Lake Silence

CHAPTER 42

Vicki

Firesday, Juin 30

The guest suites in the main house were ready, and the renovated cabins were clean. I dithered about putting a vase of fresh flowers in each room along with a welcome basket, but I didn’t have three vases. Well, I did, but they were old, chipped ones I’d found haphazardly packed away in the attic—all right for my use but not something you put out for guests.

The Milfords sold what they called weekend jars of jams and jellies—small containers that would be sufficient for one or two people for a couple of days without wasting the contents of larger jars since most people didn’t want to eat from an opened container when they didn’t know who had had their utensils—or fingers—in it. At breakfast, Ineke put out jams and jellies in small bowls to avoid waste, and I would need to figure out which way was the most practical for guests coming to The Jumble. The weekend jars could be something guests took with them, whether or not they had opened the jars during their stay. If I did that, it might provide more business for the Milfords, and that would be a good thing.

“Why do we need more humans here?” Aggie asked.

She had watched me go through my list of preparations since early that morning and had become more and more unhappy the closer we got to the arrival of the three couples who would be spending a long weekend with us.

“We need paying guests,” I replied.

“I pay.”

I stopped dithering and looked at her. She reminded me of a resentful teenager, but maybe she wasn’t resentful of intruders, however temporary, as much as she wanted reassurance that she was equally valued?

“Yes, you do, and you’re a great lodger.” If we overlook the whole squooshy eyeball thing. “But I need more paying guests. In order to stay here and be the Reader and help all of you restore The Jumble as a terra indigene settlement, I need to make a living, need to make enough money to pay the bills. I can’t do that with only one lodger. Do you understand?”

“Are you going to make the other terra indigene move out of the cabins?” she asked after a moment.

“Conan and Cougar? No, Aggie. They’re helping me with the heavy work in exchange for using those cabins.”

“I meant the terra indigene who are using the meadow cabins near the kitchen garden.”

When Paige mentioned my having helpers to tend the kitchen garden, I thought she’d meant Conan and Cougar. “There are more terra indigene living in the cabins?”

Aggie nodded. “There’s a Bobcat and a pair of Coyotes for sure. I think the Owlgard took the third cabin there.” She moved this way and that, twitchy movements. “Maybe they should have told you?”

“Yes, they should have told me.” When she seemed to shrink into herself, I added, “If I’d known, I would have gone over and introduced myself and made sure those cabins were habitable.” Enough work had been done to stop further weather damage, but I hadn’t expected anyone to stay there so the furniture I’d left in those cabins had been rickety at best. Then again, maybe the Others often took over abandoned human buildings and thought wobbly chairs and tables with peeling paint or stains in the wood were normal.

That made me sad, so I pushed the thought aside until I could talk to Ilya Sanguinati. He would know if the Others in those cabins were happy with the arrangement or felt slighted in some way. And really, if anyone had felt slighted, I wouldn’t have been hearing about this from Aggie days after my new residents had moved in. I’m sure the Bobcat or the Coyotes—or even the Owls—would have expressed an opinion in a way that was unmistakable.

Which suddenly made me wonder if they had been among the terra indigene who had shown up for the story hours and had moved into the cabins to be nearby. The sites for the four guest buildings had been chosen to provide a sense of privacy—or as much privacy as you could have when each building was made up of three connected cabins—but none of the buildings were more than a quarter mile from the main house, and the renovated cabins were within sight of both the lake and the main house—or would be if the bushes and trees between the house and cabins didn’t provide a natural privacy screen.

“The humans are here,” Aggie said.

“I didn’t hear the cars.” I touched my hair, hoping all the effort I’d put in that morning to look professional hadn’t gone to waste. I could easily end up looking like Electric Shock Lady when I greeted my guests.

“Eddie just told me that Cougar moved the chain across the road to let them through. Eddie says the humans have fancy cars, but not as nice as the ones the Sanguinati drive.”

“Of course their cars aren’t as nice.”

She grinned and followed me to the front door to wait for these visitors, now more curious than tense about what kind of human would come to The Jumble.

I was curious about that too. But I can’t say I wasn’t tense.