Knot on Your Life Read online

  I lived on the edge of Cadbury by the Sea and it was wilder here than in the main part of town. There were no sidewalks or streetlights and the ground in front of the houses along the street were filled with native plants, which was the nice way of saying weeds.

  The grounds of Vista Del Mar were literally across the street from my place. But once I passed stone pillars that marked the entrance it was like stepping into another world. It felt rustic and untamed, which was part of its charm as long as no one was expecting a posh resort with fluffy towels and a velvety green lawn.

  There was no lawn here, velvety or otherwise, just dry grass and scrubby growth around the lanky Monterey pines that grew along the driveway. The buildings were covered with dark weathered shingles and blended in with the surroundings.

  I heard the sound of an engine behind me and turned just as a number of cars and SUVs came down the driveway too fast. I had to jump to the side of the road to avoid getting hit. Vista Del Mar had started out as a camp over one hundred years ago, before cars were a consideration. As a result there wasn’t much space for parking and the roadways that wound through the sloping grounds were better suited to golf carts.

  I was surprised by the traffic and noted that the small parking lot near the building called the Lodge was already filled. Normally it was dead around here at this hour. It was the between time when people had already checked out and new arrivals hadn’t checked in yet.

  I had a sudden concern that my group might be part of the early arrivals. I went directly to the Lodge and pulled open the heavy door to check. The Lodge was the main building and served a variety of purposes. It was sort of a mixture of a hotel lobby and a social hall. Guests went there to register and also to hang out.

  A crowd was gathered around the massive registration counter at one end of what was really a giant open space. The rest of the room seemed deserted, as expected for this hour. No one was playing table tennis or pool. The board games and jigsaw puzzles were all on the shelves against the wall. The seating area around the fireplace was empty, as were the small tables scattered around the area for card games or gathering.

  I left my wheeled bin by the door and moved around the back of the crowd to get a look at what was going on. There were two distinct groups hanging out by the counter. I dismissed the larger group as not being my birthday yarn people. Not only were there about twenty of them when I was expecting five, but there were men and women and my group was all female. A lot of them were wearing khaki vests and had binoculars hanging around their necks, which were giveaways that they were the group I called the bird-watchers. They had events at Vista Del Mar regularly throughout the year. They seemed relaxed and were showing each other photos on their phones, no doubt of birds they’d seen. It was the perfect spot for them to have a getaway. They came from all walks of life and for the weekend left everything behind. Their interests really went beyond birds to all of nature. They had speakers, side trips like whale watching on Monterey Bay, and even craft activities.

  A small group was to the side of them and their manner was completely different. At first I thought they were all dressed in black jeans and black turtlenecks, but then I noticed that one of them stuck out from the others. He seemed older and wore gray slacks and a light blue dress shirt. They all had dark hair and his was flaxen. I don’t know why I looked at their footwear, but the light-haired guy had on leather shoes and the rest of them wore sneakers. There was no way they were my retreat group since there was only one woman in the group.

  Something about them kept me watching to see what was going to happen. One of them seemed to be in charge. His dark hair was cut short and his sharp features gave off an aura of impatient arrogance. He was shifting his weight and glaring at the registration desk.

  The others were looking at their phones with lost expressions. I wondered if they were just finding out the place was unplugged. They seemed like the types who viewed their cell phone as an appendage and could be going through some kind of withdrawal. I was glad they weren’t my group since they appeared to be trouble waiting to happen.

  Kevin St. John had just come from the business office in the back to join the single clerk manning the registration counter. He was the manager, or as he saw himself, the Lord of Vista Del Mar. He had a moon-shaped face and always dressed in a dark suit that made him look out of place in the rustic surroundings.

  There were always numerous events going at Vista Del Mar each weekend, but it was surprising that so many people were trying to check in this early. I guess Kevin was surprised too, because his usual bland expression was replaced by what could best be called consternation.

  Just then Cora and Madeleine Delacorte came in the other door and stopped to observe from the sidelines. It looked like Kevin St. John swallowed hard and I assumed he thought they were there checking up on him since they were the owners of the hotel and conference center. Cora, with her overly formal attire and too much green eye shadow, looked in my direction and pursed her lips as she shook her head in a disparaging manner. I noticed her gaze moved beyond me and then I understood. They were there to hold their ground, expecting that after the revelations of the morning Gwen and Crystal would show up to stake a claim on the place.

  “Didn’t they listen?” I said to myself. Madeleine had a weak smile when our eyes met and I almost went over to reassure them that their fears weren’t going to be realized. The only reason that Gwen Selwyn had agreed to confront them was to help her grandson Cory be part of the hotel and conference center. He’d been working there off and on and loved the place. Madeleine had formed an attachment to him without even knowing he was actually part of her family and told me she wanted to help him with college.

  My gaze went back to Kevin St. John, and when he caught me looking at him, he shot me a sour expression. There was no hiding it: he did not like me. He was unhappy that I had taken over my aunt’s retreat business and that the Delacorte sisters had continued to give me the special rate on rooms they’d offered to her. Honestly, if I didn’t get the reduced price there was no way I could have continued the business. As it was I had to supplement my income by making the desserts for the Blue Door restaurant and baking muffins for the coffee spots around town. It helped that the house my aunt had left me with was free and clear. I looked toward the sisters with sudden worry. Were they going to hold the revelations of the morning against me? Maybe Kevin St. John would get his wish after all.

  I considered going to them and trying to smooth things over, though I had no idea how to do it. But I decided to leave everything as is for the moment and my attention went back to the gathered throng of people.

  The manager directed the clerk to deal with the larger group while he offered a solicitous smile to the smaller group and waved for the one in charge to approach.

  I heard someone come in and hoped my group hadn’t chosen that moment to arrive.

  “Are you in line?” a man with a deep baritone voice asked. I turned and saw that a tall dark-haired man wearing a dress shirt with the tie pulled loose had joined me. His sport coat was sitting on his suitcase. He noticed me looking at it. “I know, I seem overdressed, but I’m meeting a client. I’m an accountant. I do his books every year on the same weekend.”

  I told him I wasn’t in line and pointed toward the door that led to the driveway, explaining I lived across the street. “I put on yarn retreats,” I said. “In fact, I’m really here looking for my group. Casey Feldstein,” I said, holding out my hand.

  “Reese Rogers,” he said in his mellow voice. “So what’s a yarn retreat, if I may ask? You sit around the campfire and make up stories?”

  “Not that kind of yarn,” I said. “More like the kind you make sweaters with.”

  “Oh, you mean the thing with the needles,” he said with sudden understanding.

  “Actually, the group I have coming requested learning how to crochet, so no needles, just a hook.” I added that this retreat was different from my usual since they were all frie
nds coming to celebrate a birthday. Then I smiled apologetically. “That’s probably much more information that you wanted.”

  “No problem. It’s always nice to know who else will be here.”

  I noticed that the Delacorte sisters had moved on to the café that was named after them adjacent to the registration area. The manager noticed it too and seemed relieved.

  “They’re sure an intense bunch,” Reese said, watching the group Kevin St. John was dealing with. “I wonder what they’re here for.”

  I shook my head and said I didn’t know. “They look like they need something to de-stress and calm down.” I let out a sigh. “Luckily, I don’t have to worry about them.”

  I was watching how the manager was dealing with them and I had a thought about why he was being so solicitous. He wanted to have as much control over Vista Del Mar as possible and had been trying to get rid of the middle men like me, who put together retreats and just arranged for rooms and rented meeting space from Vista Del Mar. I bet that whatever the group was there for, Kevin St. John had put together the whole thing.

  I was sure I was right when I saw him handing out folders with something stamped on the front, and a moment later he came out from the back to walk them to the door. I thought he was going to escort them to the building with their rooms, but the one who’d seemed in charge brushed him off and said he knew the way.

  As soon as they were gone, Kevin St. John went back behind the counter to help with the bird-watching group.

  “You just have to make sure there’s birthday cake and yarn,” Reese said with a smile. “I love this place. Old-fashioned with real keys to open the doors instead of those plastic cards. And no cell phones ringing incessantly or people staring at their screens like zombies.”

  “Then you don’t mind being cut off?”

  “Oh, no,” he said with a smile. “I relish it. It’s nice not to be reachable for a change. No phone ringing in my room in the middle of the night.”

  It seemed like an odd comment and I had to wonder who he was worried about hearing from, but it was none of my concern. I wished him well and slipped through the throng around the registration desk and slipped a note to the clerk, asking her to give me a call when my group showed up. Her name was Cloris and she mostly worked in the kitchen, but she was always looking for extra hours and regularly filled in wherever she was needed. She seemed to take everything in stride, but I wondered how she felt about her current assignment working so close to Kevin St. John.

  I was about to leave but I stopped when a man came in. He stood out from the rest so much I did a double take. He was wearing black leggings, a loose cream-colored T-shirt and bare feet. I shivered at the bare feet and no jacket, but he seemed oblivious. His black curly hair seemed like it would have been an unruly mop if it hadn’t been tied into a topknot. I watched as he joined the group at the counter. Kevin St. John threw him an annoyed look and separated from the couple he was checking in. He gestured for the barefoot man to follow him as he walked to the far end of the counter. There’s that saying about curiosity killing the cat and all, but it didn’t seem to make an impact on me and I changed directions as if I was going to the café, but stopped near the entrance in earshot of their conversation.

  “You should have been here when they arrived,” Kevin St. John chided. “I’m depending on you to make this retreat a success. I hired you to be the facilitator. I want this group to be happy so they tell their friends about this retreat. If this works we could have groups like them here every weekend.” He pushed a folder on the man and said the schedule of activities was in there. “I better not hear any complaints.” There was just the slightest tone of a threat in the last comment and all I could think of was Good luck, Mr. Bare Feet.

  I’d left my bin by the door and retrieved it so I could get back to the reason I’d come. When I got outside I was struck by how quiet it seemed after the commotion inside. The breeze brought in a surge of moist air that smelled of salt water mixed with the smoke from all the fireplaces in Vista Del Mar. I didn’t bother zipping my jacket since my next stop was nearby.

  Sand and Sea was the closest building with guest rooms and the one I always used for my groups. It dated from the days when Vista Del Mar had been a camp and had housed the counselors. Like the other structures, it was covered in wood shingles that once had been a dark brown but now had pale streaks from the salty breeze.

  The balcony on the second floor room served as a covering for the small porch that led to the entrance, and I pulled the bin up the few stairs. Inside the fire was glowing in the lobby area but all the wing chairs spread around it were empty. When I got to the hallway the cleaning crew was finishing up. I showed them the goodie bags and explained wanting to drop them off. The crew knew me so there was no problem opening the doors to the rooms my group was going to occupy. I gathered several of the small shopping bags on my arm and got ready to start distributing them when a door on the other side of the hall opened. I recognized the guy who seemed like the leader of the group wearing black. He barely gave me a glance but his eyes went to the bags on my arm.

  “I’ll take one,” he said, reaching for it. I shook my head and pulled my arm away.

  “Sorry, but they’re only for my group.” I realized that didn’t really count as an explanation. “I put on retreats here. My group hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “Then you work for the hotel,” he said, still eyeing the bags.

  “No. I just book the rooms and meeting space with Vista Del Mar. I make all the other arrangements and act as host.” I held up the bags. “My group is celebrating a birthday and I thought it would be nice for them to have a few extras.” He wanted to know what was in the bags and I mentioned the nicer toiletries and the snacks. “And of course a generous supply of chocolate,” I said. He looked down into the bin and saw the bottles of sparkling water, and I said they all got one of those too.

  He grimaced with dissatisfaction. “We should be getting all that too.” With that he walked away without even a “have a nice day.”

  I shrugged it off and went about my business. I left the bags and water in a prominent position in each of the rooms. The final touch was to tuck a sachet on each of the beds. It would leave a lovely fragrance on the sheets and was also known as a sleep aid.

  The bin was a lot lighter as I headed for the meeting room I’d arranged for the yarn workshops. I passed my favorite of the Monterey cypress trees. Most of the ones on Vista Del Mar had been shaped by the constant breeze and the dull green foliage reminded me of someone running with their hair trailing behind. But this one was protected from the wind and had more of a symmetrical shape. I took a deep breath of the damp air and enjoyed the moment of solitude. It really was the calm before the storm.

  The single-story building holding the meeting room had been added later, and while every effort had been made to make it fit in with the older buildings, it still looked more modern. Like all the other Vista Del Mar structures, it had a name and was called Cypress. There were two meeting rooms in the building and I always used the same one. The door was open and I pulled my load in.

  I was glad to see that everything was ready for the first workshop we’d have that afternoon. A fire had been laid in the fireplace and was ready to be lit. The counter where the coffee and tea service sat had cups, accessories and napkins ready. I dropped off the tin of chocolate-topped cookies next to a stack of snack-sized paper plates. The long table seemed a little too big for this small group, but it was either that or just the chairs with an expanded armrest, which were too limiting. I checked the plastic bin against the wall and saw that it was loaded with sparkly yarn. A second one had crochet hooks and samples of the finished project. I took out the tote bags and added them to the last bin.

  My yarn skills weren’t up to teaching others yet and I was glad to hand off that task to the two yarn experts I’d come to know in Cadbury. Since this group was so small, I’d hired only Crystal to do the honors, but after the showdown
earlier that morning I wondered if I’d made a mistake. What if she was upset with the way the Delacorte sisters had reacted to the news she was part of their family. Would she blame it on me since I was the messenger and then take it out on my group? I could hear Frank telling me it was my own fault for stirring everything up.

  I pulled out a chair and sat down. I’d learned enough about yarn craft by now to know that it was a good stress reducer. So much so that I always carried a small easy project for times like this when I needed to let go. I pulled out the tiny pink triangle hanging on the cable between the two short knitting needles. I took a couple of deep breaths and began on the next row of the washcloth. Every row would add a stitch, and it was repetitive and easy. By the third row I was feeling better. I hoped that this retreat was going to be problem-free. Then I laughed at my own naivete. When did that ever happen?

  Chapter 3

  Just as I was about to cross the street a red Ford 150 truck came barreling down the quiet thoroughfare and then pulled up to the curb. Dane stuck his head out of the window and regarded me with a grin. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he cut the engine and popped out of the truck. Instead of his cop uniform he wore a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt, both of which accentuated the fabulous shape he was in. He seemed to be all muscle and moved with a spring in his step. He went to hug me, but backed off when he hit my resistance, and his angular face softened as a smile danced in his eyes.

  “Oops, I forgot public displays of affection are still a no-no with you.” His voice, as expected, had a teasing tone.

  “Just in a small town. If this was New York City, no problem at all,” I said.

  He looked up and down the empty street. One side of it was all trees and brush that hid Vista Del Mar, and the other side was populated with small houses of different styles. “Right, there are so many people watching us,” he said.