“Okay, we’ll find you a bad boy, one of those you like from the Village. That’ll get your mind off him for a while.”
“I don’t want one of those either.”
“Well, what is it that you do want, huh?”
I thought about it for a while, and the question perplexed me. “I really don’t know.”
Ruthie gave me a hushed murmur; she was already almost dreaming.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Altogether it took two days and two nights to arrive at the Pines Camp. The final stretch of road was too rough for a car ride, so we were transferred to a couple of horse-drawn carriages for the last hour. As we bounced around on the hard wooden benches, I was kicking myself for agreeing to such a ridiculous journey. But then, as we got closer, it began to smooth out into a more groomed path.
At around five o’clock we knew we were close because lanterns were being set up as we crossed the guest bridge. Everything was so still and quiet except for the sound of the coach wheels, the harnesses and the horses’ hooves striking gravel. Trail guides waved to us from the side of the road, and I waved back.
“What are they doing?” I asked Eugene, a guide who’d been sent to collect us from the cars.
“They’ve been waiting for us, so they can let the hosts know we’re arriving,” he said. “They run back to the camp now to alert them.”
As the horses pulled us up over the hill, the clusters of pinetrees opened up a little, letting the late afternoon sun stream in, and the camp appeared: quaint log cabins set on the shore of glittering Osgood Pond with a croquet lawn as its centerpiece. When we stepped out of the carriage, the smell of wood fires wafted up from the lodge and I felt a deep, healing peace from our surroundings.
“Oh my,” I whispered, almost speechless. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
A woman in her early fifties approached our carriages wearing trousers, a collared shirt and a cardigan, looking completely relaxed.
“Welcome to the Pines,” she said. “We’re all so excited that you’re here.”
“Thank you for having us,” Ruthie said. The rest of the girls were the quietest I’d ever heard them—looking around in awe at the towering trees, the cottages dotted throughout the property, separated by bushes and pathways, each cottage glowing like something out of a fairy-tale book. All thoughts of mud and bugs and sleeping in tents immediately dissipated.
“I know the journey up is treacherous, but I hope you’re feeling all right now that you’re here.”
“We’re thrilled to be here—it’s been a real adventure,” I said.
“Well, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” She linked her arm through mine and led us toward the cabins.
“I’m Olive Shine,” I said. “Really, this is magical.”
“Oh, you’re Olive!” she said. “I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing you perform, but I’ve heard so much about you.” I smiled, wonderingwhat she’d heard. “I’m going to send someone up to each of your cabins to show you where things are and make sure you’re comfortable,” she said, turning back so everyone could hear her. “I want you all to have a chance to rest after your long journey, then at eight o’clock we’ll be serving dinner in the main dining room. Will that give you enough time to dress? Does anyone need me to send one of my maids early to help you get ready?”
We all shook our heads. “Gentlemen, do you need someone to come and brush your hair?” Ruthie asked Howie and Wallace, laughing.
“I think we’ll be all right,” Howie said, shaking his head.
“There’s a seamstress on the property, should you need anything mended while you’re here. A lost button, a dropped hem, ironing, anything you need, you just let us know and it’ll be attended to. Tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to settle in and take in some of the scenery and activities, I’ll show you the rehearsal space and the stage, and our butler, Mr. Ward, will go over the performance schedule.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful for the fresh air, the smell of pines, and her hospitality. “I’m so sorry,” I said as she delivered Ruthie and me to our cabin, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh, my goodness, I was so excited to meet you, I completely forgot to properly introduce myself. Where are my manners? I’m Anne.”
“You’re Anne?” I said, admittedly not careful at all in hiding my surprise. She was so much older than I’d expected her to be, beautiful and generous, but I suppose I’d expected Archie’s fiancée to be more youthful, more like, well, me.
“I am,” she said softly—if she’d noticed my shock, she didn’t let itshow. “My husband, Raymond, is inside with the other gentlemen, they’re all telling stories about their day out on the trails. It’s probably best you meet them when they’ve had a chance to freshen up and dress for dinner.”
“Of course,” I said, stunned. Our hostess was the Anne whom Archie had mentioned on the train, but Anne was already married. I suddenly felt very foolish.
“Remember, anything you need, just ring this”—she reached inside the cabin door and pulled on a string that rang a small bell—“and you’ll be attended to.” She’d barely even finished her sentence before a young man in brown trousers and a white button-down shirt stood at our side.
“Yes, Madam Belmont?” He stood head down, waiting for her request.
