"The Doom Statues" - Chapter 12

The main building has four bedrooms, all in a row on the northern side of the second floor. These were originally reserved for the kitchen staff, but in the absence of such, apart from Chef Jen, three fourths of them went unclaimed. Then Grace merrily volunteered to occupy another, while at some point during this fine Saturday morning, Ben and Lois Ado have called, spoken to Harry, and laid their hands upon the largest, which is also the only with its own bathroom.

Kidwell is waltzing about the property as if mildly euphoric, laced with a healthy shake of disorientation, a state which more or less matches their own. As the artists scurry about the property, they find their brains scrambling every bit as much as their bodies. So much is happening, it's a struggle to even process it all. First off, by mutual consensus of the artists polled, it is officially announced just this morning that the retreat is now renamed the much more modern sounding Otherwise, in place of the clunky Central Carolina Artists' Retreat. Not being an artist himself, Kidwell takes some convincing, as he scans their faces endlessly searching for signs of some elaborate prank before finally saying yes.

Tom and Kathy Drucker have taken the old, last cabin on the right, for various reasons. Chief among them is its spaciousness, though they also like the relative seclusion – unlike the newer ones Kidwell has constructed, theirs at least has some landscaping, is set back partially into the forest's embrace – and its proximity to the school building. Although Kidwell has been half jokingly pressuring them to conduct some workshops in that building, at the very least they plan on working and displaying their pieces over there.

As the unofficial quote unquote opening night, Harry has planned an introductory dinner here in the main house. Yet the food is not even near ready, apart from veggie and other finger food trays staged every so often along the massive picnic table. For now everyone is content to mill around clutching their inevitable glasses of wine, talking with slightly raised voices above this 1930s swing music someone is ironically spinning on a vintage turntable. Or Emily hopes it's ironic, anyway. Whatever the case, it does make for a lively atmosphere, if nothing she would ever choose to play on her own.

Though meeting their vague schoolmaster figure, Liam Blodgett, ever so briefly, finding him as endearingly droll as one would expect from a well-dressed old British gent, Emily winds up chatting most of all with this married couple, the Druckers, with whom she’s hitting it off more than expected. They are in their early to mid 40s and not the least bit pretentious, even though both are highly skilled artists and he is apparently, so Emily has been told by others at least a half dozen times, somewhat of a celebrity in this state. He has a full, vaguely shaggy head of shiny black hair, goatee to match, and a checkered old fedora perched at a jaunty angle atop all, while she wears her sandy, rough hewn locks not quite reaching the shoulder. And, though smiling more openly than the much more smirk-inclined Tom, Kathy also has this tendency to stare you down with these wide, somewhat glassy looking blue eyes, every time you speak, as though it takes her a few seconds to register whatever is said. Yet this is by all appearances just her natural state, for she doesn’t come across as messed up, is actually quite witty still even after a few glasses of wine.

When Emily hears in passing that Lennyhas also agreed to a job here, though, it occurs to her how weird it is that her boyfriend hasn’t even so much as texted her yet, and breaks away from this party to playfully give him a hard time about it. Even though, as she’s standing in the library with just a couple other bored or curious souls strolling through the aisles, he insists he did text her. Twice, actually.

“Hmm, that’s strange,” she says, “maybe let’s stick to the phone calls then. Although reception does seem better here already, and Harry has mentioned he’s gonna...oh, wait. Your texts just came through. Hmm.”

“Must’ve been some kind of glitch,” Jeremy suggests.

“Must have,” Emily agrees. “Yeah, so anyway, Harry says he’s gonna throw his weight around and see how the county can improve our signal. But ah...how come you didn’t tell me your freaking parents were coming to work out here! And Lenny!”

Jeremy laughs, in response to the jesting shrillness of her voice, and says, “it was a surprise!”

“A surprise?”

“Well, no actually, that's part of what I was texting you about. You’ll see if you open them, I basically said call me and that was why. Although I really didn’t know right up until they left that they had definitely agreed to this, anyway. Well okay Lenny I guess I could’ve guessed, but not Mom and Dad.”

“Hmm. When are they coming?”

“Eh they’re all riding up together in the morning, from the sounds of it. Should be cool.”

“Yeah. Should be cool,” Emily replies, although to Jeremy’s ears, she sounds less than thrilled. Maybe she’s just tired and going through the motions – he seriously hopes he hasn’t ruined the mystery and adventure of this retreat by lining up jobs for his family.

“But anyway, enough about that. How are things going so far?” he asks.

“Pretty good,” she allows, elaborating with mentions of the people she’s met, the name change to Otherwise, and, in hushed tones, the “somewhat bizarro” dinner Jen is preparing right now, with no assistance other than Harry and Grace as gophers, running things.

After getting off the phone, Emily makes a lap around this building, its three main spaces on the ground floor, and the hall with the restrooms. If her head count is correct, there are 26 people present, a figure that will swell by at least three more tomorrow. That should be all, however, according to Harry. So excluding him, this adds up as 28 residents. Five employees, 22 artists, with Grace occupying some sort of middle ground – though an artist herself as well, she is also performing some work, most notably as tour guide, and therefore has neither paid to attend nor is being paid for her time. And while Emily wishes nothing more than that Jeremy were here, too, at least Denise and Kay are present, which makes for almost the perfect balance of familiarity and strangeness. In fact she’s getting goosebumps just eyeing the dining room right now, taking all of this in. These months could very well represent major defining epochs in each of their lives, and she still can’t believe she’s here. All due to some outrageous fluke, stumbling onto it when driving around lost.

By now, the official helpers and a couple other random ones are clearing off the long, scuffed, but sturdy looking, dark brown wooden table, as piping hot baskets of sliced Italian bread are in turn brought out to replace these appetizer trays. With murmurs that resemble a beehive's buzzing, people begin sliding into seats along both benches, intuiting without being specifically told that dinner is about to begin. Though she’s been networking quite a bit and isn’t exactly shy, Emily's extensive daydreams mean she arrives somewhat late to the table. She grabs a seat second to last on the left hand side of the table, bracketed by some tall black guy and a short Latino looking fellow she hasn't even met yet. But at least Kathy Drucker has wound up across from her. While Emily appraises this scene, Jen appears at the opposite end, standing in a thick white chef’s coat as she clasps her hands together and announces what they’re having.

“Okay, so I will be starting you off with a light salad of mixed greens, cucumber, and tomato in a champagne vinaigrette, followed by a main course of salmon with French lentils and baby carrots, all in a port wine sauce.

“She’s gonna kill us with this weird crap, I can tell already,” Denise jokes under her breath, a few seats up the table. Although not quietly enough, as Liam Blodgett, directly across from her, glances up at Denise with a start and pointedly shakes his head, looking equally horrified at this suggestion.

“Well, we shall certainly see about that,” Liam mutters. “There’ll be beef or better every night, I can assure you. If I have to go back there and fry up a bloody hamburger myself...”

“...portobello and onion soup for any of you vegetarian slash vegans out there,” Jen continues to explain, “or for that matter anyone who just wants to switch. And then of course if you have any allergies or dietary restrictions, just let me know. It would be good to have that on file moving forward anyway, okay? So let's eat.”

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