"Oh, dear! I'm sorry. Did it disturb you? It only happens when strays from the other inns come over in our territory. We have three nice strays that we take care of: Billy, Spots, and Susie. They were here before we were, so we adopted them. You'll notice a lot of feral cats around the island."
Qwilleran asked, "What do the islanders think about the resort's invasion of their privacy?"
"The old-timers are dead-set against it, but they can use the jobs. My cook is an older woman. Mr. Beadle, who fixed our steps, is a great-grandfather; he's grumpy but willing to work. And the old men who drive the cabs are as grumpy as their horses. The young islanders are glad to get jobs, of course; they're not exactly grumpy, but they sure don't have any personality. They're good workers—when and if they report—but I wish they'd take their commitments more seriously."
"I'd like to talk with some of them about life on the island before the resort opened. Would they cooperate?"
"Well, they're inclined to be shy and suspicious of strangers, but there's one woman who'd have a wider perspective. She grew up here, attended high school on the mainland, and worked in restaurants over there. Now she's back on the island, operating a cafe for tourists— with financial aid from the K Foundation, of course. You probably know about Harriet's Family Cafe."
"The K Foundation never tells me anything about anything," he said. "Where is she located?"
"Up the beach a little way, in one of the old lodges. She serves lunch and dinner—plain food at moderate prices. Most of our guests go there. She also rents out the upper floors as dorm rooms for the summer help at the hotel. It's a neat arrangement. Don Exbridge masterminded this whole project, and he thought of everything."
"What is Harriet's last name?"
"Beadle. The island is full of Beadles. It was her grandfather who fixed our steps. She got him for me when I was desperate. Harriet's a nice person. She's even a volunteer firefighter!"
Before leaving the inn, Qwilleran was introduced to the Bamba brood. Shoo-Shoo, Sheba, Trish, Natasha, and Sherman were the resident cats.
"Didn't you have a Pushkin?" Qwilleran asked.
"Pushkin passed away. Old age. Sherman is pregnant."
Then there were the children. The eldest, Jason, was in first grade on the mainland; a photo of him showed a lively six-year-old with his mother's blond hair. The talkative Mitchell, age four, had his father's dark coloring and serious mien, and he spoke so earnestly that Qwilleran tried his best to understand him.
"He wants to know," his mother translated, "if you'll play dominoes with him."
"I don't know how," Qwilleran said. Actually, he had played dominoes with his mother while growing up as the only child in a single-parent household. The game had been his boyhood bete noir, along with practicing the piano and drying the dishes.
"Mitchell says he'll teach you how to play," Lori said. "And this is Lovey, our youngest. She's very smart, and we think she'll be president of the United States some day ... Lovey, tell Mr. Qwilleran how old you are."
"Two in April," said the tot in a clear voice. She was a beautiful little girl, with a winning smile.
"That was last year, Lovey," her mother corrected her. "Now you're three in April."
"I'll tell you one thing," Qwilleran said, "you'd better change her name, or she'll never get past the New Hampshire primary. The media will have a picnic with a name like Lovey." Then he asked Lori if she had a place to store the slipcovers from Four Pips, as he seemed to be allergic to the dye. "I tried stripping the rooms last night," he said, "and haven't had any bronchitis or asthma today."
"I never knew you had allergies, Qwill! That's too bad! The housekeeper will get them out of your way as soon as possible."
"They're all in the bedroom closet," he said. "Tell her not to let the cats out."
At the bike rack downtown Qwilleran rented an all-terrain bicycle for his first island adventure, a trip to Lighthouse Point. West Beach Road was uphill all the way. As he passed the Domino Inn, guests waved to him from the porch, and Mitchell chased him like a friendly, barking dog. Next came three other B-and-Bs, Harriet's Family Cafe, and a unique service operation called Vacation Helpers. According to the sign in front of the converted lodge, they would "sit with the baby, wash your shirt, bake a birthday cake, sew a button on, cater a picnic, address your postcards, mail your fudge, clean your fish."
Qwilleran stopped to read it and thought it a good idea. The upper floors were apparently dormitories for hotel employees, because a group of them were leaving for work, wearing the skull-and-crossbones. One of them waved to him—the waitress from the night before.
