“We’re all A.P.E.S.”
“What was that?”
“We’re all card-carrying members of the Animal Parity Endowment Society.”
“I tend to vote Republican myself.” That’s not really true. I vote all over the board, but it seemed like the right thing to say to even the score.
He chuckled. “What I mean is that we all belong to an organization that concerns itself with the rights of animals.”
“What kind of animals?” Dogs like Susannah’s have no rights.
“Well,” he drawled, “in this case, deer.”
I undoubtedly stared at him. I was in shock. Finally, after a few tries, I found my voice. “You’re kidding! You mean you’re not here to hunt deer?” I fumbled around in my files. Sure enough, Billy Dee and all the others he’d just mentioned had stated on their applications that they wanted to be here for the opening of deer season. “But it says—”
“Does it say why we want to be here?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said again. I was in no mood for jokes, but this had better be one just the same.
His face now lacked joviality, which made him look even more like a redneck, although he was acting less like one. “No, ma’am, I’m deadly serious. We’re here to stop the deer hunt.”
I was having trouble believing what I was hearing. “Whose deer hunt? Those are state game lands out there. Tomorrow morning they’ll be swarming with hunters. You can’t possibly stop them all.”
Billy Dee rubbed his hands together briskly. “Ma’am, we don’t intend to stop them all. Just the Congressman and his party.”
I started to feel light-headed. What with Susannah and Freni to deal with on a daily basis, I had all the conflict I cared to handle. I was also feeling duped, an emotion which in me inevitably leads to anger. I clutched the edge of the counter with both hands, closed my eyes, and slowly counted to ten. First in English, then in German. Then I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.
Billy Dee Grizzle was still there. To his credit, he looked concerned. “You all right, ma’am?”
“I’m as fine as frog hair,” I snapped. “You, Mr. Grizzle, seem like a fair-enough guy. Why couldn’t you have been upfront?” Of course I knew the answer, but what difference does that make?
Billy Dee might have been just a little embarrassed to defend his reprehensible actions, because he looked away when he answered. “Ma’am, sometimes the end does justify the means.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through my nose. Living with Susannah had taught me how to control hyperventilation. To a point. “Not if the end involves my ruination, it doesn’t.”
He looked back at me. If Billy Dee’s green eyes were the window to his soul, he had a far kinder soul than he let on. “Ma’am, we won’t be doing any of our protesting at your place. I can promise you that. It’s gotta be done out where the action is. We can’t protest what they’re about to do, or have already done. We gotta protest them actually doing it. Otherwise it don’t count.”
“That’s a relief,” I said with perhaps a trace of sarcasm. “I suppose that after you protest you’ll all gather back here for an evening of parlor games?”
Billy Dee flashed another one of his big, white-toothed smiles. “Sounds like fun, ma’am. Especially if you’d care to join us. Seriously, ma’am, we won’t be causing you no trouble. I’ll keep an eye on things myself.”
“The only trouble, Mr. Grizzle, is that there is someone else trying to keep an eye on things around here. An interested third party, you might say. A reporter.”
Billy Dee’s smile seemed to shrink just a little. “A reporter? Are you sure? For which paper?”
“Does it really matter?” I asked, suddenly feeling very weary. When even one reporter latches on to something, it’s like inviting the whole world in for tea. Of course, this had been beneficial to me when that one reporter wrote that rave review of the inn. But I could well imagine what could happen if Miss Brown got caught up in the middle of the fracas that seemed inevitable between these two factions.
“Of course it matters, ma’am,” said Billy Dee emphatically. “I know a lot of reporters, and maybe I’ll be able to talk some sense into this one. You know, a little man-to-man talk.” He either winked or had an erratic tic.
“I doubt whether Miss Brown is a Candidate for a man-to-man talk.”
“Miss Brown? Which paper did you say she was with?”
“I didn’t. I mean, I’m not exactly sure.” Already I’d done too much blabbing about one of the guests. If Susannah had done that, I’d be furious.