Moira was standing just inside the kitchen when Top and I came in from the porch.
She wore her red jeans, a purplish blouse with a ruffled elastic collar and puffed short sleeves. She had rolled up one of my bandannas, a dark red one, and tied it around her head; her hair loose along her cheeks and gathered in a low knot. She had put on make-up: eyeliner and a pale blue eyeshadow, pink gloss on her lips.
She smiled at Top and gave a little wave of her fingers. He greeted her cheerfully. Then she gestured to me to follow her into the living room.
She turned to me and said in her parental voice, "I want a talk with you, William."
I suggested we go out to the front lawn. I sent her on ahead and went back to the kitchen. Top was lifting a square of waffle from the skillet. I leaned over and said, "She may be getting cold feet. She may ask me to take her away from here. She's dressed for a ride."
Top didn't want to hear this. He shifted in his chair, gave me a disapproving look, and said, "She knows we're going to the cabin for lunch, doesn't she? I mentioned it last night, after the movie. I'm having two of my Mexicans" (He meant groundskeepers) "take Stella and Edna shopping for what we need. Don't play up the seance too much to her, now Hangman, you know how these games work. Indeed. We do it for fun really. Ease her mind, won't you?"
Of course he was right to talk me back down to earth. The odds were that the seance would end with guffaws and head shaking and better luck next time. But still, this was not the usual pseudo drama that Top was fond of cooking up. I could not shake the feeling that things would be coming to a head; resulting not in a death, necessarily, but in a resolution that would leave me empty and cold. I couldn't really explain it to myself. I didn't want to.
I glanced out at the Tibetan demon mask, and when I was going out the front door I thought of Gwen, her forlorn face dark and ghostly in the window.
Moira was staring at the water fountain. She noticed me come up to her and she forced a big smile that was gone the next instant. "Josie wants me to text him directions to the cabin when we get there," she said, "so he and...Roberta will be sure to find it." She spoke as if recounting a bad dream. "I know what you think of me. But I don't really want her-- I mean his mother-- to come. I mean 'her' mother. Roberta is so fake. She acts like she likes me and that nothing wrong happened. She always puts her hand on my arm when she talks to me. I want to tell Josie that if her mother's coming then I'd rather they both stay away."
I had an urge to insist that she tell Josie exactly that. But I merely said it was up to her. She was staring at me in a critical manner. "You want me to do it."
I knew what she meant. "I doubt you'll have the opportunity."
"Is it just a joke then? Is Top a fake, too? You said I wouldn't be bored here. Is that all there is to it? Ghost stories and a tea party by the lake?"
I nearly laughed. "Is that what you want me to tell you? Or do you want to hear that Top is a ruthless old bastard who has more than one notch on his Samurai sword?"
"You're not scaring me. Tell me the truth. Is anything really going to happen? I don't think this is a haunted house. If this seance thing at the cabin is just a silly game between two blowhard old men, then there's no reason for Josie and... her mother to come."
I advised her to take it all in stride. I confess that I was aroused by her exasperated attitude. And she knew it, for when I asked her if she wanted to carry it out, she said tersely, "You want me to." Then, looking away: "I think I told you those things last night so you'd, you know, make love to me like you do when I tease you that way."
I considered that, but I didn't believe she was just making it all up last night, with her eyes marbled and the nervous twisting of her fingers in her lap. It had been no different from the other times. I said, "If that's how it is, then we'll pack up and leave. Now."
She seemed alarmed at my suggestion. "It wouldn't be fair to Top if we leave now. He's been so nice to us. We can't just run off."
"Then tell Josie not to come. Tell him to go home with his mother."
She closed her eyes and ran her tongue along her upper lip. She was trying to make up her mind. To help her, I walked over to a tree and leaned against it, taking out my tobacco and papers.
A double-cab Ram pickup came up the pebbled drive and stopped at the side of the house. It was the two groundskeepers. One got out and nodding to me he went to the door and rang the bell. Moira came over and said to me, "Make me a cigarette. I don't feel hungry. I'll wait for lunch."
"Where?" I asked.
"At the fucking cabin. What's it like?"
"Haunted."
The two widows came out of the house chatting to the groundskeeper. They were so chipper and so obviously enjoying the idea of a day at the cabin that it seemed contrived, arranged by Top to put Moira at ease. She noted it and looked up at me with a smirk. I asked, "What about Josie and his mother?"
She examined the roll, then put it between her lips. I held the butane to its twisted end. She coughed smoke and said, "If they really want to come, they can come. But I'm not letting Roberta put her hand on me."
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