Abominations Page 21

  Nothing much happened for the rest of the day, so they went home early to change for dinner. They didn't know what to wear, so they asked James, who explained The Rustic, having taken his own wife and kids there several times.

  “It's a fun place. Normal daily clothes are fine, you're both dressed well for it. It has a pioneer feel, the whole place is a giant log cabin, you eat old fashioned food, all on one plate, with huge desserts, so be careful there. They're famous for them though, so you should at least give them a try.”

  They still changed, but into what they thought would be clothes that would fit in with the theme of the restaurant, or at least the average customers. Beth wore a simple cream colored skirt and jacket, with an emerald green blouse, her hair up on top of her head, looking rather pretty. Gwen dug to the back of her chest of clothing and pulled out a soft blue dress that looked old fashioned to her, but that Bethany thought would work well. It didn't show much flesh, but so far none of the clothing here did. A bit of a shame, she thought, since now she had a body actually worth showing off.

  James got them to the Vernors' giant house just in time, technically three minutes early, but not late, as she'd feared they would be. The Vernors met them at the door. Mr. Vernor held her hand in both of his once the door closed behind them.

  “So good to see you. After today, well yesterday really, when things hit the news... we'd both been ready to pack everything and go live under that bridge you mentioned. Then, in an instant, you fixed everything!”

  She shook her head.

  “No, not everything. Not by a long shot. That's part of why we're here.”

  Chapter sixteen

  The large black carriage didn't move as fast as the smaller one she'd grown used to, giving them a long time to talk while they rode to the restaurant. The interior looked nice, polished wood trim, brass edgings, and black leather seats. Even the walls and ceiling were black padded leather. A small glow lamp provided the only light, because shades had been drawn on the windows, so people couldn't look in at them.

  Both the Vernors seemed very impressed with her handling of the press, coming across as honest and playful, which would fit in with her old reputation as a party girl to the public.

  “Now though,” Gwen looked at both of the older people in turn, “we need to solidify that I really know you, which of course, I don't. A really great present, not necessarily something expensive, since I'm working for a living, but something that fits you particularly well, something only family or close friends would know to get you, given or displayed in a special way, that should do it. I mean, we don't want to be over the top about it, because that would look phony, but something... I don't know, what would Katherine have really gotten you?”

  She hoped that this question wasn't too blunt for them, or somehow rubbing salt in the wounds. Beth stiffened a little, meaning that she'd overstepped most likely, but the Vernors just seemed to consider the question.

  Mrs. Vernor spoke first.

  “Katherine? Probably nothing, to tell the truth. I don't really need anything, after all. I mainly work on my charity projects, I don't really collect anything. I do enjoy travel, but given the attack on you, that's going to be out for a while, unless you want to take a trip with me to recuperate? Other than that I don't know what to tell you. I'm happy that you're planning to come, but I don't think the press will catch on to that – that your showing up makes me happy – very easily.”

  Charity work? That could be something, Gwen thought, sitting up she asked the older woman to expand on the idea.

  “What? Oh, just my little projects. It's nothing. I helped organize a soup kitchen for those that have fallen on hard times last month and we try to help those without homes. Women in need of a place to stay, if their domestic arrangements fall through...” Leaning forward she whispered to the girls, “beaten by their husbands.”

  Then she sat back up. Letting her hands rest in her lap for a moment before starting again.

  “That's about it. It takes a surprising amount of time to get something like that set up. Everyone likes the idea, but no one wants to do the actual work. Your Father, Robert I mean, had to actually hire people to work the soup line for the week we had it up. We'll probably have to again during Yule week this year...”

  “Ethyl worked the line herself for days, sometimes alone. I'm very proud of her, but it was a little sad as well, watching her work so hard, no one else willing to lend a hand...” Added Robert.

  All this made Gwen nod and oddly Bethany too. After a few seconds Beth spoke.

  “No one wants to work with those at the bottom. If you're too poor, too strange, or too ugly, you're just supposed to crawl away somewhere and not bother the proper people. Helping those in need comes dangerously close to that sort of person, since all those things often overlap.” Bethany looked at Gwen, her mind having already put together what she'd been thinking of.

  “Would, I don't know if it would float with society types, but would my coming to help you run the soup line be a good present? Maybe with some small token or trinket to help you remember my promise of help later?” Asked Gwen.

  Both of the older peoples' eyes lit up suddenly.

  “That... would be perfect, dear! Oh...” Ethyl blotted at her face with a soft looking handkerchief.

  Mr. Vernor sat up straighter and nodded at her. He tugged at the hem of his jacket a bit and smiled hugely, perhaps the most genuine smile she'd seen on the man so far.

  “That would do it, especially if you're willing to back it up later... Most people will have forgotten by then, so even the promise would be good enough. Yes, I think I even have an idea for the trinket, if you trust me to have it wrapped for you? Yes... this will do nicely.”

  They all chatted for a bit, until the lorrie pulled over into a gravel driveway, not a parking lot she saw, but an actual drive, like a house would have, circular though, so that you wouldn't have to back up to get out, since these vehicles didn't have a reverse function at all, as she'd discovered from James a few days back.

  The outside of the restaurant looked just as rustic as promised by the sign, a genuine – or nearly genuine, being that it clearly sat on a cement foundation, not dirt – log cabin, one larger than most modern homes in her own world would have been, about four times as large as the little house she'd lived in for the last six years. It hit her then that she hadn't seen a lot of regular homes here yet. Apartments and palaces, well, one palace and one apartment, but no places a real family would live.

  They were met at the door by a hostess, an older woman dressed like someone from little house on the prairie, except for the jewelry she wore around her neck and the large, very obvious ring on her finger signifying she was, if not married, at least taken. This was one of the first rings Gwen had seen on anyone like that, so maybe it meant something else here.

  She led them to a large table, big enough for eight, that had hard wooden benches rather than chairs. The table itself seemed to be made out of split logs, flattened on top into a serviceable table. It reminded Gwen a bit of an old fashioned picnic table she'd seen at a park once as a child. Her parents had taken her as a special treat. The day had been ruined for her when some other children ran away from her crying, not understanding that she'd just wanted to play with them. She didn't blame the kids now, but it had been hard for her six-year-old self to understand.

  They were left with actual menus instead of being told what would be available for each course, something that not even the tiny cafe near the Constabulary had done. This, Gwen figured, must be part of the charm of the place. Part of its theme.

  “I recommend the steak and potatoes or the hamburg sandwiches, they have a selection of them. Not, well, not very ladylike food. But I like them...” Mr. Vernor tried not to smile as his wife made a face at the idea.

  “I always have the sausage plate. It's... spicy, but if you can handle that, it's good. As a plus you can eat it with a knife and fork...” Her voice had gone slightly cold and
her body posture had straightened a bit, but after about ten seconds she smiled suddenly and winked at Gwen.

  “The hamburg sandwiches are good, I have him smuggle some home for me on occasion, but don't tell anyone.” This came across as a soft whisper, meant only for her, Gwen laughed a bit, covering her mouth with her hand, as she'd seen other women doing here.

  This, even at a small theme restaurant that no one would have expected them to go to – she hoped – would still have to be part of her “Katherine” performance. She just hoped the Vernors would help her out, steering her toward what their real daughter would have actually done. Maybe that sausage plate hint had been their help. If nothing else came she'd just order that and hope it looked alright.

  “Oh, I don't know, Ethyl,” Mr. Vernor glanced at the two other women with a mischievous grin. “The last time we came Katherine seemed to enjoy what I'd picked for her well enough...”

  They both laughed, so she joined in, saying “Oh, Father!”

  Then she hinted that he should tell the story to Bethany, mainly so that she'd be able to know what had been so funny.

  The older man, who turned out to be a pretty good storyteller, told the tale as if it were some kind of epic. How they'd come to the place at his insistence and he'd ordered his daughter a hamburg sandwich, not realizing that the peppers, ones from the south called jalapeños, were as spicy as they turned out to be. The girl had sputtered and moaned comically, but managed to eat the whole thing, vowing that no mere sandwich would defeat her.

  When their waitress arrived, a different woman, younger looking, but otherwise dressed a lot like the hostess had been without the jewelry, Gwen surprised them all by asking Mr. Vernor to order the same thing for her again. Mrs. Vernor blanched a bit, probably worried that the food would be too much and that she'd cause a scene. Gwen just smiled at her and winked.

  They made small talk until the plates of food came, looking huge compared to the tiny portions served everywhere else, but still way smaller than what she'd have gotten at any fast food place back home, at least if the pictures on the television had been accurate. She'd never eaten at one herself and only a few times at real restaurants, mainly as a child. She looked at it carefully, seeing that it came with a small salad and fried potato disks rather than french-fries. She picked it up carefully and took a small, delicate bite.

  The others waited for a reaction from her, as she put it down and chewed carefully, since everyone else seemed to do that all the time here.

  “It's... good. Perhaps I just didn't get a bite of the peppers yet?”

  They all started eating then, Bethany gently bumping her leg under the table with her own for some reason. It seemed to indicate something, but she didn't know what, so she wiped her mouth carefully, in case she had something on her face, looking at the woman. A casual wave of her fork, with a bit of sausage on it seemed to mean Gwen should look over to the left.

  A large party sat there, watching them eat without even trying to hide what they did. Two of the six people she recognized from the press conference earlier, especially the blond woman that now wore a simple brown dress and jacket, with a small funny looking hat on her head, it made her look vaguely Asian, though her face looked as Caucasian as Gwen's.

  She paused for a second, because her face, in her real body, hadn't looked Caucasian much at all, being half Latino, but Katherine looked to be pure white and so did this woman. Since the woman caught her looking, Gwen waved a bit, then went back to eating, feeling self-conscious about it, knowing that everyone at the other table would be watching. It was just so awkward when people watched her chew food. For decades she'd basically refused to let anyone see her eat at all.

  “Well... it seems we have... friends here,” she said, trying to smile.

  Mr. Vernor looked over and nodded at a few of the men she didn't recognize, who nodded back.

  “Financials reporters, most of them. The woman there is Deborah Winslow from SimStyl magazine... They... try to present famous people as enjoying the company of those of the same sex... I don't recognize the others, probably from rags. You know, bird-cage liners?” He'd kept his voice low, looking like he was about to get angry. “To follow us here like this. I've a mind to have them thrown out.”

  Gwen shook her head at the man slightly and grinned, trying to convey that they could use this, if they worked it right. Not that she knew how to do that, of course, but she could see how it could be done in theory. Maybe.

  They all kept eating carefully, the hamburger sat in her stomach like lead, even though it had actually been very good. What these people thought of as spicy barely touched on her idea of it. Even the Jalapeños were mild compared to what she'd have dumped all over a plate of nachos herself at home less than a month ago. They were tasty, compared to the fairly bland foods that had been served to her so far at least.

  She asked Mr. Vernor to wave down the waitress when he got a chance, he saw the girl a few minutes later and called her over, starting to ask for the check, Gwen raised her hand a bit, interrupting him without speaking.

  “...Or perhaps we don't need the bill just yet? Dear, you wanted to add something?” The dapper man looked at her directly.

  “Yes... thank you.” She turned to the waitress and leaned closer to the girl, whispering, though everyone with her could hear.

  “Could you have a serving of your best dessert delivered to each of the people at that table for me please? Really go all out on it. Then if you'd bring me the bill. That part's important, the whole bill for this, the desserts and the meal here, needs to come to me directly... Thank you.”

  The waitress dimpled at her and spun to make it happen without asking any questions.

  “Dear, I'm more than happy to pay.” Frowning, the older man had leaned over to whisper this to her.

  “I know, and thank you. This is part of the plan. Just make sure to act proud of me when you hear it, even if it seems odd, OK?”

  Both the Vernors nodded, looking concerned. Bethany pushed into her shoulder a little bit with her own, trying to get her attention.

  “Could you induce a telepathic state. I want to eavesdrop on them for a few minutes, to see if any of them know who leaked things about you earlier...”

  Gwen scooted over, whispering in her friend's ear for a few seconds, noticing that the slightly older looking blond female reporter perked up when she saw this. Gwen smiled at her and waved with her finger tips a bit again, getting even more attention from the lady.

  None of the men at the table seemed to notice this interplay at all for some reason. Did they figure that nothing young women did would be all that important, or were they just being really polite and professional, not ogling the girls?

  A few minutes later several trays with what looked like elaborate dishes of ice cream and pieces of cake came out, being carried by their waitress and several other people, including one man that seemed to be dressed as a chef, complete with funny white hat, that looked incredibly out of place for the theme. They off-loaded the desserts carefully, making sure each reporter got one, on the way back, the chef brought over his tray, which held one for each of the people at her table as well.

  “Sir, ma'am... ladies. Please enjoy these, compliments of the house!” Waving to them with a small flourish, the chef bowed and left immediately, looking a bit proud of himself. When she took a small bite she understood why. The dessert had to be the best thing she'd had so far in this world. What looked like cake was actually halfway between that and pie, apples in a thickened sauce that allowed it to keep its shape. It was great, but not something she'd ever had before, so she didn't even know what to call it. The ice cream was vanilla, but had definitely been made by a professional, probably the chef himself. The other food had been good, but this dish had been made to impress, she realized. It worked on her at least.

  After a few minutes, several of the reporters came over to ask questions, having taken the gift, and the fact that they hadn't run away while the repo
rters were being served, as a sign. One of them had something that looked like a camera and asked if he could take a few pictures. They all smiled at him, trying their best to look happy about it while he worked. After six shots though, a laughing Mr. Vernor called a stop to it.

  “Alright, alright, that should do it for now!” He waved the man away, still smiling in case the fellow tried to snap a last shot as he backed off, Gwen realized. She made a point to remember that just in case this happened again sometime.

  “So, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company then?” He asked the reporters, all of whom had gathered round.

  The questions started, Beth still smiling, as she'd been instructed to, absorbing what everyone thought as Gwen, this time with help from the Vernors, fielded the second round of questions for the day.

  “Mr. Vernor, this seems an unlikely place for you to take your family for dinner, I mean, it's not exactly Charleston House, is it? You haven't fallen on hard times have you?” This came from a man that looked about forty, and had light brown, very thin, hair. He smiled when he asked the question and didn't sound too serious.