Jonathan woke early. Jennifer was still sleeping peacefully, so he decided to shower and change. He had hoped to do some sight-seeing today, since the weather was clear and the foliage was at its peak. Jennifer was finally coming around when Jonathan sat on the end of the bed to lace up his boots. "Well, don’t you look rugged?" she said, teasingly. He stood up and puffed out his flannel-clad chest. "I’m ready for a New England vacation! I thought maybe we could take a scenic drive, stop for a pancake breakfast, do a little hiking...what do you think?" Jennifer propped her pillows against the headboard and crossed her arms behind her head. "Hmmm, that sounds nice. Do you know where we’re going? I mean, these New Hampshire backroads are pretty secluded." Jonathan smiled. "The more secluded, the better." The phone rang. Jennifer gave Jonathan a look of warning. "Oh, good morning, Katherine," Jonathan answered. Jennifer raised her eyebrows, curious as to why Katherine was calling. "OK, sure...we’d love to. Thanks...good-bye," Jonathan said, hanging up the phone. He turned to face his wife, who was waiting for an explanation. "Jonathan, you didn’t." "I did," he admitted. "Jonathan! How could you?! I thought we were going to go sight-seeing today,"
Jennifer pouted. "What about the pancake breakfast?" Seeing that she was hurt, Jonathan quickly explained. "Not today, darling. Today is for you and me. Katherine invited us to go hiking on Monday," he said, coming closer to kiss her pouting lip. "Oh...well, at least we have today. Do we really have to spend Monday with her?" "I thought you might be interested in this hiking trip. Katherine said she thought you’d like to visit Gloria Cromwell’s grave, since you have such an interest. Apparently, she’s buried at a small site on the mountainside, not far from where her body was discovered, " he said. Jennifer’s face brightened. "Oh, Jonathan, that sounds great!" "You’re the only one I know who would get excited at the prospects of visiting a gravesite," he said, glad to see her in a good mood.
As Jonathan and Jennifer came down through the lobby, the concierge called out Jonathan’s name. Puzzled, the Harts turned and approached the front desk.
"Mr. Hart, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have an important phone call from the state police. They are trying to locate Mr. Stinson. I don’t seem to be able to find him. There’s no answer in his room. Would you mind taking the call?" the concierge said, in hushed tones.
Jonathan glanced at Jennifer, his eyes telling her that it couldn’t be good news.
Jennifer took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a bit queasy. "Yes, of course I will. Is there somewhere I can take it privately?" The concierge ushered them into an adjacent room and put the call through to them.
"Hello. This is Jonathan Hart. I’m a friend of George Stinson’s. Can I be of some help?" Jonathan said, while Jennifer held his hand.
The police officer cleared his throat. "Yes, Mr. Hart. I’m trying to reach George Stinson. Do you know where we can find him?"
"Well, he is staying here at the hotel. We saw him last night. Maybe he’s sleeping in. Did you speak with his wife?" Jonathan asked.
"Well...it’s about his wife. There’s been an accident. We need to reach Mr. Stinson."
Jonathan squeezed Jennifer’s hand. "Is Carol all right? I’m a friend. I’ll find George."
"Mrs. Stinson was involved in a head-on collision last night. She’s in serious condition at Memorial Hospital. I’ll give you the station’s phone number. Will you call here if you locate Mr. Stinson?" the officer said.
"I’ll find him and bring him to Memorial Hospital. I’ll call you from there...thank you, officer." Jonathan hung up and looked at Jennifer. She knew something was terribly wrong.
The Harts ran to the Stinson’s room and banged on the door. They heard some stirring.
"George! Open up! It’s Jonathan!" After some shuffling, George finally opened the door. He was still wearing the suit he was wearing from last night. His hair was a mess and his face looked ten years older. He squinted his eyes and peered at Jonathan.
"What?" he said, trying to clear his gruff voice.
"George, I know you’re in rough shape right now, but you need to know that Carol is in the hospital. She’s been in a car accident and is in serious condition. The hospital is looking for you," Jonathan said sternly. He could not hide his scorn for George’s condition.
George shook his head as if he weren’t hearing Jonathan correctly. "What do you mean?" he said, looking around the hotel room as if he had misplaced his wife.
Jonathan put his arms on George’s shoulders. "Go clean yourself up in the bathroom, and then let’s get down to the hospital," he said, dropping his resentment for the moment. He knew that there was no time to waste.
Memorial Hospital was a small thirty-bed facility a few miles from the Wallingford Hotel. Marjorie Wallace had been a nurse at Memorial for thirty years, and she had seen many kinds of accidents like these. It was usually someone from out-of-town, and the family would inevitably come from some swanky place in upstate New York, and spend most of the time belittling the hospital staff. This one will be worse, thought Marjorie. Carol Stinson was from Los Angeles, and Marjorie was sure that her family would quickly denounce the quality of care that "quaint, little Memorial" could offer. She waited for Dr. Pennacook to finish his phone call before they were to meet with Mr. Stinson.
Joel Pennacook was a young neurologist, recently employed at Memorial. He had hungered for a country life - away from the big city trauma centers and the politics of medicine. Moving to New Hampshire had proven to be the best decision he had ever made. Even though most of the cases he saw were elderly stroke victims, occasionally he was involved in a complicated head trauma that summoned his best skills. Carol Stinson was one such case. He was eager to speak with her husband, even though Marjorie had warned him that the Stinsons were not locals. She told him to expect that the family would want the patient transferred to Boston - probably Mass General. One thing was for sure:
Carol Stinson was not in any condition to be transported at the moment.
"Hello...I’m Dr. Pennacook," he said, upon entering the private family waiting room. He was surprised to find not only Mr. Stinson, but also a very good-looking couple who were obviously dressed for a New England trek through the mountains.
George stood up and shook his hand. The Harts stood too.
"Hi...uh, this is Jonathan and Jennifer Hart," George said to Joel and Marjorie, unable to make eye contact. George never felt like this in his life. Aside from the splitting headache and searing pain in his gut, he was painfully aware that he might lose his wife.
The scary part was that he had no memory of last night and could not figure out how or why Carol had left the hotel. For the first time in a very long time, he felt deeply ashamed of the situation that he was in. He appreciated the fact that Jonathan and Jennifer had come to the hospital with him. It was comforting to know that he could count on Jonathan to make any sound decisions - decisions he was not sure that he could make on his own.
"I’m not sure what you’ve been told about the accident, Mr. Stinson, but right now your wife is in intensive care. She was brought here this morning at around 2:00 a.m. after a passing motorist found her vehicle off the side of the road. Apparently, she had a moose collision," the doctor told them.
"A moose collision?!" the Harts exclaimed. George looked puzzled.
Joel smiled weakly. "I know that may sound strange to you, but actually it happens with some frequency up here. Moose are huge animals and hard to see when they’re crossing the road in the dark. I’m sure your wife didn’t even know what she hit."
George cleared his throat. "What’s the extent of her injuries?" he said quietly.
Jonathan thought to himself that it was the first time he had ever heard George speak so quietly.
"Well, she’s had a serious head trauma. She hit the windshield pretty hard. We’ve put a shunt in her head - that’s a drain - to get rid of the fluid. That’s the most critical situation right now, controlling the swelling in her brain. She’s also got a broken collarbone, some broken ribs, and a lot of cuts and bruises."
"Is she awake? Is she in pain?" George asked, trying to sort it all out.
"No. She’s in a coma... I’ll be totally honest with you. We are doing everything possible, but I can’t guarantee that she’ll make it. The next 24 to 48 hours are critical. Marjorie," Joel said, gesturing to his favorite nurse at Memorial, " is the nurse assigned to her. We’ll watch her and keep you informed every step of the way."
George put his head in his hands during the silence that followed. Jonathan and Jennifer held hands. Marjorie waited for the request to transfer Carol.
Instead, Jonathan stood up and offered his hand to Dr. Pennacook. "Thank you, doctor...and Ms. Wallace. We appreciate the care you’re giving Carol. We know she’s in good hands...I think maybe George would like to see his wife now. Jennifer and I will get some coffee and come back in a little while. Afterwards, we’ll give you our number at the hotel should you need to reach us," Jonathan said.
Joel and Marjorie smiled appreciatively. Marjorie, in particular, was pleasantly surprised with Jonathan Hart’s refreshing attitude. They escorted George into the intensive care unit, as the Harts made their way to the cafeteria.
Later that morning, Jonathan and Jennifer left Memorial Hospital. "Do you think we should have left George?" Jennifer asked, as Jonathan opened the door to the Rover for her.
"Yes. I think he needs some time alone to do some soul-searching...plus, there’s nothing anyone can do except wait," Jonathan said turning the ignition. "So, what should we do for the rest of the day? We didn’t get off to a very good start, did we?"
Jennifer nodded. "How about that pancake breakfast? I’m starving." Jonathan grinned widely. "I thought you’d never ask!"
At 3:00 p.m., Katherine phoned the Hart’s room. She had heard about Carol Stinson’s accident and wanted to offer her sympathy. It had certainly been an eventful weekend here at the hotel, she thought. She wanted to speak with Jonathan about a number of things, not the least of which was his decision about investing in the Wallingford.
When the phone rang, Jonathan and Jennifer gave each other a worried look.
Jennifer answered. "Hello?"
"Oh...Jennifer? This is Katherine Belleveau...Is Jonathan available?"
Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief and covered the receiver. "It’s Katherine, and I believe she wants to talk with only you," she said in a mocking whisper, handing the phone to Jonathan.
"Hello, Katherine," Jonathan said, playfully holding Jennifer’s waist so that she couldn’t move.
"Hello, Jonathan. I was calling, first and foremost, to say how sorry I am to hear about Carol Stinson’s accident. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance. Memorial Hospital is a good facility, but if you want to fly in any of your own physicians, I can certainly make the arrangements," Katherine said smoothly.
"Well, that’s very kind of you, but I don’t think that’s necessary at this point. We just have to wait until she’s out of the woods, if you’ll excuse the pun," Jonathan said, sliding his hand up Jennifer’s flannel shirt. Jennifer gave Jonathan a scolding look, as she pulled his hand away. "That’s awful!" she whispered.
Katherine laughed. "Yes...of course. Another thing I had to let you know. It’s a very strange thing, but I can’t seem to find the items you gave me last night - the letter-opener and ring. I know I put the pouch in my desk drawer, but it’s missing. I think someone may have stolen it, but I can’t imagine who might do such a thing!"
Jonathan looked at Jennifer. "Well, that is odd...I can’t imagine that they’d have any value to anyone. Did anyone know that you had them?" Jennifer leaned closer, watching Jonathan’s expression.
"Well, I had a staff meeting early this morning, and I did mention the items you found. I told everyone we’d be displaying them in the lobby after the antiques appraisal. So, yes, people did know about them, although I didn’t tell them they were in my drawer. I asked my cleaning lady, and she said she didn’t see them...I trust her. It’s all very strange. I’ll keep looking, but I thought you should know," Katherine added.
"All right. Thanks for letting us know," Jonathan said, his hands once again making their way up Jennifer’s shirt. She stopped him again, shaking her head. He frowned.
"Oh, Jonathan, are we still on for our hike tomorrow? I am an excellent guide. I think you’ll enjoy a hike through the trails around here," Katherine quickly added.
"Yes, as long as nothing’s happened with Carol. I don’t see why not. Jennifer is looking forward to finding Gloria Cromwell’s gravesite...and hearing more about her mysterious murder. My wife likes a good murder-mystery story," he chuckled.
"Good...I’m glad. I’ll see you both in the lobby tomorrow at noon then," she said smiling and hanging up.
Jonathan turned to Jennifer. "The letter-opener and ring were stolen from Katherine’s desk."
Jennifer’s mouth dropped. "You’re kidding. Something fishy’s going on around here. Why would anyone steal those items? And who knew about them anyway?"
"Well, apparently, she told her staff about them at a meeting this morning...but, you’re right, who would want them?" he said, backing her down onto the bed.
Jennifer bit her lip. "I wonder if one of the hotel employees knows something about Gloria Cromwell and wanted those items," she thought aloud. Jennifer gazed off deep in thought, unaware that Jonathan was unbuttoning her shirt.
"Hey," she giggled suddenly. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"I’m performing a body search for the missing items," he said with a boyish grin.
Jonathan’s hands found their way down to her jeans and began to unzip, when there was a sharp knock at the door. Jonathan groaned. Jennifer leaped up and fastened the buttons on her shirt.
Jonathan opened the door, surprised to find no one there, but an envelope lying at his feet. He picked it up and looked down the empty hallway. Jennifer leaned over his shoulder as he opened the envelope. Inside was a photo - an old photo of a woman with a book in her hand. She was smiling at a man, whose face was turned away from the camera. Jonathan turned the photo over, and Jennifer gasped. In faded handwriting, it read: Gloria, summer of 1944.
