Carla hopped in the air after hearing that Brian’s academic advisor wanted him to work with Trevor and Angelina to transform the lodge into an “eco-arts colony,” along the lines of the mid-twentieth century’s Black Mountain College.
Sensing his ambivalence, though, her hands swung open as she landed. “Brian, if establishing a world-famous arts center doesn’t put you on tenure track, what does?”
His eyes not meeting hers, Brian said, “Ah right, my big chance: a catastrophe waiting to happen.”
“You don’t know that.Stop by the restaurant later and tell me how tomorrow’s meeting at Angelina’s goes. And don’t underestimate yourself, Brian. Trevor knows that without you his magic wears off fast. And even Angelina, who treats him like a spirit guide, recognizes you as the voice of reason.”
Inside Angelina’s log cabin, which was expansive and filled with light, Brian found Trevor, Angelina, Polly, and the architect—a man named Lou Nolan—sitting at a great antique wood table with twelve chairs. Six places were set with a full water glass, a coffee cup, a plate, spoon, napkin, writing tablet and pen.
[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]
Now that Brian had arrived, dressed for his shift at Bed Bath and Beyond, Angelina said, “We’ll wait five more minutes for the professor.”
Polly, dressed in white eyelet, her skimpy, feathered braids covered by a thin striped scarf, jumped up, her chair slamming to the floor. “Pat the Rat? You invited her?”
“Polly,” Angelina rose and stood close behind her small, pale friend. Turning her at the hips, Angelina said, “We need Pat, who Trevor has named ‘Kaya,’ to bring in artists and get grants.”
“You could have warned me.” Polly ran into the kitchen and out the back door. Angelina followed, and Brian stood to watch out the window as the women argued. Trevor stood up, too. “I better intervene.”
But Brian said, no. “Lovers’ quarrel.”
“Right. I guess. But what’s this trick, ‘Pat-the-Rat?’”
The architect—whom Brian hadn’t met before, although he knew the Nolan firm was highly respected—wiggled two fingers in the air. Apparently a request for Trevor to roll him a spliff, because that’s what Trevor did, as Brian explained that Pat the Rat, or Professor Cluny—“Kaya,” Trevor corrected him—had lived here with Angelina. They had been lovers when Brian first started graduate school. It was Kaya, Brian’s professor, who had suggested Brian work as wood chopper, gutter and drain cleaner, whatever—in exchange for rent.
Now Professor Kaya, as Trevor instantly had everyone calling her, was pulling into the parking area. “Nolan, put it out,” Brian said. “My advisor’s here.”
Trevor laughed. “Brother, she’s cool.”
Professor Kaya knocked lightly on Angelina’s screen door and entered the meeting room.
Angelina and Polly had returned to the kitchen, where they bickered in hushed voices. Until Polly spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Since Trevor’s left such a mess, let me stay in a big cabin then, until I can make arrangements elsewhere.”
“Trevor’s carpenter crew is arriving any minute. And they’re taking the unoccupied big cabin. Polly, there are five bedrooms here. You can stay in one of them, angry or not.”
The women’s voices in the kitchen turned to fierce whispers as Lou Nolan passed the spliff to Professor Kaya, who had taken a seat at the table’s head. She sucked on it and wondered where the coffee was.
“I’ll get it,” Brian said, eager to leave the scene, in case Professor, uh, “Kaya” passed the spliff to him. But before he had completely risen from his chair, crockery shattered from the kitchen, as if someone—Polly—had smashed it against the brick wall. Cursing at Angelina, Polly stomped upstairs. Angelina entered the big conference room, holding a large French-press coffee pot. “Polly isn’t feeling well. No reason not to go ahead without her.”
Brian passed the coffee around the table as Professor Kaya approached Angelina and they kissed each other hello.
“Sorry if I caused a rift,” the professor said.
Angelina waved a hand in the air. “She’ll get over it. She always does.”
While Angelina brought in a milk pitcher, a sugar bowl, and a plate of pinwheel cookies, Brian glanced out the window again, in time to see a big red van swing into the gravel driveway and six or seven Rastas jump out.
“Gimme time,” Trevor said, excusing himself. From the porch, the lodge committee watched Trevor greet each man.
So bewildered he wondered if he’d woken up this morning—perhaps he was still dreaming—Brian said, “Excuse me,” and wandered outside toward the Jamaicans.
(Click here to read the next one.)
