Into the Mist Read online

  INTO THE MIST

  A NOVEL

  P. C. CAST

  To Lola Palazzo—the Stella to my Mercury, the Thelma to my Louise. Let’s go on holiday—hello!

  CHAPTER

  1

  “HOLY SHIT! BRIGHT and cold is so confusing.” Mercury Rhodes dug in her purse for her sunglasses, which she found—predictably—at the very bottom of the bag. She fished them out, frowning at the lint from balled-up, unused tissues that always lurked in her purse, and blew across the lenses before she shoved them on her face.

  She was joined by her best friend, Stella Carver, who—also predictably—had her shades perched perfectly on her nose. Stella pulled up the faux fur collar on her 1920s flapper-style car coat and took a sip of her mimosa. “Oh please, Acorn. We’ve been at Timberline for five days, and this is what—your third conference here?”

  Mercury raised a brow. “Fourth. And don’t call me Acorn.”

  “Fourth. Whatever. You’re not used to the bright mixed with cold yet? And by the by, I like your dad’s nickname for you, and ten plus years of best friendship allows me Acorn privileges.”

  “Fine. Call me Acorn. And, no, I think it’ll always be weird to me that I can get a sunburn and frostbite at the same time. More importantly, where’d you get the mimosa?”

  “Ram’s Head Bar made me a to-go flute. Aren’t they sweet?” Stella tilted her mirrored sunglasses down. Her glacier-blue eyes sparkled mischievously as she batted her eyelashes in mock innocence.

  Mercury snorted. “You’re an Oklahoma public schoolteacher, so I know they’re”—Mercury air-quoted the word—“not being sweet because you’re an over-tipper.”

  “You know I always tip a solid twenty percent. Bad tippers have no soul.” Stella’s full lips curled up into a cat-licking-cream grin. “But there are more ways to show appreciation than with money.”

  “So, you hooked up with that infant last night?”

  Stella clutched her fake pearls. “Dusty is thirty and a half. An absolutely legal adult.”

  “You’re forty-five and a half. That’s a fifteen-year difference.”

  Stella shrugged. “Numbers. Mere numbers.”

  Mercury rolled her hazel eyes. “Fifteen years. And please. His name couldn’t actually be Dusty Rose. With all that long hair and those tattoos, he’s textbook romance hero cliché.”

  Stella tossed back her mane of blonde and silver-streaked curls. “Oh, honey, who cares about a decade or so? Look at this fabulous ass.” She wiggled her shapely butt. “Does it say I’m too old? Not hardly. And with his skills, who the hell cares what his name is?”

  “You’re not talking about his ability to mix a perfect cocktail, are you?”

  “Huh? Did you say cock?”

  A man rushed past them, jostling Stella’s arm so that she spilled half of her mimosa on the wide concrete stairs that stretched from the entrance of Timberline Lodge to the parking lot of the Oregon ski resort. “Come on!” he blustered. “Get that SUV pulled around so we can load the luggage! We need to get going so we’re at the Portland airport an hour and a half before flight time!”

  “Jesus H. Christ!” Stella glared at the man. “Watch where you’re going, Mr. Hale!”

  Richard Hale glanced over his shoulder at the two women. “Ladies, fun and games are over. The rest of the teachers are already waiting with the luggage around the side of the lodge.” He gestured dramatically at the driver of the nearby Escalade, who began to swing the vehicle past them to follow the side road that led to the bellhop station. Then Richard Hale faced the two women, his look of disapproval focused on Stella’s half-empty mimosa. “Ms. Carver, is that really necessary?”

  “Yes. Completely.”

  His sigh was long suffering. “Well, you’re waiting at the wrong place. No wonder Coach Davis was confused and pulled up here.” Hale paused, and when neither woman responded, he ran his hand through his short, thinning blond hair. “Well, come on. Follow me to where you’re supposed to be.” He marched down the stairs after the rental SUV.

  “Principals make my ass hurt,” said Mercury as she combed her fingers through her wavy hair.

  Stella chugged the last of her mimosa and threw the plastic flute into a nearby waste can. “Preaching to the choir, my friend. Better follow him before he has a stroke.” She hooked her arm through Mercury’s and whispered, “And you know he has high blood pressure, soooo …” She let the last word linger and waggled her eyebrows.

  Mercury barked a laugh. “Ha! Don’t all principals have high blood pressure?”

  “Probably.” Stella shrugged. “Most of ’em can’t even handle a classroom, yet they’re promoted.” She rolled her eyes. “Mediocrity is so much easier to control than free-thinking excellence, but they put mediocrity in charge of those of us who are free-thinking and excellent—hence the high blood pressure issue.”

  “Preach, sister!” Mercury lowered her voice. “Too bad his fave, Deena, doesn’t have her National Certification and wasn’t eligible to attend the spring conference. She really gets his blood pressure up.”

  Stella’s laughter was full, loud, and contagious. “Hey, they’re platonic. Remember?”

  “Uh, nope. But I do remember that he’s married and so is dear little Deena. I also remember seeing her leave his office last month, very disheveled—with her appliqued sweater on inside out. And then Dicky Hale named her head of the English Department at the next faculty meeting. Coincidence? I think not.”

  “I love faculty scandals,” said Stella. “Especially when the participants are too inept to even attempt a decent cover-up. I mean, Deena is the youngest, least experienced teacher in the English department. Like it’s not obvious how she got named head?”

  “Right? Clearly it’s the correct job title, though.”

  Giggling like girls, the friends joined the small group waiting beside the black Escalade. A young, harried bellhop nodded automatically as the principal explained to him how to load the luggage into the rear of the big SUV. Beside the SUV three women watched the luggage loading with silent semi-interest. When they saw Mercury and Stella, two of the three grinned and waved. The third pursed her lips in an expression so familiar that deep crevices framed her thin lips—pursed or not.

  “There you two are!” The tall brunette, whose skinny jeans and cropped top made her look more student than teacher, lifted a cardboard drink carrier that had two paper cups in it. Puppy-ish, she bounced up on her toes as she offered the drinks to Mercury and Stella. “Got you guys your fave.”

  “Coffee and Kahlúa?” Mercury asked as she reached for one of the cups.

  “Yep. With no sugar for both of you, right?”

  Mercury grinned as she took one of the cups from the cardboard holder. “Jenny, you were the best intern I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m the only intern you’ve ever had,” Jenny quipped.

  “Well, you’re the best new nationally certified teacher I know,” said Stella before she took her own cup and sipped it with a satisfied smile.

  Mercury lifted one brow. “You’ve never even watched her teach.”

  Stella shrugged. “I don’t have to. She knows how we like our booze coffee. Her attention to detail is clearly excellent, which makes for good teaching.”

  Mercury laughed. “Point well made, girlfriend.”

  “Do you really think having your ex-intern fetch spiked coffee is the proper way to mentor her as a young teacher?”

  Stella curled a lip. “Absolutely. Acorn and I live by the motto: start as you mean to finish. So take your dark, judgmental cloud elsewhere, Karen.”

  Karen sniffed disapprovingly. “I don’t know why you insist on calling Ms. Rhodes by that nickname. It really isn’t professional.”

  “She’s my best frie
nd. There’s nothing professional about that, which you’d know if you had a best friend,” quipped Stella. “Plus, her dad wasn’t wrong when he nicknamed her. Her hair really is a perfect acorn shade.” Stella reached out to pat Mercury’s wavy, nut-colored hair.

  Mercury sidestepped Stella’s hand and muttered, “Stop antagonizing her!” under her breath at her friend, then stifled a sigh and forced herself to smile at the pinched-face teacher. “Good morning, Mrs. Gay.” Mercury always called the history teacher by her last name. She realized it was childish, but she thought it was hilarious that someone so uptight and homophobic had that particular name. “Did you sleep well?”

  Karen Gay nodded jerkily. “Of course. Sleeplessness is a sign of a troubled conscience.”

  “Or fun, Karen. You do remember fun, don’t you?” added Stella—who always called her by her first name because, as she put it, Karen is such a Karen.

  Karen’s only response was a disapproving glance as she straightened her cardigan and smoothed her strictly starched and ironed khaki slacks.

  “Oh, look you guys.” Amelia Watson, the last member of their little group representing Tulsa Public Schools, called their attention to the sign “Timberline Lodge Welcomes Nationally Certified Teachers Spring Conference Members” that another bellhop was changing to “Welcome Portland Nike Executives.”

  “That’s kinda sad,” she said.

  “I don’t know,” Mercury said. “All of this bright cold is wearing on me. It’s pretty, but snow year-round is just not right.”

  Stella shook her head. “Please don’t be such an Okie.”

  “But I am an Okie!” Mercury loaded the sentence with a lazy twang that sounded like Tulsa on a hot summer day.

  “Well, I think it’s nice here. I like the snow and—” Amelia paused, winced, and rubbed her protruding belly.

  “You okay?” Mercury stepped closer to the pregnant teacher.

  Amelia sighed and nodded as she continued to massage her middle. “I’m fine. He’s just agreeing with me by kicking my ribs.”

  Stella studied her. “Are you sure you’re only seven months along? You look big enough to pop any second.”

  “Thanks.” Amelia laced her words heavily with sarcasm. “That’s exactly what every pregnant woman wants to hear.”

  “Sorry!” Stella held up her hands in mock surrender. “Your pregnant dress is real pretty. I love that shade of yellow. Truce?”

  Amelia laughed. “Truce. But it’s called a maternity dress. I’m the one who’s preggers—not my dress.”

  Richard Hale, principal of Will Rogers High School, under-tipped the bellhop and then made a shooing motion at the little group. “Let’s go! Load up.”

  “I’m sitting in the back with Mercury and Stella,” said Jenny as she climbed up into the rear bench seat of the rented SUV.

  The principal frowned disapprovingly while the three women slid into the seat before he offered Karen Gay his hand and helped her into the center bucket seat.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Hale. I do appreciate a true gentleman,” Karen said primly.

  Then the principal turned his frown on the pregnant teacher. “I suppose you still have to ride in the front seat.”

  Amelia’s cheeks went pink. “I really can’t help it. I’m always travel sick when I’m pregnant. It’s better in the front seat.”

  “Amelia can sit back here with us,” Mercury called. “But she’ll probably puke.”

  “We don’t mind, though,” Jenny said.

  “Fuckin’ A we don’t! Come on back here with the cool kids!” added Stella.

  Predictably, Stella’s language made Mr. Hale wince. “No, it’s fine. Ride up front. Coach Davis! Move back. I’m driving.”

  “No problem. You’re our boss,” said the coach. He climbed from the driver’s seat to the empty bucket seat behind it and nodded politely to Karen before he winked at the women behind him.

  Mercury hated that Coach Davis referred to Hale as their “boss.” The truth was that a principal is an administrator—not an employer. The school board actually did the hiring and firing—of principals as well as teachers—but she winked back at him and Stella blew him a kiss, which made the amiable coach grin. Then Mercury startled as someone rapped on the SUV’s window, but as soon as she focused on the person—an athletically attractive woman whose tawny beige skin radiated health and whose thick, raven curls perfectly framed her smile—she quickly lowered her window.

  “Imani! I missed you at breakfast,” Mercury grinned back at her.

  “And I missed you at the bar,” added Stella.

  Imani’s laugh was deep and filled with joy. “Oh, honey, you know sleeping with the bartender doesn’t mean you were actually at the bar, right?”

  Stella smoothed back her hair. “We stopped by the bar. Afterward. So he could make me a goodbye mimosa.”

  “You’re nasty,” said Imani. “Which is why I like you.”

  Mercury cleared her throat expectantly.

  Imani laughed again. “You’re nasty too, even if you aren’t the cradle robber your bestie is.”

  “That’s only because she’s older.” Mercury paused. “But I do aspire to be her when I grow up.”

  Stella spoke around her friend. “You want to squish in here? We’re heading to the Portland airport.”

  “Nah, but thanks. I booked an afternoon flight back to San Diego so that I’d have time for a little hike before I had to leave.” She gazed up at Mount Hood, stretching white and majestic behind them. “I do love me some San Diego, but sometimes I crave snow and mountains and all this raw nature.”

  Mercury shivered. “Ugh. Snow. Ugh. Nature. You can have both. Hey, don’t forget to email me your botany lesson plan for that cool photosynthesis lab.”

  “I won’t forget,” Imani said. “And you two remember you promised to take a road trip to San Diego this summer and stay with me.”

  Stella flipped her hair. “Are you kidding? No way we’re forgetting. Lots of military men stationed there, and my summer mission is to find Mr. Right Now—hello!”

  “We are leaving!” Mr. Hale shouted from the driver’s seat as he put the SUV in gear.

  Imani jumped back as Mercury and Stella waved.

  “I hate it when Dicky acts douchey in front of other teachers,” Mercury muttered to Stella, who nodded as she sipped her coffee and Kahlúa.

  “Don’t worry,” Stella whispered back. “Teachers expect principal douchery.”

  Jenny snorted a laugh and almost spewed coffee out her nose.

  “It’s always great to see Imani, though,” said Mercury. “I’m so glad our combined love of weird science stuff brought us together.”

  “Right?” Stella’s thick blonde and silver hair bounced around her face as she nodded. “I’ll never forget meeting her in that pottery and brickmaking workshop. How many years ago was it?”

  “Four,” said Mercury. “Jenny, didn’t Imani also take that workshop on radio wave experiments with you this year?”

  “Yep, and afterward we met y’all for margaritas at the bar. Remember?”

  “I definitely recall the margaritas,” said Stella. “And that’s the night I met Dusty.” She waggled her brows.

  Richard Hale’s watery blue eyes snapped up to the rearview mirror. “You know, this conference is for academic enhancement, not partying.”

  “Yeah, we know. Together, over the past four days we attended”—Mercury paused as she counted—“six workshops, five curriculum and development meetings, a massive teacher roundtable, and we also had a great time. Women are wonderful multitaskers,” said Mercury. “At least that’s what you say every semester when you want us to take on extra duties for no extra pay, remember?”

  “I definitely remember,” said Stella.

  Jenny chimed in, “Me too.”

  Coach Davis covered his laugh with a cough while Karen Gay pursed her lips and opened the Guideposts Magazine she always kept in her briefcase.

  Hale grunted and flicke
d on the radio.

  Stella used her coat as a pillow, propping it against Mercury’s shoulder. She drained her coffee cup, grinned sleepily at her friend, and said, “Night-night.”

  “Night, nasty.” Mercury settled back with her Kindle. She scrolled through her library and tried to decide between something fae by Holly Black or something fae by Karen Marie Moening, but then ended up not reading either—the tall pines that filled the forest on both sides of Oregon’s highway 26 west kept pulling at her attention.

  Oregon was so green—even in the snow. A born and raised Okie, Mercury was used to green fading to olive, then sage, and finally brown. This was her fourth trip to Timberline Lodge, and she was still amazed at seeing the multiple shades of green along with the snow. She looked forward to getting closer to Portland, where the snow would be replaced by ferns and thick, spongy-looking moss. As they drove, the verdant landscape worked like a white noise machine. Her eyelids grew heavy and had just begun to flutter closed when Amelia’s tentative voice broke the spell.

  “Um, sorry, but I need to stop.”

  Mr. Hale glanced at her. His lips pressed into tight disapproval.

  Amelia shrugged and patted her basketball-sized belly. “He decided to quit kicking my ribs and is now jumping up and down on my bladder. Or at least that’s what it feels like.”

  Hale’s voice was as tight as his lips. “We’ve only passed Government Camp a few minutes ago. We are not even twenty miles from the lodge.”

  “I really can’t help it.” Amelia’s voice sounded small, and that pissed Mercury off.

  Mercury leaned forward, which caused Stella to wake up and blink blearily. “Hey, she’s pregnant. Just stop and let her pee. Jesus.”

  “I’m awake because Amelia has to pee?” Stella grumped.

  “No, you’re awake because Mr. Hale is being a misogynist bully,” said Mercury as she caught the principal’s gaze in the rearview mirror. She shook her head at him like he was an errant student, and he quickly looked away.

  “It’s just that there’s no rest stop near,” he muttered.

  “I don’t need a rest stop,” Amelia blurted out as she patted her purse. “I brought toilet paper. I’m cool with peeing in the woods.”