“You could be right. But she could turn over the bookstore to someone else. Or she and Mr. Royal could decide to shut the place down altogether,” I said as we stopped at one of the self-service kiosks and got our boarding passes before heading up the escalator to security.
The line snaked around, and as people moved forward, they were already removing their computers from their bags, kicking off shoes, and sliding off belts.
“Rats,” Dinah said, looking at the line.
“I know what you mean. It’s such a hassle going through security.”
“No,” Dinah said. “Well, yes, it is a hassle, but that isn’t what my comment was about. I saw all the laptops and realized I didn’t bring mine. You didn’t bring yours, by chance?”
Dinah reconsidered her comment almost before the last of it left her mouth as she remembered I got along with only a desktop model.
“It’ll be okay. I’m sure you can live for a weekend without checking your e-mail or going on the Internet.” We had reached the conveyer belt and were loading our shoes, purses, tote bags, scarves and sweaters into plastic trays.
Once we were through the checkpoint and had ourselves back together, Dinah followed me toward the escalators that led to a waiting area level with the tarmac.
Adele and Sheila had left early in the morning because they were driving up. I still had the rhinestone clipboard, but they had taken the box of folders for the workshop leaders along with the packets for the retreaters. One of the workshop leaders had left a box of supplies for them to bring up, too. I had already heard from Adele that they had arrived.
Dinah noticed the furrow in my brow. “You’re still worried about the weekend, aren’t you? I’m telling you, you’ll do fine.”
“I just keep thinking if this weekend goes badly, it might be the thing that pushes Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal to close down.” Dinah knew how much the job meant to me. I loved going to work and putting on the events.
After my husband, Charlie, passed away, working at the bookstore had been a whole new beginning for me. I finally had an identity. For so long I had been known only in relation to someone else. I was Samuel and Peter’s mother. I was Charlie’s wife. Or the She La La’s Liza Aronson’s daughter. At the bookstore I was just Molly.
Dinah tried to calm my concern. “It’s going to be great. I’m looking forward to working with my memoir writers. We’ll be out of the heat for a few days, and no matter what Adele says, I bet even with your responsibilities, you’ll have some time to crochet and enjoy yourself. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
Dinah’s last statement made me uneasy. It sounded like she was tempting fate. We took the escalator down and walked into the waiting area.
“But they assured me there would be no problem.” A woman’s shrill voice rose above the din of conversation, and I looked toward the commotion. She was talking to the airline employee who was checking in passengers.
“I don’t know who you talked to, but here’s our policy. We can’t guarantee anything,” the uniformed employee said in a restrained tone.
“Do you know who he is?” the woman demanded in a loud voice, pointing at a man standing off to the side.
He had nondescript looks with close-cropped, frizzy light hair and a benign expression. I looked at him-and then looked again. An “Oh no” escaped my lips, and Dinah gave me a funny look. The man was Bennett Franklyn. I absolutely recognized him from the rerun of the Raf Gibraltar show I’d watched on a cable channel the night before.
CeeCee’s description of him floated through my mind. “People always think they know him from somewhere, but they can never place where. Usually they think they went to school with him.”
Apparently the airline employee didn’t recognize him, though, and this set the woman off even more. By now I had figured the plain woman in the denim pantsuit must be the wife/manager, Nora, CeeCee had mentioned. Dinah noticed me staring.
“Obnoxious isn’t she?” Dinah said, jutting her chin toward the confrontation. “But not our problem.”
I smiled weakly. “Maybe it is. I’m pretty sure that’s our substitute acting instructor, Bennett Franklyn, and his wife, Nora. Since they’re on the way to the workshop, they’re kind of my responsibility. Maybe I should step in.”
Dinah grabbed my arm to keep me from moving. “Your watch starts when the retreat does.”
Finally the airline employee handed Nora Franklyn two boarding passes and said it was the best she could do, and let them board the plane first.
“See, they worked out their own problem,” Dinah said as we boarded the small plane. Bennett and Nora were seated in the first row, and I noticed her talking to the people in the seats behind them. No matter what Dinah said, I had the feeling the peace with the Franklyns was only temporary.
A little over an hour later, the tiny plane landed at the equally tiny Monterey airport. Nora and Bennett had deplaned quickly, and I saw them entering the terminal building as we came down the stairway from the plane. I was right about the peace only being temporary. As soon as Dinah and I walked into the miniature terminal, I heard myself being paged over the loudspeaker. Well, I figured it was me, even though the page was for Polly Mink.
If the Franklyns noticed we’d been on the plane with them, they didn’t show it as I approached and introduced myself with the correct name.
“You can tell the driver to pick up our bags. We’ll just go directly to the car,” Nora said, glancing around. I had to explain there wasn’t a driver, and said I’d help them get a cab. Nora appeared exasperated at my suggestion. “I don’t suppose you arranged for a rental car, either?” As soon as she saw the negative shake of my head, she let out a hopeless groan and gestured for Bennett to follow her as they headed toward the rental car counter.
“That went well,” Dinah said with a roll of her eyes.
“Too bad CeeCee had to cancel. She would have gone along with us in a cab,” I said, my shoulders sagging. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Dinah tried to reassure me. “Once they get to the conference center, they’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
We got our bags and headed through the door to the short line of cabs that stood waiting. A fellow passenger followed us outside. “Did I hear someone call you Polly Pink?” the silver-haired man asked me. I nodded with an uncertain smile. Now what, I wondered as he held out his hand.
“Commander Blaine,” he said in an upbeat voice, introducing himself as he shook my hand. He’d caught me off guard, and I struggled to place the name.
“Pamela Shedd called me and told me you’d be taking over for her,” he said to me, but his gaze kept darting toward Dinah and I wondered if he even heard me give my correct name. “And you are?” he said to her. He couldn’t have been more obvious with his interest. If I was a person who believed in love at first sight, that would have been it.
Dinah was divorced and had been trying to meet someone forever. So far she’d met nothing but duds. I wasn’t sure if Commander was his first name, a nickname, or his title, but he appeared a lot more promising than any of the guys she’d described to me. I expected her to pick up on the way his gaze stayed on her and at least smile. Instead, she looked away in a dismissive manner.
Dinah was somewhere in her fifties, though the exact place was a deeply held secret even I, her best friend, didn’t know. After all the wild-goose chases and murder investigations we’d been through, you’d think she would have trusted that I wouldn’t judge her by her age, but she still wouldn’t tell. Dinah is a bundle of energy, and even though I’d just met Commander Blaine, he seemed to have a similar enthusiastic attitude. So why did she seem to be ignoring him?