The Alpine Journey Read Online Free Page B

We were supposed to meet Ray for dinner at six.
    “We're going to be late,” Mavis announced, staring at her feet, which were presently shod in expensive brown suede pumps. “If I buy these—and I don't think I can help doing it—I'll need a purse to go with them, and I have to have it now.”
    “But don't we have a reservation for six at Jake's?” I asked, wiggling my toes around in semisensible navy flats that were reasonably suited to my informal Alpine lifestyle.
    “Jake's is so jammed on weekends that you never get seated on time. I'll call Ray from here and tell him to hold down the fort for half an hour. Besides,” she added with a faint leer, “we still haven't discussed your love life.”
    “Whatever that may be,” I murmured, thinking of Milo half-asleep on my sofa after a ten-hour day chasing speeders and breaking up domestic brawls.
    Our salesman returned, bearing yet another half-dozen enticing boxes. Mavis, who has the usual brass of a longtime journalist, waved away the new arrivals and asked to use the phone at the sales desk.
    “I'm taking these,” she said, tapping her toes. “The black lizardy ones, too.”
    I hemmed and hawed. The salesman, who was very young and earnest, trotted out two more pairs in my size. “You might think green this fall,” he said. “Lime is the new neutral.”
    I started to protest, but upon closer inspection, lime looked rather nice. There was no doubt in my mind that I'd be the first woman in Skykomish County with lime shoes.
    If Mavis could buy two pairs of shoes, so could I. “Let's try them,” I said.
    They fitted as well as the navy pair. But where were my basics? “Maybe,” I temporized, “I should try on the black ones with the patent toe again.”
    I was parading around in front of the mirror when Mavis returned, looking worried. “Ray says there's a message on our machine from your friend Vida. She won't be coming back to Alpine Sunday, and wants you to call her and let her know if you can make other arrangements. Here's where you can reach her, at least until six.” Mavis handed me a Nordstrom sales-associate card on which she'd scrawled the number.
    I lacked the brass to use the desk phone. Besides, it was long distance, and given Vida's message, I sensed that privacy was required. Flustered, I told our salesman I'd take all three pairs of flats, handed him my credit card, and rushed off to find a pay phone.
    I was so flustered by Vida's message that it took me three tries to get through. When I finally heard the phone ringing at the other end, a charming voice informed me that I had reached the Ecola Creek Lodge. After asking for Vida, I heard another three rings before she answered.
    “What's wrong?” I demanded in an anxious voice.
    “It's a family emergency.” Vida sounded like an automaton.
    “What kind?”
    “The worst kind.”
    I sucked in my breath. “You mean …?”
    “Can you take a train to Seattle and find a ride to Alpine?” The brittle tone in Vida's voice was unfamiliar.
    “I could rent a car,” I said doubtfully. “I could rent it here, for that matter, and drive.… Vida, what's the matter? Can I help?”
    There was such a long silence that I thought we'd been disconnected. “No.” Her voice was now hushed. “No,” she said more firmly. Then, added on a rollercoaster of emotions: “I don't think so.”
    “Vida, I'm coming to Cannon Beach. Tonight. Where is this place you're staying?”
    “No, no, no.” The last
no
was almost inaudible; I could picture Vida propping the phone against her shoulder, whipping off her glasses, and frantically rubbing at her eyes. “I couldn't ruin your weekend with Mavis.”
    “We've already talked our heads off,” I asserted. “If you've got problems, I want to help. Just give me directions. I'll have dinner with Mavis and Ray, pick up my stuff at their place, and rent a car. They must have a dropoff in Cannon Beach—it's a tourist town.”
    “Really, Emma, I don't