Mountain Getaway

by Pine, Heather

  “He did.”

  “And?”

  Rick pulled the envelope from his pocket and turned it over in his hand. “And what?”

  Her exasperated sigh blew into the speaker. “How much was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Rick, when someone hands you an offer…”

  Rick pulled the phone away from his ear and waited for his mother’s deafening voice to quiet. “There’s no point in looking at it when I’m not interested in selling.”

  “You should at least respect the man and look at his offer. It is what any decent human being would do.”

  Respect? For Robert Fletcher? He nearly snorted in his mother’s ear. The man was proud and domineering and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, which was why he reminded Rick of his father.

  “I’m sure whatever Robert offered you was more than fair,” she added in her most persuasive tone.

  If Rick hadn’t been holding the envelope, he would have pulled at his hair. This was how it always went with his family. Whenever they caught wind of something he did that they disagreed with, they would send in his mother to sway him in their direction. They wanted him back home in the city, and a deal with Robert Fletcher would fit with their vision for his life.

  “Is this why you called me, Mom? To convince me to take Robert’s deal?”

  Her laugh became a nervous chuckle. Perhaps his voice had been louder than he had intended. “It would be nice to have you back home. Your father and I miss you.” She had recovered well and the warmth of a mother’s love oozed through the phone. However, Rick had already understood this wasn’t about wanting the family back together. This was about their relationship with Robert Fletcher and not about their son’s happiness. “Are you really going to pass up three million dollars?”

  There it was. The confirmation Rick needed. “So, Robert told you.”

  “Of course, he told us. We all agree you’re being stubborn about this, Rick. No one else would give you three million for that old cabin.”

  They didn’t like the cabin because Rick hadn’t torn down the building to build new. His family expected luxury, high-end… everything. Rick preferred the rustic touches the previous owner had put into the home. It had history and character, unlike the modern homes his family owned. He had made some changes since he moved in. The back deck was new, since years of weather had rotted the old one. He had updated the kitchen and bathrooms, and had new windows and doors installed. Besides a few other cosmetic changes, the cabin remained as it was, with its rustic plank floors, wood-trimmed ceiling, and even the ladder to the loft, which the previous owners had brought in from an even older barn. He had added his own personal touches to make it feel like home, and he liked it.

  “That old cabin is my life, Mom.” He glanced down at the envelope, now crumpled in his hand.

  “I still don’t understand what you like about that place. There is nothing there for you.”

  He faced his cabin. The front exterior was invisible from the fence-line, obscured by the trees and their branches. “You mean there is no one here. All you talk about is me getting married.”

  One more way they tried to control his life. The last time he listened to them on that point, it blew up in his face and blew his heart apart along with it. He wasn’t going down that road again.

  “Well, I imagine you all alone in that house and I worry about you being lonely.” Again, with the motherly tone.

  “I’m not lonely, Mother. I have plenty of friends.”

  “Friends are not enough. We may not agree on a lot of things, but you must realize I’m right about this. You are a good man, Rick, and there is a girl out there for you somewhere. I can guarantee you will not find her in the middle of some forgotten town like Lemon Grove. I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy, Mother. How can I convince you of that?”

  “I think I’m pretty easy to convince. Your father…”

  Once again, Rick removed the phone from his ear. He didn’t need to hear his father’s expectations for his life, as he had heard them many times before. It was what drove him to Lemon Grove in the first place and why he was more convinced than ever, Lemon Grove was where he needed to stay.

  “Mom,” he said, interrupting her mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, but I need to go. There are a couple of things I need to wrap up before I get into my next work call.”

  “Of course,” she said. Anything for business. “Maybe we can talk later after you have time to look over Robert’s offer.”

  So, never. “Sounds good, Mom.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief when the call ended, and tucked his phone away. The wrinkled envelope remained in his hand as he carried it back to the house. It belonged in the trash bin with all the other offers Robert had given him, but three million dollars was a lot of money to throw away. His mother was right. No one else would make him the same offer, and he thought of what he could do with that kind of money, such as buy himself a newer place with a great-sized yard and even a pool if he wanted. With three million dollars, a custom-built home in the mountains with spectacular views wasn’t out of reach… but it wouldn’t be in Lemon Grove.

  Rick tossed the envelope onto a small table beside the front door and headed into his office. The tall window offered its own spectacular view of the woods behind his house. Would he be willing to trade this in for something else? These woods have given him more than just a view. They had brought him focus, freedom from the city, and healed his broken heart.

  Sure, the money would help him afford someplace new, but at what cost? Knowing what would happen to the forest he loved, he couldn’t bear it.

  He fired up his emails and saw a message of high importance waiting for him. It was from his father. Like Robert, Rick would make him wait for a response. There were several messages from clients waiting, and they should take priority over some conversation about a personal matter. He only wanted to push Rick to do his bidding and had no interest in what Rick wanted.

  Rick checked his watch and noted the time. He still had a few hours before Glenda would call from the campground to tell him it was time to swing by. Another reason not to leave Lemon Grove. He had people looking out for him here, and he couldn’t move when leaving would hurt a friend.

  Chapter Six

  She had planned to only walk a quick circle around the loop, but Molly could not resist a detour on a short trail near the entrance to the campground. The carved wooden sign had shown the circuit as a thirty-minute loop, and Molly impulsively turned. Why not? The weather was beautiful with the sun fanning down through the leaves, creating a veil of light on the path. A light breeze turned the leaves into wind instruments as they beat together in a symphony. Best of all, there were no people. The entire trail was hers to enjoy.

  A trail this close to the perimeter of the campsite meant she wouldn’t be in danger. The sounds and smells of the guests would keep the animals away, so she was confident of being alone without a can of bear spray. Only a dog at her feet would make her feel safer. Even the dog from the campsite following her along the trail would do. But this was fine. She was close to the campground where someone would hear her if she called for help, and might even come to her rescue, especially since the sides of travel trailers were visible between the trees. It wasn’t as if she had wandered too far into the woods.

  The detour brought with it a change of scenery. A trickle of water from a small brook flowed under a mushroom-covered log before feeding into the larger creek. Pine needles littered the forest floor, giving it a reddish hue. Small shrubs were attempting to grow, no doubt struggling from the lack of direct sunlight and the limited rain penetrating through the canopy above.

  A squirrel dug at the base of a tree to bury its treasure and Molly paused, mesmerized by the creature’s stealthy behavior. No one in her family ever cared about squirrels and viewed them as a nuisance, always trying to steal food from their picnic table. Molly alway
s liked them. She even bought a small toy squirrel at a gift shop to place on her childhood bed. The toy was long gone, but the memory remained of its plush tail and large, black plastic eyes. A static toy squirrel couldn’t beat the real thing with their jittery movements, as if always startled and on edge.

  The squirrel lifted its head and took off like a shot, scampering into the woods. Molly laughed at the thought of a silly squirrel spooking itself. There was nothing nearby to startle it, except for Molly, and she was motionless. Unless…

  A quiet crack of a twig in the distance made the hairs on the back of Molly’s neck stand upright. There was something else in the woods that she couldn’t see, and Molly didn’t want to wait to see what it was. Taking her cue from the squirrel, Molly moved at a jog, panting as she rushed to the end of the trail. She exited into the half-empty campground where she caught her breath and laughed. Nothing had chased her, and like the squirrel, she spooked herself.

  With her nerves calmed, Molly took a fresh look at the campground. In this loop there were only three occupied sites, and the further she went, she discovered only twelve more occupied sites out of the forty-five capacity campground. There were fewer campers remaining than she thought. Given the nature of campgrounds, travelers would arrive later in the day and set up prior to their evening meal. She pondered if running a campground was profitable with so few guests?

  Soon, she noticed the trailer near her camping pad had also vacated its site, and Molly experienced a wave of sadness. If the occupants of the trailer left the campground, the friendly pup would also be gone. The owners showed no signs of packing up their unit before she left for her walk, but they were efficient and pulled away before she returned. At this, she felt disappointed. From those few interactions she shared with the dog, she enjoyed having it around and as she stood by her tent, her campsite seemed empty.

  She gathered her towel and a change of clothes and hummed an unidentifiable tune. After packing in the heat and setting up the tent the day before, she needed a shower, but after searching her wallet, Molly only found a single quarter. She emptied her dry groceries into the trunk and used the plastic bag to hold her clean clothes and towel, then walked to the office, hoping the attendant would provide change. The owners should, especially if they were emptying the coin collection in the showers every day.

  The same woman who had checked her in sat behind the office desk. She had pivoted her office chair to face away from the door while working on a crossword puzzle.

  “Good morning,” Molly said in a cheerful tone.

  “Morning.” The woman sounded bored, as if she had already said the greeting many times this morning. “Let me know when you’re ready.” She hadn’t even looked up to see who had entered the office.

  Molly took a quick glance around the store. There was nothing inside she wanted, and as she had suspected, they inflated the prices. She approached the desk. “Can I get some coins for the shower, please?”

  The woman tossed her crossword onto her lap and held out her hand to receive Molly’s five-dollar bill. Molly attempted to maintain a neutral but pleasant expression as the woman reached into her cash register and counted out her change. There had been no mention of poor customer service in the campground’s online reviews, but Molly might change that when her trip was over. While the place was clean, the woman at the front desk had yet to show any personality unless that man in the jacket had walked through the door. Now, she wouldn’t even smile or look up at her visitor when Molly walked in and seemed annoyed by Molly’s request.

  At least she had the woman’s attention, and Molly could learn more about the area and ways to spend her day.

  “Which shops would be good to visit in town?” she asked, hoping to get some response out of the woman.

  “Depends on what you’re looking for.”

  Molly wanted to rephrase her question but didn’t bother. She figured the response would be about the same.

  “I guess you’re right.” She looked at the artisan display beside the desk. “What time do the shops close?”

  “Hi, Rick.” The woman’s eyes lit up. Her face, only moments before wearing every expression of boredom, now wore an ear-to-ear smile.

  Molly turned to see the man in the brown jacket standing once again in the doorway. Him again. He leaned relaxed against the doorframe, with one boot crossed in front of the other. It didn’t matter that mud speckled the lower-half of his fitted jeans. His top-half was in a buttoned shirt and gave him a business-like look Molly hadn’t seen him in before. What a difference a shirt made. Perhaps he was the reason this place had excellent reviews, as Molly was ready to give him a five out of five-star rating on appearance alone. Or four and a half stars because of the mud.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Rick said. There were the manners Molly had been looking for yesterday.

  “That’s okay,” the host said, as if it didn’t matter that only moments ago Molly had asked her a question. “I see he’s got you doing mornings again.”

  “Afraid so.” Rick tapped the doorframe, and Molly wondered what his hand would feel like against hers. Would he have rough hands from working outdoors or soft skin like the men who worked in a city office? “Where can I find him?”

  “Site thirty-eight, last I heard.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled at Molly and her stomach fluttered. “Once again, I’m sorry for the interruption. As for shopping… sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. A lot of ladies like to shop at The Lemon Closet. And the shops close at six, but the corner store, restaurant and café are open later. Enjoy your stay.” He uncrossed his ankles and stepped out the door before Molly could thank him for his recommendation.

  Just as the server at the café had said, Rick attracted the women in the town, and Molly was falling under his spell. How could she not with looks and manners? It was the host who had addressed Rick first and avoided answering Molly’s question. If she hadn’t, he might have continued to stand in the doorway waiting for his turn to speak. But he took his time to tell Molly which store to visit, so she would at least check out The Lemon Closet. Maybe the next time she saw him, she would tell him what she thought of his recommendation.

  The host handed Molly her coins and shoved the drawer to the register closed, rattling the desk.

  “Is there anything else?” the woman asked, having snapped out of the man’s spell.

  “No, that is all, thanks,” Molly said. She observed the woman taking one last lustful look at the doorway before resuming her crossword puzzle.

  Molly walked back to the shower facilities and started the shower. She didn’t enjoy using public showers with their misaligned stall doors and the flimsy shower curtains, but the owners had tried to make these as private as possible. They had proper doors between the sink area and the shower changing space. A glass door on the shower stall kept the water from splashing out onto the grated tile floor. Of course, this was the nicest of the three showers. The others needed updating.

  Once a coin dropped through the slot, the water sprayed out at a good pressure and the temperature quickly rose to a pleasant warmth. Molly hopped inside and soon realized she had forgotten to pack shampoo or a bar of soap. A rinse would have to do, and she would need to add the items to her shopping list for her trip into town.

  Cool air crept into the shower stall, chilling her exposed skin. She let the water pour over her scalp as she turned in place, trying to keep the warm water on her skin. And then the water stopped.

  “Already?” Had she been washing her hair, it would have left her with a head covered with suds. The campground must really make a profit on the showers.

  Her limbs shook as she quickly dried herself and attempted to balance on the grated floor on one foot while dressing into her clean clothes. At her campsite, she stuffed her dirty clothes into a garbage bag for a future trip to the laundromat and closed the trunk of her car.

  Clean and dressed, Molly was ready to explore the town. She did not want to deal with the
campground host or pay the outrageous prices, so she thought her best option would be to buy her soap at the general store. While there, she might also check out The Lemon Closet and maybe even get a good cup of coffee from the café.

  Recalling the map, she walked to the lower end of the campground where a wooden bridge extended over the creek. She paused in the middle and gazed over the railing. The water was clear and sparkled in the daylight. Algae had formed over the smooth stones that lined the bottom and sides of the creek. Trees and underbrush stood along the banks, creating a picturesque setting as birds flew above. Now she wished she had brought along her camera to capture the scene. She would not forget it on her next walk.

  After taking in the scene for several minutes, she carried on toward the town. As described by the host, the trail opened out into the residential area behind the campground. The road running along the edge of the forest was dry, except for the damp leaves that covered the shoulder. It was quiet on the road that ran east and west, with another road heading south into the neighborhood.

  With her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, Molly ventured out onto the street. The route seemed straightforward enough, and after what she had seen of the town the night before, she knew it was small. If she became lost, it would be easy to find her way back to the campground. All she would have to do is go north, and if she reached the highway, she would have gone too far. To find the road that she took from the campground to Lemon Grove, she would walk east. For now, she followed the host’s instructions and walked south to the first road, where she turned left.

  A dog barked from a distant backyard in the second or third row of homes. It would seem there were only four streets extending to the east and west. Molly was at the westernmost point of the town, with only four houses remaining on the road to her right. The bulk of the residences were on the east side of the town, which she hadn’t yet explored. The homes she could see looked like cabins, with their dark wooden siding and green rooftops. The owners had constructed fenced yards for gardens with chain-link used to support sunflowers and beans or peas. Nothing in nearby yards appeared expensive, which signaled the residents weren’t rich and the town wasn’t booming. It was a small resort community supporting a quaint, eclectic lifestyle, as confirmed by one home with an excessive number of pinwheels and garden gnomes as garden decor.