Priscilla wondered if she were about to be fired. It wouldn’t be surprising if Marco was part of that decision. She looked over at Marco, who looked upset. He certainly wouldn’t have that look on his face if Vivien were being given the axe. It must be something else.
“Is Priscilla all right?” Vivien asked in alarm, hurrying after him.
“She’s insane,” Marco said.
Thoughts of Priscilla never leaving her house, her germ-a-phobia, channeling Janis Joplin, and being delighted at the unearthing of the world’s ugliest doll flashed through Vivien’s mind.
“More insane than usual?” Vivien asked.
“You know,” Marco said, whirling on her. Even in the dark, Vivien could see his eyes flash. “Everything was fine until you got here. Now you’ve put this crazy idea in her head.”
“What crazy idea?” Vivien asked.
“As if you didn’t know,” he said.
Vivien followed Marco across the yard without another word. She had no idea what he was talking about—and even if she did, she didn’t owe him any explanation. Marco opened the kitchen door and waited for her to proceed.
At least he has some manners.
Clay was chomping down his dog food in the kitchen. Whatever was going on didn’t seem to be affecting his appetite.
“She’s in the dining room,” Marco said.
Marco led the way. Priscilla was at one end of the long table. The doll, Horrible Hilda, as Vivien now thought of her, was sitting on the table in front of Priscilla. The doll’s one bright eye trained on Vivien. Vivien noticed Priscilla was not wearing her gloves. She must have spent the afternoon disinfecting the doll—although Horrible Hilda still looked as bedraggled as ever.
“What’s up?” Vivien asked.
Vivien watched Marco take a seat at the table. She sat opposite him, but kept her eyes on Priscilla.
“I was just telling Marco about your wonderful idea,” Priscilla said. She shot a glance at Marco. “It was not well received.”
“What wonderful idea is that?” Vivien asked.
“Do you have so many of them, it’s hard to keep track?” Marco snarled.
Vivien ignored him. She waited for Priscilla to speak.
“Why, to take Hilda to San Diego so the Colonel can see her,” Priscilla said.
Vivien sputtered as Marco glared at him. She tried to keep her voice calm.
“I don’t…” Vivien started. “I don’t recall that exact wonderful idea.”
“You said the Colonel had never seen anything quite like Hilda,” Priscilla said.
“I…” Vivien faltered. She swallowed and finished her thought. “And I stand by that statement.”
“You were very encouraging about showing Hilda to him.” Priscilla wagged her finger coyly.
“Yes, but that’s when he was going to be in Taos,” Vivien said, realizing she was saying this to Marco.
“Do you think Hilda will be less interesting in San Diego?” Priscilla asked.
“Well, no, but…” Vivien appealed to Marco.
Marco sat stonily in his chair.
“Then it’s settled,” Priscilla said. “If we leave tomorrow, we can get there in time for the show. I looked in the atlas. We’ll only have to stop twice.”
“What do you mean, stop twice?” Vivien gasped. “Are we driving?”
“I think your truck has plenty of room for me and Hilda,” Priscilla said. “And Clay, of course.”
“Clay is coming?” Vivien asked.
A loud thumping came from somewhere near her feet. Vivien looked under the table. It was Clay smacking his tail up and down at the sound of his name. Without meaning to, Vivien looked at Marco for help.
“Priscilla doesn’t fly,” Marco said.
Until today, Priscilla didn’t leave the house!
“This seems a bit hasty,” Vivien said. “Maybe we should start with something smaller…like a trip to Sandstone.”
“Another wonderful idea!” Priscilla beamed.
Vivien saw that Marco looked as relieved as she felt.
“We’ll go into Sandstone tomorrow on our way to San Diego,” Priscilla said. “We can pick up some snacks for the road.”
“But what about hotels?” Vivien said carefully. “I’ve noticed you’re very careful about…hygiene.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” Priscilla said, deflated. “I could never stay in a hotel.”
Vivien breathed easier. Was it possible she’d talked Priscilla out of this madness?
“Maybe when the Colonel does another show here in town,” Marco said. “We can take…” He pointed to the doll.
“Hilda,” Priscilla said.
“We can take Hilda to meet him then,” Marco said.
“Or,” Priscilla said. “We can take her to San Diego. In the tiny house.”
“My tiny house?” Vivien choked.
“It’s the perfect solution,” Priscilla said. “You said so yourself.”
“I didn’t—” Vivien started.
“You said I wouldn’t be happy in hotels,” Priscilla said. “And you are very, very right about that!”
Priscilla beamed at Marco and Vivien.
“But you can’t climb up to the sleeping loft,” Vivien said.
“I can sleep on the couch,” Priscilla said.
“It’s a futon,” Vivien said. “A pretty small futon.”
“I’m a pretty small person,” Priscilla said. “So it’s all settled?”
Vivien shot a look to Marco, which she hoped conveyed, “I can use some help here.”
“I’m not sure this is the greatest idea,” Marco said. “It’s been a long time since you’ve taken a road trip. I mean, I can’t remember you ever taking one.”
“Well, you keep saying I should get out more,” Priscilla said.
“I meant to the mailbox!” Marco said. “Or into town.”
“You two are such downers!” Priscilla said.
Marco and Vivien looked at each other.
Did Priscilla just call them downers?
“Look, Priscilla,” Marco said. “If you are really dead set on going to San Diego, I think it would be better if I took you.”
“What?” Vivien said, hotly.
“Not that I don’t trust Vivien,” he said.
“Which is code for you don’t trust me,” Vivien said under her breath.
“So, if you’ll agree to stay in hotels as a compromise,” Marco said. “I’ll drive us.”
“I don’t know,” Priscilla said slowly.
The gauntlet has been thrown.
“Never mind,” Vivien said. “I’m happy to take you, Priscilla. I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable in Shrimpfork.”
Priscilla clapped her hands like a young girl. Marco stood up.
“I’m working at the store tomorrow,” Marco said. “Have a nice trip.”
Marco bolted from the table.
“I’m just going to see him out,” Vivien said, as she shot out of the room.
“He knows his way out,” Priscilla called after her.
Vivien touched Marco’s shoulder just as he reached the kitchen door.
“You can’t possibly think this is my idea!” Vivien said.
“All I know is you somehow put it in Priscilla’s head that a trip to San Diego is a good idea,” Marco said. “And now she’s going.”
“I did not put that idea in her head,” Vivien said.
“You found that ugly doll,” Marco said. “You’re accountable.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Vivien said. “Besides, you said you’d take her if I didn’t.”
“The lesser of two evils.”
“The devil you know?”
“Maybe.”
“You know what? I’ll take
Priscilla to San Diego. And have that Colonel look at the Cyclops Priscilla calls Hilda. Who knows, maybe Hilda is worth a zillion dollars?”
“Maybe,” Marco said. “And what would your commission be on that?”
Marco let himself out. Vivien stared after him.
“Is everything all right?” Priscilla’s voice was close.
Vivien turned around to see her, holding Hilda, standing in the doorway.
“I thought I heard shouting,” Priscilla said, a small tremor in her voice.
“It was nothing,” Vivien said, feeling terrible that she’d upset Priscilla. “Marco was just saying goodbye.”
“You better get some sleep.” Priscilla sounded suddenly much stronger. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow getting ready for our trip.”
Vivien walked back toward Shrimpfork. The thought of Priscilla, Horrible Hilda, and Clay spending the next few days traveling west made the house seem even smaller.
She would never have dreamed such a thing were possible.
Chapter 19
Vivien laid the arms of the futon flat and lay down on it, trying to get some sense of its comfort level as a bed. Taking Priscilla to San Diego was an insane idea, but she’d agreed to do it.
This is all Marco’s fault.
She heard Clay’s footsteps crunching toward her tiny house. The footsteps were followed by a knock. Clay might know how to high-five, but she doubted the knock came from him. She jumped up and answered the door. It was Priscilla with two mugs in her hands. Clay threaded his way into the house before Priscilla even spoke.
“I brought tea,” Priscilla said.
As she relieved Priscilla of the mugs and offered her hand to help the older woman into the house, Vivien realized Priscilla was wearing her rubber gloves.
“I thought we might go over our plans,” Priscilla said.
“Good idea,” Vivien said.
Vivien realized she’d spent so much time being outraged at Marco, she really hadn’t made any plans.
Vivien joined Clay on the far end of the futon and gestured to Priscilla to sit down.
“This is…” Priscilla studied the tiny space. “Certainly is going to be cozy.”
“Thanks for the tea,” Vivien said, skirting the issues of the coziness of her tiny space.
“Are you going to have to pack everything up?” Priscilla asked.
“Pack everything up?” Vivien asked, looking at her little home with new eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Well, won’t you have to take everything off the counters in the kitchen, and take those dishes and mugs off the shelf?” Priscilla said, then peered into the bathroom. “And put your toiletries in a box?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Vivien said, with the sinking realization that she would.
“Good thing you’re a wiz at organization,” Priscilla said.
“Good thing,” Vivien said gloomily.
“I was thinking,” Priscilla said.
“Yes?” Vivien tried to control her panic. Priscilla’s thinking had serious consequences. This was not a thinker to be trifled with.
“I was thinking,” Priscilla said. “Perhaps I could bring a few more items for the Colonel to examine. That is, if you have space….”
Vivien’s initial thought was:
Do I look like I have space? This place is sixty-four square feet and it’s going to be you, me and a hundred-pound dog. That’s just over twenty-one square feet apiece.
But she said:
“What are you thinking of bringing?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Priscilla said, settling back. “This is all so new and exciting.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“I have a few old photograph albums I thought he might enjoy.”
Vivien cringed. Did Priscilla think the Colonel was going to have some personal interest in her life? She supposed that must happen a lot with celebrities—fans feeling as if they knew you and vice versa. Now that she was going through with this insane plan, she wanted to protect Priscilla from disappointment. She took a sip of tea to fortify herself. She looked across the futon at the little hopeful face, almost vibrating with excitement.
Vivien just didn’t have the heart to dissuade Priscilla. While she hoped with her entire being that Priscilla would back out of going, Vivien understood how much courage it was taking on Priscilla’s part to keep inching forward. And as things stood, Vivien was banking on not getting into see the Colonel in the first place. What harm could it be bringing an album or two?
“Just don’t forget space is going to be tight,” Vivien finally said.
“How could I forget that?” Priscilla said, looking around. “I better let you go. You and I both have a lot to do before we head out.”
Vivien nodded.
“Do you need me to bring my atlas?” Priscilla asked.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Vivien said gently, draining her teacup. Priscilla’s education of the modern world was not going to start with a lesson on satellites and how global positioning worked. She wagged the teacup at Priscilla. “I’ll wash this and bring it back in the morning.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Priscilla said, extending her hand. “I’ll take it now. You have plenty to do.”
Vivien gave Priscilla the cup and helped her down the steps. She smiled as she watched Priscilla pick her way back to the main house, Clay protectively at her side. She closed the front door and something in the trashcan caught her eye.
It was Priscilla’s protective gloves.
Vivien sighed and evaluated Shrimpfork’s interior. Priscilla was right. There was no way she could hitch the place to the truck and just go. She’d need to do a very thorough job of battening down the tiny hatches. Of course, just like everything else about living tiny, she wasn’t able to lay her hands on a spare box or two, since there weren’t any. She knew Priscilla’s attic was full of them. She’d emptied at least twenty herself. She looked through her window toward the main house. The lights in Casa de Promesas were on. She wouldn’t be disturbing Priscilla if she just went in and grabbed a few boxes. As she headed over the back lawn, she stopped short. She wouldn’t want Priscilla to think she didn’t have a handle on every aspect of this trip. The old woman was probably scared enough! She checked her iPhone for the time. It was 8:30. Too late to run into sleepy Sandstone for a box-run, but there had to be stores or restaurants in Taos that were still open—or big enough that they had a few errant boxes stacked in their alleys. Checking her pocket for the truck keys, she did an about-face and headed to the driveway instead.
Vivien headed down the drive, bounding along in the dark. She had so much on her mind! Lists of what needed to be packed, food that needed to be purchased (would Priscilla bring dog food or should she buy some? And if so, what kind?), maybe an extra battery charger. It occurred to her she wasn’t sure which way she was supposed to turn to get to Taos. She grabbed her iPhone and searched the screen for the Google Maps icon. The iPhone suddenly flew out of her hand and smashed against the windshield as if grabbed by a demon diva having a tantrum. The truck rocketed, jerked, and stopped dead. With shaking hands, Vivien unhooked her seatbelt and let herself down out of the tilted truck. She fought back tears as she realized Taos wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t remembered.
She’d forgotten about the ditch.
It was too dark to see any damage, but she could see that the truck was a lot higher on one side. The demon diva was not done with her yet.
Sniffling from nerves, but otherwise unhurt, Vivien walked back to Shrimpfork. She stared at her phone. She wanted to share her misfortune with someone, but couldn’t decide with whom. Should she call her parents? No, they’d be as unnerved as she—and would beg her to come home and give up her crazy plans (and they weren’t even in the San Diego loop yet). Priscilla? What good would that do? Marco?
Ha! As if he’d care! Besides, she only had the number for his store, not his cell.
No, she was in this alone.
She sighed when she got back on the grounds of Casa de Promesas. Should she go tell Priscilla that the trip was off? Whatever was wrong with her truck was not going to be fixed by morning—and even a day’s delay would make it impossible to get to This Old Thing? in time. A huge part of her was relieved that she’d found an organic, honorable way out of the trip, but a tiny part of her was disappointed—for Priscilla.
She didn’t even bother to climb into the loft. Stretching out on the futon, she fell immediately asleep.
A frantic knocking on the door woke her out of a sound sleep. The sun poured through the window, announcing it was morning—should the knocking not be enough of a clue. Vivien stumbled to the door to find Marco, looking annoyed, Clay, looking antsy, and Priscilla, looking anxious, standing there, staring at her.
“Marco said he saw your truck in the ditch this morning!” Priscilla said, wringing her hands.
“Foiled escape attempt?” Marco asked.
“Yes,” Vivien said, coming outside. “I was escaping without my house. I thought Priscilla might like to have it as a lawn ornament.”
“Oh, that’s very sweet of you,” Priscilla said. “But I prefer cactus.”
“I was kidding,” Vivien said. “I wasn’t leaving you.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Priscilla said with an uncertain smile.
“Then what were you doing?” Marco asked.
“I was going to get some boxes last night, if you must know,” Vivien said. “And I ran into the ditch. I figured I’d wait until morning to see what the damage was.”
“Marco found the truck. He came by to say goodbye to us,” Priscilla said. “Which was very sweet of him, don’t you think?”
“Very sweet,” Vivien said, glaring at Marco. “But obviously we aren’t going anywhere, so you don’t have to say goodbye.”
“I don’t think we should be such Gloomy Gusses about this just yet,” Priscilla said. “The truck might be just fine.”
“The truck isn’t fine,” Vivien and Marco said together.
“I called my cousin,” Marco said. “He’s got a garage in town. He’ll tow the truck in and we’ll see what the damage is.”
Tiny House on the Road Page 12
