the same area of the dining hall, though now we took up more tables. I heard snippets of conversations as our campers found seats. Everyone sounded charged up about their workshop. I had wondered if it seemed cold to go on with the weekend as if nothing had happened, but Izabelle had died before most of them got there. And only the crocheters were really impacted.
“So what did you find out?” I said, grabbing Dinah as she came from the food line with a plate of what looked like pot roast with carrots and oven-roasted potatoes. She set her plate down and we went into a corner out of earshot.
“He’s very charming,” Dinah said with a laugh. “I barely had to bat my eyelashes at all before he got into the conversation. I kept trying to get him to talk about himself, but he kept saying he wanted to know about me and the group.”
“What did he want to know?” I asked.
“I guess he must have overheard Adele fussing. He wanted to know if it was true someone had stolen her work. He asked about our group’s program and what kind of workshops we were having. Oh, and that woman he said was his niece? I guess he forgot who he said she was, because this time he said she was his cousin. My guess is she’s his girlfriend, but he’s trying to keep his options open.”
“Really? What about the manuscript? Did you find anything out? Or bring up Izabelle?”
“No, but I’m not giving up. We’re meeting later for a walk on the beach.” When she saw my concerned look, she stopped me. “I’m doing it for you. Just to get information.” She glanced down at her black jeans and tee shirt. She had a long, cream colored scarf wound around her neck and the amethyst earrings. “Do you think I should change?”