To catch a fox, p.13
To Catch a Fox, page 13
“Here’s one addressed to you,” Cassandra said.
“Read it. I have no secrets.”
Probably from a former guest harbouring a fantasy involvement with him, one with whom he’d experienced a quick fling. Cassandra was cool about his past.
“It’s from someone named Hank.”
He couldn’t recall a guest with that name. It made him think of an old man who fixed toilets.
“Who’s Marion?” Cassandra said.
A misty image of a woman took shape. Sebastiano leapt out of the chair and across the room to the computer. He read over Cassandra’s shoulder, ‘Julie Fox, Marion’s daughter, looked me up in LA. All I could tell her was that Marion died. Julie seems like a nice girl. If you want to talk to her, I’ll put you in touch. Don’t be surprised if she shows up.’
“Marion had a daughter?” he said aloud.
“Who’s Marion?” Cassandra asked again, craning her neck to look up at him. “A former lover?”
“She never breathed a word about a child.”
“Were you two involved?”
“Enough for her to have revealed that.”
“Lovers keep secrets.”
“She wasn’t a lover.”
Why was he lying? Marion was deep in the past. He paced to the bookcase. Hank had to be someone from Marion’s old crowd. Whenever Sebastiano met one of them in LA, he’d tell the story she’d wanted spread.
“Marion died in a car crash,” he said.
“When?”
“Ten years ago.”
“Were you still lovers at that point?”
“Not me. She and my friend had been lovers.”
A daughter. Should he contact this Fox woman? He certainly wouldn’t alert Aurora. She wasn’t good with surprises. Although, if this daughter appeared, Aurora’s face would be priceless.
“Can you print out Hank’s message? I’ll never find it again if we leave it on the computer.”
“Even you aren’t that technically dense.”
He pressed Delete once the print copy was made.
“Julie,” he said. “Marion must have had her before I—my friend—came on the scene. She must be in her twenties. More like thirties.”
“You better not fall for her.” Cassandra sashayed toward him. She held the print copy of Hank’s message in her long fingers.
“No chance of that.” He massaged her robe over her hips.
“I want to hear all about Marion.”
“She’s dead, and I swear we weren’t lovers.”
“Then why has your face been sheet white since I mentioned her name?”
“I’m just floored by the thought of Marion as a mother.” If this Julie burst into the retreat, or if he contacted her, nothing would change. Aurora would dismiss her, and she’d disappear. He and Aurora would never speak of her again.
Or…
There might be a way he could use this.
“I’m waiting,” Cassandra said.
“For what?”
“To hear about Marion.”
His subconscious must have spun those lies to Cassandra for a reason. What story was she most likely to believe? Could he steal one from Aurora, that Cassandra had heard before? He’d say the story was really about Marion, but Aurora appropriated it for herself for instruction and effect.
“Not here, in Aurora’s space.” He drew Cassandra to him. “Let’s go to my cottage.”
“Sex won’t get you out of telling me the truth.”
He ushered her out of the office and closed the door behind them. Their walk through the building and herb garden would give him time to work out a plausible tale.
Chapter Fourteen
Julie opened the laptop on the kitchen table and Googled New Dawn Retreat. The website described it as nestled between hills. Two hours from the bustle of Los Angeles.
“Find anything?” Delilah called from the sofa.
Built in the style of a Tuscan villa. Olive groves. Explore the inner you under the guidance of Aurora. Julie peered at the shadowy photo of Aurora, who seemed to be a sort of spiritual leader. Dressed in a blue toga, her blonde hair swept up on her head, she looked about forty. Another photo showed smiling people on lounge chairs around a kidney-shaped pool. Guided hikes. Three buffet meals a day. Julie clicked on the rates.
“It’s not cheap,” she said. “The site doesn’t mention Sebastiano. I hope he’s still there. Aurora could be the business partner Hank mentioned.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to email them.” Delilah shuffled into the kitchen.
“We’ll learn more going in person,” Julie said. “Take them by surprise, our PI’s motto. It worked with Terry.”
“Are you going to phone the PI?”
“Why bother, unless we get nothing from Sebastiano?”
Delilah opened a bag of chips.
“You’re hungry after those huge sandwiches?”
Footsteps pounded overhead—likely their neighbours returning home from work.
“Are you up for a day trip tomorrow?” Julie asked.
“Not another long drive.” Delilah munched a chip.
“Only two hours.”
“People always underestimate the time.”
Julie returned her attention to the computer. She was tense, but not as depressed as she would have expected. Maybe it was denial or the relief of knowing one fact after thirty-four years of uncertainty and of finally being able to do something. Sebastiano might lead to…she didn’t know what, but he was one step closer.
Delilah carried the chips to the living room and collapsed on the sofa again. On the drive back from Glendale, she’d barely responded to Julie’s musings about her mother, Hank, and the retreat. Sure, Delilah wasn’t as invested in the search, but she’d shown a genuine interest before last night. Julie hoped her stepsister wasn’t coming down with something that would prevent her from driving tomorrow. The retreat sounded too isolated to be reached by bus.
Julie clicked on her email. A message from Eric, ‘What happened?’ Sent from his mobile phone, presumably from work. One from Rosemary, ‘How are you girls making out?’
“Your mother wrote me,” Julie called out.
“She must be wondering why I didn’t email today.”
“Did you tell her about Hank?”
“You asked me not to.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Julie said. “All it will do is worry them.” She typed a reply to Rosemary, ‘We finally talked to “the stoner,” as Dad calls him. He was pretty sharp, and not even stoned. A friend of a friend of his may have information about my mother.’ She deleted ‘my mother’ and typed ‘Marion’ to make the quest seem less significant for her. ‘The PI’s been in San Francisco. He’s back in LA and can see us on Monday. I doubt he’ll offer much, but we’ll leave no stone unturned and all that. Tomorrow Delilah and I are planning a drive in the country. We’ll enjoy the break from LA.’ She reread the message. It had the right balance of seriousness and lightness. After pressing Send, she checked the weather forecast. Sunny and warm tomorrow.
Her mother had died in a rainstorm. Was she the driver or a passenger in the car? Did it skid off the road into a post, the sea, or another vehicle? Maybe Sebastiano would know.
Julie stared at Eric’s message, debating how much to tell him. He was obviously interested, perhaps concerned, but wouldn’t brood on it like her dad and Rosemary. Julie typed, ‘We talked to Hank, the guy who knew my mother. Marion was in a car accident five or more years ago. She died. I’m surprisingly okay with it.’ Julie’s eyes stung. ‘Hank gave us a lead. Best not to tell my parents yet.’ Her throat constricted. She blinked away tears. Her fingers slipped off the keyboard. She wanted to tell Eric everything, but her fingers stiffened on the keys. ‘More later. J.’
* * *
“I think we’ve finally left LA,” Julie said. “The houses are farther and farther apart.”
“There’s a farm,” Delilah noted. “Or horses, anyway.” The GPS announced the upcoming turnoff. “And there’s a sign for Palm Springs. I wouldn’t mind going there sometime.”
Delilah acted, if not perky, less zombie-ish than yesterday. Last night’s solid sleep had made her feel better, she’d said, and settled some things in her mind. What things? Julie had gone to bed thinking about today, but exhaustion had knocked her out too. Somehow, she’d slept through the usual noises and her tension.
“We could stay overnight out here,” Julie said. “Might be a peaceful escape from sirens and the neighbours’ racket.”
They turned right at the major intersection and passed through farmland punctuated with scrub.
“I wouldn’t mind a coffee and a bite to eat,” Delilah said.
“Good idea,” Julie said. “It doesn’t sound like this retreat has a restaurant.” Food would fuel her for facing the man who had known her mother, perhaps intimately. “I wonder what Sebastiano is like.”
“Aside from ‘gorgeous’?”
At last they entered a town. Ahead was a motel, a gas station and Rita’s Café, which turned out to be a 1950s diner. Laminate counter. Red vinyl booths and chairs. Posters of Elvis and James Dean. Julie suggested they sit in a booth. She flipped through the jukebox listings. Country…The Sixties…Queen.
“Do you think this place is retro or just missed the last half century?” Julie said.
A waitress brought them menus.
“We’re on our way to the New Dawn Retreat,” Julie told her.
The woman’s middle-aged face broke into a smile. “That’s right. It’s turnover day.”
“Pardon?”
“Saturday. The old crop leaves, new one arrives. Like you, they sometimes stop before going in, but they always zip past on the way out. It would be interesting to see if the week there changed them.”
“Is it supposed to?”
“That’s the theory, according to Sebastiano.”
Julie sat up straight. “Do you know him?”
“He comes in for burgers and fries when he needs a break from healthy grub.”
“What’s he like?”
The woman’s pencilled eyebrows rose. “You’ll see for yourself,” she said, and left.
“There’s a motel next door with only one car out front,” Julie said to Delilah. “If we decide on that break from LA noise, they’d probably have a room for us.”
“What about toothbrushes, pyjamas, fresh clothes for the morning?”
The waitress returned with two glasses of water. Julie noticed her name tag, ‘Trish.’
“Do retreat visitors ever come here midweek?” Julie asked her.
“Not much,” Trish said. “When they do, it’s to use the Wi-Fi. A few grumble about going stir-crazy out there, away from everything.”
“There’s no internet?” Delilah said.
“The management has it, I think. Don’t get me wrong,” Trish said. “There’s only a handful who don’t mesh with the retreat. Sebastiano says most love it and hate to leave. He wouldn’t lie about that. There’s no bull about him.”
“Is there bull about anyone else there?” Julie asked. She glanced at Delilah, who was absorbed in her menu.
“It’s just the two of them, Sebastiano and Aurora,” Trish said. “The gardener also lives on-site. He’s a quiet one. Never comes to town. For the most part, the town goes to New Dawn. They’re the major employer in these parts. Cleaning staff, cooks, seamstresses, handymen, grocery suppliers. Before them, we were mainly retirees and orange groves.”
“Your café must appreciate the economic spinoffs.”
Trish nodded. “Without the retreat, I’d have had to leave for a job in the city. Have you decided on your orders?”
Delilah closed her menu. “I’ll have the bacon burger and fries.”
“Sebastiano’s favourite.”
“Make mine the same, without bacon,” Julie said.
Delilah asked for a milkshake too. “Chocolate.”
“Ditto, but strawberry,” Julie said. “So, why would a holiday retreat need seamstresses?”
Trish chuckled. “They all dress up in these Roman-like robes. The seamstresses go out Saturday to fit the new arrivals. It sounds peculiar but feels normal there, so everyone tells me. Sebastiano and some of the men prefer tunics and shirts, with leggings.”
“The owners are Sebastiano and Aurora?”
“Aurora’s the main honcho. I’ll be back with your shakes in a jiff.”
Julie watched Trish leave and turned to Delilah. “I get the sense she doesn’t like Aurora.”
“She didn’t say anything about her.”
“It was her tone.” Julie raised a brow. “Trish likes to gossip. She’d be good for information.” Julie pictured a buff man in a Robin Hood costume. “I wonder if she’s sweet on Sebastiano.”
Minutes later, Trish approached again. She set the milkshakes on their paper placemats.
“What’s Aurora like?” Julie asked.
Trish smoothed her apron. “I’ve only seen her a few times. Those who work for her say she’s firm, pleasant, and fair. None of them feels they know her, really, but they seem loyal.” Trish excused herself to serve the next table.
“That sounded positive,” Delilah said.
“We’ll find out for ourselves in an hour or so.”
The milkshakes were thick, the burgers juicy. Despite her nerves, Julie found it all remarkably tasty. As Trish cleared their plates, Julie asked her for directions to the New Dawn Retreat, which didn’t show up on their GPS.
“Take the road south out of town,” Trish said. “When the orchards give out, you’ll pass a few shacks in the brush and come to the end of the line. You can’t miss it.”
* * *
Shortly before 1:00 p.m., they drove up to the sign, ‘New Dawn Retreat.’ The gate was open. Delilah pulled into the parking lot. Another sign directed them to the office around the side of a stone building.
To the west, orange trees terraced up a slope. The sky overhead couldn’t be clearer. Past the office building, an expansive lawn stretched to a similar building in the distance. A tree with spreading, bare limbs stood in the centre of the lawn. In summer, the leaves would provide welcome shade over the swing beneath it.
The door in the office building opened just ahead of them. Julie froze on the stone path. A woman draped in a pale-pink robe stood on the doorstep. She looked to be in her late thirties.
“Aurora?”
“She’s away. I’m replacing her until Monday.”
In the picture, Aurora did look a little older than this woman with long dark hair. Julie had been curious to meet New Dawn’s spiritual leader, but that wasn’t her purpose. Standing on the step, this other woman matched Julie’s height.
“I’m Cassandra,” the woman continued. “All of our guests this past week told me they didn’t miss a thing with Aurora away. I’m sure you’ll be completely satisfied with your week here.”
“We aren’t staying,” Julie said. “I’m looking for Sebastiano.”
“Can I help you?”
“It’s personal. I have a few questions for him. My name is Julie Fox.”
Cassandra’s mouth fell open, like a hole in a tree trunk.
“A man named Hank—”
“We’ve been expecting you.”
“You have?” Julie’s gaze shot to Delilah, who looked equally surprised.
“Hank emailed a heads-up,” Cassandra said. “Sebastiano told me about your mother. I am sorry.”
“I was hoping Sebastiano could tell me more.”
“He’s in town now but should be back any minute.” Cassandra scanned them both from head to toe. Her long face was beautiful in an odd way. Julie revised Cassandra’s age—perhaps early thirties.
“Do you want to come in?” Cassandra said. “I can get you some tea.”
Outside, in this glorious sunshine, Julie could deal with whatever horrors Cassandra dropped, and if she couldn’t, she could run to the car. Inside, she’d be trapped.
A mechanical noise whirred on the lawn. Someone riding a lawn tractor.
“Is that the gardener?” Julie asked.
Cassandra stepped onto the path. “He does the mowing during this period between guests.”
“I’ll wait out here,” Julie said. “We don’t get winter like this in Canada.”
“You came all this way to find your mother?”
Julie faced her. “I want the whole truth. Don’t spare me anything.”
The whirring got louder as the mower drove toward them. A man in coveralls rode on top. At the path, he steered the tractor away from them.
“Your mother was involved with Sebastiano’s best friend,” Cassandra said. “Romantically.”
Julie steeled her legs for the rest.
“The friend was kind of an innocent,” Cassandra continued. “This was some fifteen years ago. She was his older woman. You get the drift? He was infatuated with her. It was mutual until Marion lost interest.”
Cassandra shifted so that her back was to the sun. Julie wished she hadn’t left her sunglasses in the car. She moved sideways so Cassandra’s body blocked the sunlight.
“The friend followed her everywhere, moping,” Cassandra said. “Marion lost patience, and who wouldn’t? When she finally brushed him off, the boy committed suicide.”
Julie felt Delilah’s fingers grip her arm.
Cassandra raised her hand. Was the gesture for sympathy or drama? Pink material flowed down from her wrist. “He walked into the ocean. A smart swimmer, he knew the tide was going out and he wouldn’t have the strength to get back. This friend was closer to Sebastiano than a brother. His death broke Sebastiano but also turned him around from drifting, hanging out on the beach, scrounging a living as a surfing coach. Aurora was one of Sebastiano’s students. She wanted to learn to ride the waves because ‘that’s what life is about,’ she said, ‘opening yourself to new experiences.’ She’d saved money from her job at a bank and had a vision for a retreat.”
Had Marion also been drifting, hanging out, scrounging? Did she feel responsible for the young man’s death? Did it change her too? Lead her to the right man for her, or a wrong one; the one who died with her in the crash?
