| |
I hit delete and started again. I liked to think I was as tech-savvy as the next sixty-year-old lady, but social media was busting my butt. Their app’s upgraded utility uploader—say that three times fast—kept telling me I’d violated their terms of service, specifically the nudity one. I’d been trying to upload photos of my camper. Who the Mint-Truffle-Twist thought that was too sexy for my page?
Did their algorithms think the evil eye I’d painted over the hitch was a nipple?
After three attempts, I felt tempted to send my new computer through my living room window. Instead, I gave it one last try, carefully making certain of what boxes I checked and what I clicked on.
Five minutes later, I was in virtual jail. Three days of zero access, except to messages. Maybe I could write the admins and explain. Instead, I just emailed the photos to Jaqi and Lucia so they could post them.
I got up to boil water for a cup of tea. That would calm me down before I did something unfortunate. Like fly to LA and go on a murderous rampage. I had the money, and the thought presented a certain appeal. But I just made a tidy pot of Earl Grey and carried it back to my desk. By that time, Luci had posted the photos to her personal page.
Fudge-brownie-chip! I was learning not to swear by using ice-cream flavors. It wasn't nearly as satisfying.
I had inherited an old caravan wagon. A Roma vardo, I corrected myself. When my favorite aunt died two months ago, she’d left everything to me. Her house, her 60’s convertible, and a shocking amount of money. Plus the vardo, and so far I loved it best.
It was in a terrible state after nearly sixty years of neglect, but it sure cleaned up pretty.
A neighbor’s grandson worked construction, and I’d paid him to replace the rotted wood and modernize the interior. I then hired George and Adam from the shop upstreet to paint it. They had one of those car equipment shops and painted naked ladies on vans on weekends.
Of course, they didn’t paint them on the vardo. It had a crimson roof and door, and turquoise walls. They’d embellished it with Celtic knot-work and Roma symbols in metallic gold. It was gorgeous. I would need a bigger car to tow it, but that was okay. I had lots of money. Too much money, really. I was forming a Trust to share my fortune with LGBT groups who were doing good work and were trans-inclusive. Anyone getting my money had better be willing to include me.
Who knew that inheriting ten million dollars would be such a pain in the patoot? Well, it was only four million right now; my Aunt Bee’s estate lawyer and his secretary had stolen almost all of it before I’d caught them. I would get back whatever they hadn’t spent after the secretary’s trial. Then I would have to sue for the stuff she bought with Aunt Bee’s money.
The lawyer, bless his heart, was six feet under without even his wife to mourn him. Soon as she’d heard about his affairs, she’d stopped all pretence of grief. Now she was planning to sue me for his half of the stolen money, claiming it was his earnings.
Some people have no sense; she actually put that in the newspaper and gave my lawyer plenty of warning to fight her.
Since stewing on all of this was not relaxing, I decided to call Luci and try to talk her into going camping with me. It would be September soon enough, and by the end of the month, the weather would get too cold for me to sleep outside. Of course, I could put a little pot-bellied heater in the vardo and Tiffany-style lamps, and a faux-fur rug... Okay, it might resemble a fantasy bordello, but I couldn’t wait to decorate it. A sort of Victorian-Roma-Baroque-princess style.
I was still grinning when Luci answered the phone.
“Hi Vee, how are you doing all alone? Do you need a visitor? Jaqi’s on a deadline again.” Luci’s wife Jaqi was a well-known crime novelist. She usually took her inspiration from real murders and then twisted them up and added her own style. I wasn’t much for reading about murder victims, especially after finding a body last month, but Jaqi had won awards. So, I guess she was good at it. Writing, not murder.
Though they do say to write what you know...
“That would be wonderful. I want to get the inside of the vardo done, so we can take off for a holiday by a lake or something.”
“A trip? I don’t know. Jaqi hasn’t caught up from taking time off when you were arrested.”
I sighed. I’d been trying to forget that particular incident. I’d been arrested, deadnamed, and found my first corpse all in one week. Of course, I got my sweet, baby boy that week, too. A traumatized Chihuahua named Victor. He was still bald as an eagle but was much cuddlier with me after a few weeks. He now owned a dozen sweaters, from dignified argyle to fisherman’s knit, to knock-your-eyes-out orange for his evening walkies. I even had plans for our first Halloween together; I’d ordered him a little tuxedo and top hat, and one for me as well. Mine wasn’t from Dogs Run Wild, of course. I’d gone to a bridal and prom shop for it. Bless my lanky frame, it didn’t even need altering.
We were going as Victor/Victoria. My name is Victoria Rose Lilley, and I’m a trans woman.
And I’d missed everything Luci had been saying. Oops.
“I’m so sorry, what did you say?”
“When?”
“When what?” I shook my head. For being her third language, Lucia’s English was great, but she sometimes confused me. More than sometimes. “Just now. I’m afraid I zoned out a bit.”
“I wasn’t talking to you; I was in Jaqi’s office to see if she would camp with us. Are you sure you are okay?”
“Oh, she coming? When do you want to go?” I could feel my heart speed up as I pictured my colorful wagon parked by a serene lake. We would be wearing big sun hats and sipping martinis like a trio of southern belles.
I must have been dreaming out loud because I could hear Luci giggle down the phone line.
“Jaqi says she’ll come if it’s this weekend because it’s a holiday Monday and if she can bring her laptop to work all day. And no tents. She hates tents.” She giggled again, “It’s because of S-P-I-D-E-R-S.”
I heard Jaqi shout in the background. “I’m not four! I can spell.”
“Oh honey, that would be perfect. Canada Day at a lovely park, maybe fireworks and a band.” I sighed happily. “Could you come down to help me furnish the vardo? Jaqi can meet us there Thursday. I’ll rent a small RV for you and make reservations now.”
So we agreed, and it was done. Five days to get my little camper ready.
***
IT TOOK ALMOST NO TIME at all to book the RV and two spots in a trailer park near the Nation River. It was only ninety minutes from Smiths Falls and sixty from Ottawa. Perfect for trying out the camping experience. We could just pop back to their Ottawa apartment if it was too hard. But the weather was supposed to be hot and sunny, so I was happier than a pig in... Well, in a mud-bath let’s say. I am a lady.
I put Victor’s dark green sweater on him and pushed my rollator to the door. There were two steps I’d have to go down, but Burt’s grandson was coming by this weekend to turn them into a ramp for me. Oh dear, I need to leave the keys with Burt.
Burt Brown lived in the small white house on the opposite side from my driveway. He’d been terribly sweet on Aunt Bee but never got up the nerve to tell her before she passed. I guess looking after me was a consolation to him, and I had to admit he was handy. His grandson was even handier. And better looking, if only he wasn’t in his twenties, and I was interested in having a man underfoot.
I made a note on my new cell phone to drop off the keys when we set out on Thursday and went out to look at what Smiths Falls had to offer.
I couldn’t wait to get started on the decorating. The vardo was finished with plain white walls and an oak laminate floor. There were a set of wooden shelves in the corner to the right of the door where I would put a two-burner propane stove, a kettle, and a few dishes. The shelves had these pretty, carved ledges to prevent anything from falling while traveling. Under the shelves was a cupboard where the food would go. There were hooks for pots and pans and mugs beside the shelves, and a built-in storage bench on the on the left wall. There was also a very small fold-out table held to the wall with a brass latch. This would be so cozy once everything was no longer white and sterile looking.
I wrote down on my list: stove, heater, dishes, saucepan, frying pan, pot, kettle, cutlery, blankets, pillows, and wall paint. I glanced toward the bed, er, bedframe. Mattress went onto the list along with camping food and water.
This would be so much fun and so exhausting.
After many more lists, including meal planning, I put Victor into his car harness and headed up Highway 43 with the radio turned up loud.
Victor sang along with the slower songs; he just didn’t have the lungs for Lady Gaga. Or the vocal range.
***
TUESDAY MORNING
I had decided that the vardo would have all its own supplies, from bedding to spices. That meant no carting things to and from the house. Maybe I’d let the girls help with carrying stuff in to be washed, like the bedding.
I wished there was a Swedish store in Smiths Falls; we’d have to go into Ottawa tomorrow.
But there were some lovely little shops, and I knew I could get quite a few of the basics, though I was not expecting much in the decorating department.
Luci arrived bright and early, and we decided to just buy everything that caught my eye, and whatever didn’t work, I’d return next week. So much easier than looking at a bunch of stores, deciding what I wanted and then returning to all those shops again.
Especially on my sore hip—it was better than it was but was far from being better. I have to admit, my rollator did make shopping easier. I piled my shopping bags on the seat and if I needed a rest, I just moved the bags to the ground and sat. A big carabiner held Victor’s leash to the front bar and kept him from tangling up in the wheels.
I was pretty much done for the day by eleven. My hip was hurting from walking too much, and Victor was bored. A bored Chihuahua meant constant trouble as he kept investigating breakable items and possible chew toys. Like a pure wool blanket. Which I bought, both because he’d mauled it and because it might get chilly overnight. I still hadn’t found a way to heat my vardo that was in keeping with my style.
Just as I was about to throw in the towel, we spotted a store I’d never noticed before.
It looked early Victorian with mullioned glass panes in wooden frames running down beside the door. Lace curtains hung in the big storefront window, and the prettiest dishes had been set up for a feast. The fake turkey and plates of plastic vegetables should have looked tacky, but they didn’t.
I bought a set of the same dishes that were in the window, only in pink instead of yellow. They were real china with a gorgeous pink-roses-and-silver-lace pattern with matching tea towels. The shop also carried cloth napkins and an embroidered tablecloth, and I bought it all. I loved the pattern so much that if they’d had more items, I’d have bought them, too.
We’d only managed three stores, and my hip was hurting like blazes. But I loved the roses theme that was coming out. I even found a pink tea kettle. How awesome was that?
The Bun Journee was only a block away, a café owned by a friend of mine, so we dropped in for lunch. Bun Journee was a bilingual play on words. Bonne Journée is French for have a good day, and it was a cozy little bakery and café.
The specials were written in chalk on the wall beside the cash. The cream ceiling dripped down onto beige and cinnamon walls, giving the feeling you were inside a giant cinnamon bun. The scents of vanilla and baking pastries did nothing to dispel the illusion.
Benoit, the owner, was a cute French guy with dimples and teasing blue eyes. If I were twenty years younger—okay, thirty years younger—and he was single–what a match we’d be. I love sweets, he loves to bake... We’d be a perfect match!
Of course, he was married to another friend of mine, the only nice cop in town, Miko Shiomi. I was doomed to stay single. At my loud sigh, Ben looked up from decorating a fresh batch of cupcakes and saw us. A huge grin split his face, showing those adorable dimples, and he rushed around the end of the counter toward us.
“Miss Vee and la bella Lucia! It’s been ages; sit down.” We moved toward a table, but he caught my elbow and I turned to him. A flirty little pout pursed his full lips. “Not before I get my hugs.”
So, I opened my arms, and he gently wrapped himself around me, ever careful of my bashed-up hip. Cute as a bunny and thoughtful. Miko’s such a lucky man.
He hugged Lucia, then led us to a table near the back where it was quiet. As usual, he didn’t tell us what the specials were, and even with craning my neck, I couldn’t see the board. Ben had quizzed us on allergies and preferences one of the first times we’d come in, and he always made a lunch special just for us. He was always right, too.
Today’s offering was curried lentil soup with finely chopped veggies, and a chicken salad sandwich with smoky mayo. Delicious! He also brought us two chocolate-filled pastries, fresh and warm from the oven, and cinnamon coffee with fresh cream. I must have died and gone to heaven.
By the time I finished my near orgasmic enjoyment of the hot-fudge filling and the real whipped cream inside flaky pastry, Luci was absorbed in her tablet screen. I took a last sip of coffee and crushed my napkin.
“Okay, sweetie, please tell me you’re not watching porn.”
She grinned; her dark eyes nearly closed by her round cheeks.
“You really need a boyfriend,” she said.
I barked laughter, waking Victor from his nap under the table. I reached down to scratch the top of his head. “No, Vic here is the only man I’ll ever live with again. Though a date might be nice.” I smiled thinking about a big, bearded man with a rough voice and rougher hands. I stopped when I heard Lucia snort from trying to hold her laughter in.
I arched one eyebrow the way Jaqi does to hush us when we get silly, but it didn’t work. She just kept giggling. After a bit, Ben hurried over.
“What’s so funny? Can I get in on the joke?” He looked upset, and Luci stopped giggling instantly. Well, almost stopped. One or two still slipped through.
“Oh, hun. Whatever’s the matter? Is Miko okay?” I asked.
He pulled out a chair and swung it around to sit with his arms over the back of it. His blue eyes looked grayer, sadder.
“Nothing like that; he loves being a lieutenant. Especially the new partner part of it.”
I could see that. Miko’s last partner was a bigoted, lazy, vain cop with really nothing to be vain about. His only good point was that he was honest. When I’d been proven innocent of killing the estate lawyer, he’d happily arrested the real murderer. But he didn’t see the need to change anything. Or apologize for the tiger-tail ripple he put me through.
“Then what is wrong?” Luci’s voice was soft, inviting a confession.
“I just burned the brownies, thirty-six of them.” A corner of his mouth twitched upward, “Doesn’t sound like much does it? But it was a new recipe. Milk Chocolate with a swirl of salted caramel. And it took about an hour to make. That means I still don’t know if they’ll be any good, and I need a special for tomorrow. And now I’m an hour behind.”
“Just go with a tried and true one, and give these another whirl tomorrow. They sound amazing. I’d be happy to taste test them for you.” I smiled hopefully, widening my eyes like Victor did when begging.
It made him laugh, which had been my intent. Though I wouldn’t mind tasting those “ruined” brownies as well.
That gave me an idea. “Ben, we’re going camping this weekend. I know weekends are your busiest time, especially a long one, but could you put together some stuff like scones and croissants and things to take with us? Maybe some of those amazing éclairs?” Well, he perked right up and started running menu ideas. You could tell by the way his eyes moved, like he was reading an invisible list. He grinned as inspiration struck.
“What about something like an omelette baked inside a croissant, or a pizza roll with a nice doughy bread?”
I just kissed him on the cheek and handed him my credit card. “Whatever you think best, sweetie.”
Soon after, Luci and I were on the way to Ottawa. She had been looking at the Swedish store’s catalogue on her tablet and had an idea. Lord love us all, I just hoped it was camping proof. You know, non-flammable, bug proof, and not too delicate.
I shouldn’t have worried. She had found velvet curtains in a soft Wedgwood blue, a cream silk duvet cover, a bright peacock blue area rug and a lot more. And the store had motorized scooters, so I was off my feet as we rushed around.
We found coffee, cookies, frozen foods, lingonberry jam, marmalade, even pear juice! I needed a fridge and freezer for the vardo ASAP.
***
THURSDAY MORNING
It was a sunny morning with only a few clouds when we hit the road. Lucia plugged her memory stick of Latin music into the RV’s USB port. Well, where else would she put it? The port was in the space where the ashtray used to be, and I briefly regretted quitting smoking, though why the lack of an ashtray or lighter made me want a cigarette, was beyond me. I’d quit years ago and had cravings at the oddest times.
The best cure for a smoke craving is sugar, so our first stop was the Bun Journee, where, true to his word, Ben had a big box waiting for us. We ordered large coffees to go from the teenage girl running the cash and waved to Ben, who was slaving in the heat of the kitchen. He grinned and mimed calling him. I laughed and nodded; we’d need to let him know what we thought of the treats he’d prepared for us.
By the time we hit the lights to turn onto Highway 43, we were already into the box. The buttermilk biscuit with mini western omelette and sharp cheese was to die for! It disappeared in a flurry of warm buttery crumbs, and I reached for a second.
Luci slapped my hand. I yanked it back.
“You drive! You can eat when we are safe on the 401.”
I started to argue, but she was right, the turning circle and on-ramp were a bit tricky in morning rush-hour traffic. Especially since we were driving a small RV and towing the vardo behind it.
I sulked anyway.
Luci ignored me, humming along to her music with her mouth full. She was bopping in her seat, and I recognized what she called her happy tummy dance.
I couldn’t help but smile. She was just too adorable, like a child in a woman’s curvy body. She always found the simple joys and made me see them, too.
My heart swelled with hope and love. Lucia was one half of my best friends ever, and her partner, Jaqi, would be joining us for dinner. I had high hopes for the weekend. The RV and my vardo beside a placidly flowing river, maybe we could catch fish for tomorrow’s lunch.
Luci was right; this was a moment of perfect joy. So, I joined her in bopping along to the music.
Less than two hours later, we pulled off the road in front of what could only be an abandoned industrial site. There was a small shack, once painted white but now peeling in long strips along the vinyl slats, a high-wire fence with a wooden cattle-gate in the center, and cracked pavement in a roughly oblong shape.
There were a few trees and the glint of water down by the far side. That was it. That flushing noise was my dream of a perfect weekend going down the toilet. Whoosh!
I pulled up the reservation on my cell and checked the street number. They matched. Cherry Garcia Crunch!
“Did you check the reviews?” Lucia pulled my phone over to peer at the campsite’s name. Of course, there was no sign on the actual campground. I wondered where they took all the beautiful, happy photos. It wasn’t here; that’s for certain.
“Oh, my,” Lucia whispered. I turned to her from staring at the cracked, depressing yard. She held out her phone.
It had a one-star rating. Some reviewers said they’d give it less if they could.
“But the reviews on the website were all great, and the photos...”
Luci shook her head. “All fake, Vee, all lies.” She took another look at the wooden gate and sighed. “It’s not too late. We can find another place and tell Jaqi the new address.” She smiled hopefully.
I shook my head, “Already paid for, sweetie. And it wasn’t cheap.” I pointed at the far end of the site. “At least there are trees and a view back there.”
“I have a bad feeling, Vee. Just forget the money and go.”
While I normally listened to Lucia’s gut feelings, and should have in this case, I was getting angry at being ripped off. No wonder they insisted you pay in advance.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not letting them steal from me. We’re going to stay and demand all of the amenities they promised.”
Luci just shook her head.
***
I MADE LUCI GET OUT and drag the heavy, wooden gate out of the way. She muttered the whole time, and I felt glad I stayed in the car. I wanted to learn Spanish but not those words!
I waved at her to close the gate behind me, but she left it open.
“We may want to leave still.”
She looked the grouchiest I’d ever seen her, her brows drawn together and her mouth in full pout. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and I hoped it wasn’t because she was pissed at me. It would be an even worse trip if she was angry all weekend.
I drove slowly over to the treed area, feeling the vardo rocking behind the car. I just hoped it didn’t crack something.
I was right; there were nice shady spots beneath the trees and a view of a sluggish bit of shallow water. They were all full.
I sighed and looked for the closest space with a power stick. I know they’re called power poles, but it was short, and the outside plastic had cracked. I was not gracing it with the stately name of pole. I always talked nonsense when trying to think. Sometimes it shook a good thought loose, most times I sounded like a fool.
Luci giggled. I was also talking out loud again. Someday I would learn to use my inside voice.
I carefully backed into a spot, thankful that Luci had made me buy those big trucker mirrors, since I couldn’t see past the vardo. I had just gotten it where I wanted when a man stepped out of the mini-trailer nearest the water.
He stood, hands on hips, long enough for me to do a thorough inventory, and I liked what I saw. That is; if I was in the market, which I’m not. Still, he was tall with slim hips and a broad chest in a tight T-shirt. He looked a well-lived fifty, his neatly trimmed beard a little grayer than his curly, red hair. I made myself a bet that his eyes would be green as an Irish kiss. He leaned away from us to jump down the stairs to his trailer, and I admired the flex of muscles under his denim jeans.
I climbed out of the RV a bit stiff from the long drive.
Luci laughed and wiped non-existent drool from my chin. I immediately pulled up my dignity and smiled at her. “Just window shopping, don’t get any ideas.”
“I think you are already having the sexy ideas.” Her soft Spanish accent made her words sound even more salacious.
“I told you, I’m too old for that nonsense. I’m happy by myself.” I pushed away thoughts of cuddling with a hot guy on the sofa while watching TV, Victor at my feet. “I’m over it.”
“You’re over the hump!” Luci shrieked laughter. I’ll admit I laughed too, until the handsome stranger stopped right in front of me with a scowl. I stifled the laughter but was still grinning when I greeted him.
“Are you the welcoming party?”
He didn’t smile back. “You can’t set up there.”
I looked around and saw no fence or reserved signs. I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze directly. I was wrong; his eyes were a muddy greenish brown. Not even a little attractive.
“Why not?” My voice dared him to reply.
“Because it’s the owner’s nephew’s spot. He’ll be back after lunch.”
“I didn’t see it marked.”
He shook his head, a small twitch of his eyebrows showing he was amused. I was not. He took me gently by the elbow and led me to one side of the vardo, then pointed at a bright red circle hanging from the overhead light.
“That’s an apple fly trap,” I pointed out.
“You see any apple trees?”
He had the nerve to smirk at me. I glared at him. He thought he was charming? Well, I’d had it with charming men.
“At best it’s a poor representation of a no-hunting symbol. It should be sprayed directly on the pole.”
“You’re right, the owner’s too cheap to get special signs to mark long-term rentals. But it’s still Keith’s spot.”
I looked around; it was the only half decent spot on this side of the grounds. I crossed my arms. “No way, I need the power and the shade, I’m disabled.” I dared him to disagree.
He sighed, and then looked me over. And I mean looked. Me. Over. It took about three full minutes. I was just about to blow up when he smiled one of those lazy half-smiles that does something naughty to a lady’s thoughts. I tried to keep my focus on the parking spot and not on his warm hazel eyes with a bit of crinkly laugh lines just at the outer edge.
“Look, lady.”
“Victoria.” I tried on a confident smile to see if it fit.
“Victoria. It suits you. I’m Carl.” He shook his head again. “You can’t park here, seriously. Keith is bad news and he’ll have a meltdown. There’s one good spot on the other side, near the office. It has power but none of the sites have water or sewage. You’ll need to drive into Casselman for water and find a way to store your, uh, waste until you get home.”
“The website said water, sewage and power.” I was arguing for no real reason; the vardo had no running water or bathroom. “Tell me there’s at least a shower and toilet.”
He smiled as he shook his head. “Shall I help you set up over there or hold the gate while you leave?”
***
LUCI HAD GONE TO TALK to the owner at the sad little office building, but he wasn’t there. There had been a sign with No Refunds/No Cancellations on the door, though.
So, Carl helped her level the vardo and put the red plastic chocks behind the wheels so it wouldn’t roll away. I loved the way they matched the door and the roof. It was just so sweet. I left him looking it over as I parked the RV in the spot with power.
I returned with my purse and Victor on his leash. It was a warm day, so he was just wearing a light baseball jacket and cap.
Carl was up with one foot resting on the vardo’s fender and staring through the window. I cleared my throat and Victor barked. Carl turned and hopped lightly down. He grinned ruefully, his eyes crinkling again. I told the funny feeling in my belly that we were so done with men, but it didn’t listen. Well, my belly didn’t have a say. It was my heart that had been broken over and over.
“Hey, sorry, Vicky. But this is a great looking camper, where did you get it?”
“Not Vicky, Victoria. Never Vicky.” I couldn’t help my tone of voice. I remembered a girl in high school everyone called Sticky Vicky, and there was no way I was going to stand for that.
“Sorry, Victoria. But where did you get this old girl? She’s gorgeous.”
I gave him the side-eye, checking to see if “old girl” meant me or the vardo. He seemed to mean the vardo, so I told him about fixing it up and Luci and I painting and decorating the interior. He nodded and pointed at the bright red door.
“May I take just a peek inside? I’ve always loved these Gypsy caravans.”
“Vardo,” I corrected him, if my belly was going to get ideas, I needed to make sure he wasn’t a casual racist. “The Roma called it a vardo—my father’s family has Roma roots. Don’t say Gypsy, that’s a slur used by non-Roma.”
He grinned, flashing slightly crooked white teeth. “Right. Never Vicky, never gypsy.”
I laughed and nodded. I might as well let him see inside; I needed to check that nothing had fallen on the way here, anyway.
The pillows and blankets had slid down to one side of the bed, but the rest was exactly as I’d left it. I stepped in and turned on the two Tiffany-style table lamps by the bed. I was so proud of her; she looked like a million bucks. American bucks, so that’s like 1.35 million Canadian.
Carl whistled as he pushed the strings of glittery beads aside and leaned in. He took note of the cupboard by the door and the shelves of pots, pans and dishes. Leaning way over, he ran his hands over the fake sheepskin rug by the bed.
“This is the nicest camper I’ve ever seen. I’d heard of glamping, but never thought would look like this. I always thought it was just yuppies with martinis.”
“Well, I have to admit I make a great dirty martini. Wait until we set up the awning and chairs and stuff. We brought so many fun things.”
He grinned and touched his fingers to his forehead, like a salute. “I’ll have to come by for a drink after dinner.”
I looked down my long, elegant nose at him for having the nerve to invite himself over, but my heart wasn’t in it. And I had sorta-maybe invited him.
***
LUCI AND I WERE SETTING up the camp with a folding table with a bright gold cloth held on by butterfly-shaped weights. I had bought adjustable blue chairs, so we’d all be comfortable, considering Jaqi’s long legs and my injured hip.
A metal fire bowl (in case there wasn’t a fire-pit–which there wasn’t), an umbrella for shade, and a couple of hanging plants completed our outdoor dining room.
Since there was no river view, our conversation area was under the RV’s awning, looking out over a large field of corn.
It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it was alright. If one never turned around to see the rest of the place.
Lucia and I were having a nice lunch of sandwiches and a salad from the fridge when we saw a beaten-up camper truck pull into the reserved spot across the way.
That must be Keith, I thought. But a woman climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked over to Carl’s RV.
“There you go,” I told my belly. It didn’t listen, tingling slightly as Carl came out to look at her.
But he didn’t seem happy to see her. I ducked my head, pretending I hadn’t been watching as he glanced around.
He grabbed her by the elbow, and I heard her swear as he dragged her into his camper.
I met Luci’s dark eyes and she shook her head, “This is not a happy place, Vee. We should go somewhere else.”
I felt stubborn enough to stay put. I paid for this place, and we were going to enjoy ourselves, dammit.
The angry voices from Carl’s drifted over on the dry breeze. Loud enough to be a pain, but not clear enough to eavesdrop. I had to know what they were arguing about. It didn’t sound like a lover’s quarrel—it was angrier than that.
I don’t know why I cared; the man clearly had a temper. I didn’t care at all actually. I was just curious. However, I decided to inquire at the management office about a refund. Wouldn’t be my fault that it was so much closer to Carl.