Chapter 3
1717 Words
3
We marched back up the path and found the cabin area a little more livelier as the mandatory dinner hour approached. Many cabin doors were opened and people from all walks of society stepped out. There was the usual high-society in their minks of money and clothes of the crème de la crème. They stuck their noses up at the more plebeian classes such as ourselves as we walked to the front of our cabin in our shorts and short-sleeved shirts.
The socialites made up only a part of the parade that marched down the row of cabins to the lodge. I noticed there were couples and singles, but no children. Apparently the people in charge of reservations didn’t want kids turning into toddlers or completely vanishing from existence due to their Fountain of Youth guarantee.
“You’ve been through this before. How fancy are these dinners?” I asked my friend.
She led me inside our cabin and shrugged. “Not that fancy. It’s pretty much wear what you want as long as you’re wearing something.”
I glanced out the window and nodded at the parade of guests. “What about all that fancy dress-wear?”
Susie joined me at the window and followed my gaze. “They can wear what they want, but I said you’re going to relax while you’re here, and that means no donkey suits or dresses.”
“Monkey suits,” I corrected her.
“Will you stop being so perfect?” she scolded me.
“Nope, but shouldn’t I wear something nice?” I persisted.
“Nope, now stop worrying,” Susie insisted.
I noticed Linda pass one of our front windows and in a moment there came a knock on the door. “Susie? Abby?” Linda called. Susie opened the door and Linda smiled at us. “I wanted to tell you you’re table’s ready. I tried to pick one out that I thought you’d like because I liked it.”
I came up behind Susie and grinned at our young hostess. “That sounds like it’ll fit us just fine. What do we need to wear?”
“Underwear and a bra,” Susie spoke up. I glared at her and Linda’s eyes widened. Susie sheepishly grinned back and shrugged. “I keep telling you everything here is casual. Those snobs out there are overdressed.”
Linda glanced over her shoulder at the dwindling flow of guests and lowered her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. “You don’t have to dress that fancy if you don’t want to. My brother’s told me how a lot of the guests like to make an expensive first impression and they end up sweltering in those furs. It’s not comfortable wearing fur this time of year, even up here where the nights get a little chilly.”
“See? What did I tell you? Just go as you are and relax,” Susie chimed in.
I sighed and shrugged. “All right, let’s get this dinner over with.”
Linda smiled and gave a nod. “I’ll lead you to your table.”
Linda guided us through the slow-moving mess of humanity that was the guest parade and to the lodge. Susie glanced at the faces of our fellow guests and inched closer to me. “They’re really old this session,” she whispered.
“Weren’t they on your last one?” I mused.
She shook her head. “Nope. There were a lot of forty-something people, but not this many of the really old folks.” Susie leaned forward so her chin nearly settled on Linda’s shoulder. “What’s with all the old farts?”
“Susie!” I hissed.
“The guests you see here made their reservations before anyone else because many of them heard about the Gardens from their friends,” she explained.
“So they butted the younger ones out?” she guessed.
“Something like that,” Linda admitted.
We strode through the front doors of the lodge and into the fine lobby. The quiet, empty space was now abuzz with the chatter of cliques, groups, and throngs of the masses of guests. Some of the loners held the walls up with their backs, and others wandered their way through a pair of open doors at the very back of the lobby and on the ground floor. Through the opening I saw a large dining area and ballroom. The lights were partially dimmed, but there were a few spotlights that focused on a stage at the very back of the room. The rest of the floor was occupied by round tables with white coverings.
Linda led us through the mess of guests and into the dining hall. She took us over to a table seated off to the side of the door and three-quarters of the way to the stage. It was situated in a darker spot than most of the other tables, and no one was too close by. Our names were written on cards and placed in front of each of the two seats. Other tables had the same format, and I noticed the guests were led to them by others of various ages, but who wore the same outfit as Linda.
“Is this suitable?” she asked us.
“It’s great!” Susie replied.
“Yeah, perfect,” I agreed. Even if it hadn’t been then neither of us would have said otherwise. Not with those blue eyes of hers pleading for our approval.
“Great. I’ll get you two your menus and see what the chef special is,” she offered.
“Don’t we have a waiter?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “No, we attendants take care of the meals for your lunch and dinner. Breakfast is continental,” she explained.
I raised an eyebrow. “And you take care of the cabin?”
“Yes, but only yours, and it really isn’t any problem. This is how we earn our-um, how we earn our paycheck,” she assured us. “But if you’ll excuse me.”
Linda hurried away, and we took our seats. The chairs were opposite each other and the stage lay at our sides, but Susie scooted her chair nosily over to mine so she hugged my left side and the stage lay on my right and twenty feet away. Her movements weren’t exactly quiet as her chair legs squeaked, squealed, squawked, and screeched along the hard floor. She received a few scowls from other guests nearby, and she scowled right back at them.
“There weren’t this many snooty people on my last session, either,” she mumbled.
“Maybe they’re nervous. It’s the first night,” I defended them. Privately I had to admit the high-class guests made me uncomfortable as I sat there in my shorts and shirt.
Linda alleviated some of our unease when she returned with menus and information. “The special tonight is medium-rare ribs with the house-specialty barbecue sauce,” she announced.
“I’ll take two of those,” Susie teased.
I swept my eyes over the menu and looked up at Linda. “There’s a lot of medium-rare meats on here.”
Linda blinked at me. “Well, yes. As explained in the contract it’s part of the diet to rejuvenate the body.”
I narrowed my eyes and flickered them to Susie, who pretended to whistle and stare at the ceiling. “I must have missed that part.”
“But we also serve a small salad with lunch and dinner, and the all the greens are grown on the lake,” Linda added. A ruckus from a nearby table caught her attention and ours.
“What do you mean I can’t get a steak well-done? I’m not dying of food poisoning,” a large man argued with his smaller male attendant.
“I assure you the meat is cooked long enough to kill any dangerous bacteria, but cooking the meat beyond medium-rare will ruin the diet we have scheduled for you,” his attendant argued.
“What you have scheduled for me is a bunch of diarrhea, now get me a well-done steak!” the man insisted.
“I’m sorry, but it just can’t be done,” the attendant told him.
At another close table a pair of middle-aged women turned to their female attendant and one of them stabbed their menu with their finger. “We don’t eat meat. Can we just have a salad?”
Their attendant shook her head. “No, I’m afraid it’s mandatory to have meat with your lunch and dinner. We can make exceptions if you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m feeling fine, but not for meat. It’s disgusting to eat it,” the woman argued.
A tall gentleman in black dress coat and pants with a white shirt strode over to their table. “Is there a problem?” he asked the women.
“Yes, we don’t want to have any meat. We’re vegans,” she informed him.
He smiled down at the pair, but shook his head. “I’m afraid that can’t be avoided, ma’ams. The diet here specifically demands you eat meat, and it was in the contract you signed before booking a reservation.”
The vegan scoffed. “We thought it was a joke. Who in their right mind would make somebody eat meat?”
“I’m afraid those are the-”
“Waiter! I want to see the head waiter!” the large man cried out.
The man in black straightened and the smile nearly slipped off his lips. “Would you ladies excuse me for a moment?” He moved to the man’s table before they could reply. His end of the conversation was unintelligible, but the man spoke loud enough to quiet the rest of the room.
“I’m not going to get sick at this stupid one-star resort! I paid too much damn money to be here!” the guest argued.
The waiter spoke something to the guest and then man’s attendant, and hurried off. The din of the room partially returned, but the man was still red in the face and his attendant stood awkwardly by his side.
“Wow, dinner and a show,” Susie quipped.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. It doesn’t happen every time,” Linda spoke up.
I smiled and shook my head. “It’s not your fault. We’ll just take the chef special.”
She bowed her head and took our menus. “Your food will be here in a pinch.” She strode to the kitchen to put our food on the waiting list.
As my eyes swept over the tables I saw many of the guests still had their menus. “I don’t think we’ll have to wait very long for our food,” I commented.
“Yeah, everybody’s really picky this session,” Susie agreed.
The irritation in the room was palpable. Half the attendants tried to explain to their guests the contract rules and got as far as their fellow attendant with the angry man. Amid all the tension the lights in the dining hall dimmed, and a hush spread over the crowd when a man walked out onto the stage and the head waiter waited in the wings. My eyes fell on him and widened. It was the guy from the trail.
- Writer
