A Rock and Family Vacation
[22]
It was morning. Lacy was up before her but seemingly only by a few minutes. They went through the motions without much of a greeting let alone a chat. After they showered, mom made sure that everything about their hair was brushed and tidy while restoring Lacy’s bun and asking if Blair wanted a ponytail, which she casually accepted.
Lacy despised the little splash of perfume she got and abhorred the roll-on deodorant for its oppressive, flowery fragrance. But, true to her promises, she did everything without a word of complaint. Despite how much progress she made from clinging to a safety blanket bathrobe to a nervous swimsuit to finally walking around in a dress, Lacy appeared immensely stressed out about the polo and shorts. She escaped her pubescent figure only by shutting her eyes. Not even the comfort of the bra could settle her.
Blair did her best, especially by holding her hand, but Lacy slipped out of it with her fingers covered in sweat. Clare had a ribbon on her head and appeared close to her normal self despite the visible tension in her gaze. Before she forgot, Blair retrieved the mystery rock from her closet. It still hadn’t done anything remarkable or unusual since the peculiar but explainable shifting of the bag. She treated it like handling a live bomb triggered by getting close to anyone else.
Blair took the corner as far away as possible from their dad in the driver’s seat. She gathered that the rock didn’t have enough influence to connect atom to atom across space. That didn’t necessarily rule out their father handling the bag might still be a danger, but Blair felt more confident that directly touching the rock was its modus operandi.
Brooke made sure to pack water, hats, and assorted things they might need if they were outside or on one of the golf courses. She also included her mace and taser even though she knew it was practically impossible to use against one of the old perverts. It just made her feel better to know it was within reach.
As they turned around in the spacious driveway and prepared to take the access road back to the main one, Brooke thought for a moment that she saw a figure somewhere in the distance wearing those distinct green uniforms. It just turned out to be a tall bush. She sighed and rubbed her forehead as they sped across the gravel. Eliot had a brief encounter of his own with a lanky, spindly figure he nearly mistook for the creepy man at the table. Once again, it was just a plant with an unusual shape.
However, it was only Blair who noticed two men in a white van wearing green uniforms, just like her father described yesterday, and a desperately tall figure in a disheveled business suit lingering far behind them in an alleyway. She thought about pointing them out, but they didn’t seem to be looking at their car and Blair figured her parents didn’t need the added stress. Before they drove away, she tilted up her phone and took a couple of shots as proof they were there and to catch the van’s license plate.
Broad Street was richly decorated with sycamore and birch trees flanking the broad sidewalks and providing plenty of shade. A variety of outdoor plazas, surf shops, and craft breweries, along with an eye-opening lingerie store front flanked the narrow two-lane road dense with ambling cars. Old theaters and dusty bookstores caught their eyes, along with a delightful, tiny wind toy shop with fluttering fake fish clustered in breeze-teased schools. Banks, barbers, and lounges filled out the rest of what they could see as the hill took them to a residential section.
After several blocks, it was easy to find the painted stone sign for the Arcadian Fellows Country Club. A winding, smooth road looped to the right and then to the left to finally arrive. Large black gates covered the front with a cartoon top-hatted figure logo. Valet parking was available. All Brooke needed to do was give her father’s name and the man out front rushed over and help them. Eliot casually tipped him, and he accepted it without complaint.
The façade of the main building looked like an overzealous imitation of Greco-Roman style. Looming, ivory columns with garish colonnades earned a scowl of contempt from Lacy. Blair squinted her eyes at the blazing reflections. Clare remarked simply, “This place is so weird. I hope brunch is good.”
Brooke checked that Blair secured the rock in the inconspicuous bag. He shrugged. None of them knew what secured or safe meant for the thing.
The lobby appeared suitably over the top with ornate glass chandeliers and gold inlays. Several shops announced themselves to the left while the restaurant, dining hall, and social room were to the right. Men’s and women’s lockers were also split, and the bar was straight ahead. Signs directed them to the brunch, which adjoined the dining hall and restaurant.
A mustachioed host greeted them at the door and took their information. At the mention of the Muller name, he softly clapped his hands and smiled. ”Why yes, the Shore family. Mr. Muller called ahead to let us know that we should be expecting you. I believe he sent you documents about your visit today. From what he told me, y’all are to represent him officially for his close personal friends, business associates, and acquaintances who are also friends of ours. Am I correct?”
Brooke did her best to tighten her lips to hide the grinding of her teeth before she responded, “Yes. My father informed us ahead of time.”
The man nodded and crooked a smile. “Well, that’s quite splendid. Now I’m not saying y’all are going to be facing any hardship. These gentlemen are kindly. Quite kindly. They’re just here to be social and have a relaxing day. Treat them as you would your grandparents. Oh… let me check something a moment…”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Now, Brooke had to tell herself that just because she had certain encounters with perverted men at the country club where she grew up, didn’t mean that these men were cut from the same cloth. It was just extremely unlikely with the kind of people that her father liked to keep company with. And every freaking coy word out of this scumbag‘s hairy face made her want to not only punch him but also shove his hand down into Blair‘s bag. She managed a long, careful breath to prevent her emotional spot fire from bursting into an inferno.
Looking around, she felt shaded terror along with quiet relief that Clare had no clue about this place. Lacy was suitably skeptical and annoyed by everything around her, especially the fact that she had to wear out in the open. Blair showed a reflection of Brooke’s own trepidation and irritation. She only had her suspicion, but she feared Blair encountered something like this when he was young.
As yet an only child, her father invited Blair to an event like this, also out of obligation. She remembered plenty from her childhood, even though she preferred to forget and had convinced herself there was no way her father would lead his grandchildren into that. But there were several hours when she was away from her son. He said that he only talked to a strange old man about the oddest things, but Brooke knew the signs. The cruel bastard did it again, all to get in good with a bunch of fucking perverts with a lot of money to burn in his business.
The temptation to cause a scene and storm out rose by the minute as the host finished consulting his notes and remarked, “Pardon me, but I was informed your party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Shore and their three sons with quite distinct appellations, if you’ll pardon my terminology. A Mr. Blair Shore, Mr. Lacy Shore, and Mr. Clare Shore. Am I incorrect?”
This brought a smile to Brooke’s face as much as it flustered their host. “You have their names correct. These are my children and I do hope they’re welcome at this country club.”
The gentleman cleared his throat and quickly dabbed a handkerchief on his forehead. “Of course, of course! I’m just confused and overwhelmed and immensely apologetic that I made such a grievous error. Young ladies, it is my privilege to welcome you to the club and my distinct, sincere apologies to have, as they say, gendered you incorrectly. Although I am sadly at a loss for a more elegant way to express how contrite I am at this error. As a courtesy, it would be my honor to offer you all vouchers for any snack or drink item from the commissary during your stay.”
He passed out some papers to each of them. Clare delighted as she read all the different foods she could redeem this for. Lacy wore a bitter pout along with a faint blush but gladly took the paper from him. Blair glanced over at their mom and wiggled the bag with the stone while raising her eyebrows. Brooke gave a subtle shake of her head and said nothing.
Clearing his throat, the host continued, “This could throw quite a wrench in things. By this I mean we endeavor to be prepared for the nuanced needs and qualities of all our guests. But we shall do our best to adapt. Please follow me and we should be opening up brunch at any moment. Feel free to indulge your heart’s content and then we can continue with the rest of the agenda your grandfather has laid out.” Brooke desperately wanted to tell him to go stuff the agenda up his ass, but she again held her thoughts back.
They were quite literally some of the first people to enter followed by a gradual flow through the other doorway. Chefs in aprons and white hats stood before a long table decked out in food warmers and ice trays. Brooke noticed the posted price for the buffet. Even the kids’ tier surpassed the more expensive meals they’d ever had. Fortunately, the host assured them that their grandfather would be covering the bill. Brooke appreciated that, but also understood the cost.
Clare went for the made-to-order custom omelets while her father instead tried the make-your-own waffles. Blair had to wait a little while for crêpes with the same perk while Brooke decided on the eggs benedict and grabbed an assortment of bagels, fresh fruit, and yogurt mixed with granola. She would come back later for the salad and shrimp and filled a glass of fresh orange juice even while she eyeballed the mimosas.
Brunch was a strikingly calm affair. Everyone smiled, ate, and lightly chatted, mostly about food, a little bit about how swanky and fancy this place was, and debating what they should get with their voucher. None of the pressing matters of the day or the last twenty-four hours came up. Sure, Brooke could see Lacy‘s visible discomfort about her clothes when she wasn’t stuffing eggs in her mouth. Blair seemed to scrutinize the entire room, as though she were resolving who were the potential culprits for some crime that hadn’t yet been committed. And Clare was quietly dazzled by the choice and the multitude of the food. She had a tall glass of chocolate milk.
They each went back for seconds, which delayed the inevitable. But, eventually, the inevitable arrived. Their host checked in on them and made sure they had had a pleasant meal. Then he asked if he might lead the young ladies over to the social room to fulfill a meet and greet with their grandfather’s business associates. Brooke just wanted to scream a terse “NO” while she paid the damn bill without any obligation to her fucked up father. With only a vague sense of why they had to go and who they had to talk to, the girls slowly got up from their seats.
Before leading them away to places and people unknown, the host quickly raised the finger and spun around to address their mother, “Pardon me again, but I was told that Mr. Vincent Muller will be visiting in just a few hours. I quite look forward to meeting him and resolving these niggling little issues that I’m sure he can fix...”