Jill Churchill: Fear of Frying

“Well, you wouldn't, I guess. She's a worker bee. Never speaks up, never has any fresh ideas, but will do anything she's assigned and do it well and without seeming to want any recognition."

“What a paragon!"

“Yes, but she's very nice. I ran into her last week in the grocery store and she was all bubbly about this vacation. Apparently neither family has had any sort of vacation for years. The brothers have very difficult, demanding, elderly parents who should be in a retirement home, but refuse to go. The parents have an old house, both need constant medical care and a housekeeper and cook. According to Marge, they treat everybody she and Sam hire for them like medieval serfs and can't keep anyone more than a month or two. She didn't put it in those words, but it was easy to read between the lines. So her husband and his brother — and of course, their wives — are constantly on duty, having to replace people. I guess one of them finally put his foot down and decided they'd take some time off — no matter what.""So who are the brothers?"

“Marge's husband is Sam. I think he's the older one. He seems more like a college professor than a car dealer. Kind of prissy. The other is John, who's a glad-hander. I've only met him once and wasn't crazy about him. Cheerful, but real brash and loud."

“Who else?" Jane asked.

“I'm not sure. Somebody from the school board and somebody from the city council. Ah, here we are.”

They turned at another freshly painted sign. The drive was narrow and wound through a thick stand of pines. Autumn wildflowers bloomed at the side of the road. As they rounded the last curve, they saw a large building that resembled an overgrown log cabin. It was two stories high and had a porch across the front with some ancient rocking chairs set about in companionable groupings. The building looked old — as if it had been part of the landscape for decades. The logs from which it was constructed were covered with bark. Lichen and moss grew on the logs, and tender-looking ferns clustered close to the building.

“Golly!" Jane said as Shelley pulled the van up in front of the entrance. "What a neat place." As they stepped out of the car, Jane breathed deeply. "Real pine scent! And there's a campfire somewhere. Can you smell it?"

“Take a look around," Shelley said, rummaging in her purse for her paperwork. "I'll get us checked in.”

Jane strolled along the porch, testing a couple of the rocking chairs. "I could sit here for hours just drinking this air," she said out loud, startling a woodpecker who'd been tapping furiously on the building. This struck her as appropriately rustic, even though a woodpecker at her own house had once driven her nearly to frenzy.

Shelley was back in a minute. "Nobody at the desk," she said, "but I found this on the bulletin board." She'd removed two keys and a map from an envelope. "Hop in the van."

“We're not staying here?"

“No, there are cabins down the road. We're looking for Happy Memories."

“Sure we are. Isn't everybody?"

“Jane, don't be a smart aleck. That's the name of the cabin."

“The name of the cabin? Happy Memories? That's so horribly cute I don't think I can stand it!"

“It's on the right, but not for a bit," Shelley said, putting the van in gear and heading down a narrow, pine-shaded drive that ran at right angles to the road they'd come in on. Little rustic signposts identified the driveways to cabins, some of which weren't even visible from the road. SUMMER'S END, HOME AGAIN, DEER RUN VIEW, and finally HAPPY MEMORIES.

“Oh, Shelley!" Jane sighed at the sight of the cabin. It was a tiny version of the main lodge building — neatly fitted logs with rough bark, a beautifully mossy wood-shake roof hugged by overhanging branches, spots of bright fall wildflowers in the surrounding woods.

They pulled in and hopped out of the van. The surprisingly modern lock on the door worked easily. The interior was extremely "cabinish" with knotty pine walls and a wood floor scattered with braided rugs in soothing, muted colors. The furniture — two single beds, a couple of tables, and a pair of deeply cushioned chairs with afghans tossed over the backs — was primitive. So was the stone hearth around the fireplace. But to Jane's surprise, the entire far wall was all glass, floor-to-ceiling windows, with French doors leading to a back porch the width of the cabin. Three more rocking chairs like the one at the main building sat glowing in the late afternoon sun. There was fireplace wood stacked at the end of the porch, just waiting to become a cozy fire.

Jane went out on the porch, which hung out over a steep incline. Below, a small creek burbled past, and above her, birds warbled. A squirrel leaped from one tree to another, swinging wildly on the branch. "Shelley, this is really heaven— Shelley?”

Jane went inside, just as Shelley came in the other door laden with her belongings. "Which bed do you want?" she asked.

“The one nearest the porch, if that's okay. What is all that stuff?"

“The necessities of life," Shelley said, unloading a hair dryer, lighted makeup mirror, hot rollers, and coffeemaker.

“Uh-huh," Jane said. "There might be a small problem, Shelley." She pointed at the small kerosene lamp sitting on the table between the beds, and the other one on the table on the far wall. "There don't seem to be any electrical outlets.”

Shelley stared at Jane blankly, then stared at the kerosene lamps, looked at the ceiling, hoping in vain to see an overhead light. Then she sat down on the bed, among her appliances. "Oh, Jane. I'll die without electricity! What have I done to us?”

TWO

Shelley ran outside, looked around, and came back in, saying accusingly, "There are wires coming into the cabin, so there must be electricity."

“Probably just phone lines," Jane said, pointing to a telephone sitting on a tiny table. Shelley was so seldom rattled about anything that it was a pleasure to see her scrambling around looking for electricity. But Jane was a little concerned, too. She'd planned on using her laptop to keep in touch with the kids and with her "significant other" (a phrase she hated, but her teenage daughter was mortified by the concept of her mother having a "boyfriend," and Jane had reluctantly adopted Katie's preferred modern terminology), Mel VanDyne, via modem. But while the laptop had a battery, it probably didn't have enough juice to last for several days. Still, there would certainly be power in the main lodge where she could recharge it, while Shelley would look pretty silly using the lodge to dry and curl her hair and put on her makeup.

While Shelley got progressively more frantic in her search, Jane explored the rest of the cabin. It was rectangular with a large section taken out on the north wall. The first door into this section revealed a tiny storage room with extra blankets and pillows and a lot of fishing gear. Minnow buckets, life preservers, a selection of elderly fishing poles, and a tackle box. She closed that door and tried the other, which was the bathroom.

And what a bathroom! "Shelley!" Jane exclaimed. "Get a look at this!”

There was a large, deep tub with water-jet hardware, a double sink, and a separate area that had a very modern toilet and glass-enclosed shower. Jane stared for a moment before realizing she had reflexively flipped on the light switch when she entered the room.

“Lights! Electricity!" Shelley exclaimed. Then she started laughing. "Talk about selective renovations! What an absolutely fabulous bathroom!”

It was a strange juxtaposition — the knotty-pine, rocking-chair, kerosene-lamp, handmade-afghan main room and the luxury-hotel-suite bathroom — a weird combination Jane heartily approved of. In the back of her mind there had been a dark fear that outhouses might figure in this trip.