April 10, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico

Myriam got up, confrontation burning on her mind. For the past few days she and Hiram, using his connections, had looked deeply into the shrine’s ownership and finances. To their surprise they uncovered that the board controlling the Friends of Rio de Milagro Shrine turned out to be a sham. The ownership of the property had been transferred four years earlier to a holding company in South Africa. The agent for the holding company was Raphael Núnez. A bank in Santa Fe had set up a trust to operate the finances of the shrine while maintaining the appearance of a nonprofit organization.

Myriam felt particularly humiliated and angry. She sat on the board and a year ago she had convinced Hiram to ask for a seat as well.

A board meeting was planned for 5 o’clock this afternoon. Raphael Núnez would be there, and so would Father Michael. Both men would have to answer some questions. But before that, Myriam and Hiram needed to do something important. It was Rosa’s last day at the Rio Chama Café.

Myriam and Hiram pulled up to the Café. Their usual parking place as well as two others on either side of it had been taken over by an early model Winnebago painted green, yellow, and red. They had to find a spot down the street in front of the hotel.

The restaurant was decked out for a party. Rosa’s cousin and his wife and their children and about thirty other family members Myriam didn’t recognize swarmed to greet them.

“Thank you for coming,” Rosa said, hugging Myriam. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“Almost didn’t. Had to park way down the street,” said Hiram. He hooked a thumb at the Winnebago. “Whose heap of junk is that anyway?”

Rosa reddened slightly. A booming voice from the back of the room cut through the chatter. “That would be my heap of junk and I think you should apologize for hurting her feelings.”

Myriam turned at the familiar voice. “Pete!” she exclaimed. The tall, lanky redhead came over grinning. They hugged briefly and he shook Hiram’s hand. “She doesn’t look like much on the outside, but if you have a few minutes I’ll give you the nickel tour—microwave satellite antenna, solar powered nickel hydride batteries, sonic shower, Tempurpedic bed, MacPherson struts, a fold-out galley with a convection oven, and a hybrid engine that purrs like a Rolls Royce. It’ll make touring the U.S. like being in a five star hotel every night.”

“You’re leaving?” asked Myriam.

“We’re leaving,” answered Rosa. She held up her hand and showed an engagement ring. “Pete proposed last night.”

Hiram asked, “Where did you find the money for that ring?”

“I sold the Café and Pete—”

“I traded in my trusty 1958 Nash Rambler, Nellie Bell, and I had a few extra dollars stashed from working for the South Africans. I figure I won’t be seeing them again and I’m no longer needed around these parts. So it’s off we go.”

“We’re going wherever wind and whimsy take us,” added Rosa.