Every Vow You Break(24)
Jill looked relieved, and Abigail asked her where she was from, not surprised to hear that she was from North Dakota. It wasn’t just the wide eyes and the politeness, but some of the flat accent was still audible. It turned out she’d lived for five years in Los Angeles, trying to break into acting—“It’s so much harder than you’d think”—and then she’d met Alec, a film producer who’d made several action films that had all done well overseas. She mentioned one film in particular, a mountain-climbing thriller that had just debuted on Netflix, but Abigail hadn’t heard of it.
“How are you doing with the no-screens policy?” Abigail asked.
“Oh my God. I was dying for a little while, but I’m better now. I can’t tell you how many times a day I think about checking my phone.”
“I think I’m actually looking forward to it. Not having a phone.”
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s great. Honestly, I feel like I’ve lived more in the last few days than in the last couple of years. I’ve been swimming every day. I painted a picture this morning. Alec and I are … so connected. It’s been amazing.” She spoke rapidly and her voice was pitched unnaturally high, and Abigail wondered if this was how she always spoke, or if she was having less fun on her honeymoon than she claimed.
“How long are you here for?”
“Five more days. I’m thinking of trying sailing even though I’m kind of terrified of deep water. It just seems that if I’m ever going to get over my fear, right now is the time, do you know what I mean?”
“I do,” Abigail said. “You’ve been busy. What’s Alec been doing?”
“He’s been here before, a few times, so he’s just really into relaxing. He likes to hike in the woods, and then he’s been reading. They’re all books he’s thinking about optioning for film, of course, but he claims that it’s not really work.”
Jill looked over Abigail’s shoulder, and Abigail turned her head.
Three men had just entered the lodge and were walking slowly toward the bar.
“A lot more men here than women?”
“I know,” Jill said. “Most of them are tech people from California.
They get sent here for team-building. At first I felt like I was honeymooning at some sort of men’s club, but I guess it’s all right.
Honestly”—she leaned in and whispered—“I was kind of hoping that our honeymoon would involve a sunny beach, but I guess we can do that sort of trip any old time.”
“It’s nice here,” Abigail said. “But it’s not tropical.”
“No, it’s not,” Jill said, and finished her champagne, the raspberry rolling down the inside of the glass and bumping against her teeth. She fished it out with a finger and ate it, just as one of the resort’s employees—a woman this time, but in the same khaki pants and white shirt—came out and stood next to Bruce. He stopped talking to Alec and turned to her, and she said that their table was waiting.
The dining room was immediately adjacent to the hall, about half the size but still enormous, and with floor-to-ceiling windows.
There was still just a little bit of light in the sky, enough so that the pond was visible. She and Bruce were brought to a table for two near one of the windows. The woman who seated them lit their table candle, then presented them each with a single piece of paper with the menu choices. It was a four-course meal, two or three choices per course.
“Good lord,” Abigail said. After studying the menu, she looked around the room. Most of the tables were set for two, but there was a long communal table that ran down the center of the room, and several of the men she’d seen at cocktail hour were now being seated there. The atmosphere was incredibly hushed, and she privately decided that it would be better if music was playing in the background, even though she was sure that was against the aesthetics of the resort.
A waiter arrived, same outfit, but he had a large dark beard, and long hair knotted into a top bun. Abigail ordered the lobster tortellini to start, the pomegranate sorbet, then the seared Maine salmon for the main course, and a blood orange crème br?lée for dessert. After Bruce placed his order the waiter asked if they wanted the sommelier to come out to talk about bottles, or if they’d prefer wine pairings by the glass with each course. Bruce looked at Abigail, who shrugged and said that the wine pairings would be fine. After the waiter left, Abigail said, “What’s the actual employee-to-guest ratio at this place, do you think?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“But it’s got to be something like five-to-one, at least, right?”
“From what I’ve heard, more guests are arriving late tonight.
There are times when there’s no one here, and then there are times when there are all-company retreats, or an entire wedding.”
“So, when no one is here what does the staff do?”
“They’re all on yearly salary, and it doesn’t change depending on the number of guests. Some months are busy, some months they can take off and go traveling. That’s the way Chip described it to me. For all of them it’s a two-year commitment.”
“It makes me feel bad that the sommelier could just be sitting back there desperately hoping that someone will ask for him and he can actually do something.”