Marco and Vivien were at a loss.
“And tweeting?” Priscilla continued as they walked down the street. “I’ve been reading so much about that. Does the phone tweet?”
“Not by itself,” Marco said.
Priscilla stopped in front of a store announcing cell phones for sale.
“I want one,” Priscilla said.
“You don’t need one,” Marco said. “Vivien and I both have one.”
“I think it might be a good idea,” Vivien said. “In case she gets lost.”
“She won’t know how to use it,” Marco said. “Trust me, I haven’t been able to teach either of my parents the first thing about cell phones.”
“It’s probably because you have no patience,” Vivien said.
“What do you mean?” Marco said hotly. “I have plenty of patience. I just think we’re asking for trouble.”
“I’m standing right here,” Priscilla said.
“Oh, sorry, Priscilla,” Marco said.
Priscilla looked across the street and saw two people taking a selfie with their arms outstretched. One of them was holding a bright pink stick.
“What is that?” Priscilla asked.
“That’s a selfie stick,” Vivien said.
“They’re worthless,” Marc said.
“I have one,” Vivien said.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Marco said.
Priscilla dug through her purse and pulled out a credit card.
“Go buy me a phone, please,” she said to Marco.
Marco looked at Vivien.
“You heard her,” Vivien said. “Go buy her a phone.”
“I don’t know what kind of plan you want,” Marco said. “How many gigs you want, how much data...”
“Oh, just guess,” Priscilla said. “That’s what I’d be doing.”
Priscilla, Clay, and Vivien continued sightseeing and taking selfies. In a half hour, Marco returned with a phone. Priscilla took it carefully in her hands.
“Somebody call me,” Priscilla said.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Marco said. “You have to charge it.”
“Oh, with a wire?” Priscilla asked. “I see wires running all over the truck attached to your phones. Do I have my own wire?”
Marco looked at Vivien. She tried not to laugh.
“Should we get something to eat?” Marco asked.
Vivien saw Priscilla’s mood darken.
“I don’t know,” Priscilla said. “Why don’t you two go get something and I’ll wait here?”
“Here?” Marco asked. “On the street?”
“I’ll sit on the bench over there,” Priscilla said, pointing. “I love Route 66. I’ll be fine.”
Vivien realized that Priscilla was anxious about going into a restaurant.
“Why don’t Marco and I grab some takeout food and we’ll go eat in Shrimpfork?” Vivien offered.
Vivien was trying to be an adult about this, but she was a tiny bit smug that she’d figured this out instead of the oh-so-sensitive Marco. She saw his mouth tighten. He too knew she’d won this one.
Marco and Vivien selected a Mexican restaurant with a large window, so they could keep an eye on Priscilla.
“What should we order?” Marco said.
“What does she like?” Vivien asked.
“You live with her,” Marco said.
Vivien was about to say, “we’ve never eaten together,” but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Having lived literally in the woman’s backyard, the fact they’d never had more than a cup of tea together seemed odd.
She settled on: “You bring her groceries.”
Back at Shrimpfork, they dug into homemade tamales.
Afterward, Priscilla stood up and went into the shower-bathroom, much to Vivien’s surprise and Marco’s horror.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Priscilla said. “And we can be on our way.”
Marco and Vivien quickly cleaned up the leftover plates, cups, and food, and made excuses to give the lady some space.
“Hey,” Marco said. “Thanks for backing me up back there.”
“Where?”
“At the house,” Marco said. “Helping me convince Priscilla she needed to see this through.”
Vivien remembered how gentle Marco had been with Priscilla.
“Oh?” Vivien said. “I thought you backed me up.”
Marco looked at her sharply. She smiled. Maybe she should try to have an open mind about Marco. Innocent until proven guilty? He smiled back. Had she ever seen him smile? Maybe he was thinking the same thing about her.
“I’m all set,” Priscilla called out the window. “That toilet is just amazing!”
Marco and Vivien stared at her. They’d tried to be so discreet, racing off and giving her some privacy. It appeared that was not going to be necessary in the future. Her hippie ways seemed to be returning rather quickly.
Chapter 22
They rolled into the RV park near Smith Lake long after the sun went down. Vivien had called ahead and announced their late arrival. It was a small park, and the owner said the office would be closed by then, and to just pull her rig into space thirteen. As Marco pulled into the place, Vivien told him to dim his lights—it was customary in the RV world to only use the daytime running lights while traveling down the gravel paths after dark.
It only took a minute to find their spot. Vivien watched from the back of the cab as Marco put on the brakes and stared at the narrow space flanked by two huge RVs on either side. He turned off the motor and got out. Priscilla looked back at Vivien.
“Is everything all right?” Priscilla asked.
“I’ll go check,” Vivien said, although she knew exactly what was wrong.
She could see on Marco’s face that he had no idea how he was going to sandwich the truck and the tiny house into the maddeningly slender space thirteen. She knew the look—she’d worn it so many times herself!
“Do you want me to park?” Vivien said.
“No!” Marco said. “I’m just scoping things out.”
“Well, scope fast,” Vivien said. “It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold.”
“Whatever,” Marco said, turning from her and stalking around the truck and the tiny house.
Vivien waited. She could hear his footsteps crunching on the gravel. He finally returned to where she was standing.
“Fine. Go ahead,” he said, adding, Vivien suspected, to save face, “I’ll guide you in.”
“No worries,” Vivien said. “I’ve got this.”
She was glad the darkness hid her smirk. She jumped in the truck. She turned toward Priscilla in the passenger seat.
“Don’t you worry, Priscilla,” Vivien said. “I’ve done this a thousand times. Well, five times.”
“I’m not worried at all,” Priscilla said. “You always seem to know what you’re doing.”
Vivien flushed. As ridiculous as this road trip was, she was happy to be along to keep an eye on things. It made her very happy to know Priscilla had faith in her.
Vivien inched Marco’s seat forward and easily maneuvered Shrimpfork into place. Marco stood just outside the passenger window. Priscilla rolled down the window. Vivien leaned over and called to him.
“It was easy,” Vivien said. “You’ll get used to it. And if not, I can take over every night.”
“Vivien is just a marvel, isn’t she?” Priscilla added.
“That’s one word for it,” Marco groused.
“Grab the flashlight,” she instructed Marco. “I’ll need help leveling the house.”
Marco did what he was told. Once Shrimpfork was secured, they all piled into the house. Vivien let the ladder down from the ceiling, scrambled up, and put her hands on a large duffle bag. She leaned her head over the edge.
“Clear the way,” Vivien said. “Tent coming down.”
She hoisted the duffle bag over the edge, where it landed with a resounding thud. Clay scrambled up onto the futon at the sound.
“Oh my,” Priscilla said, putting her hand to her throat. “That was certainly dramatic.”
“See you ladies in the morning.” Marco picked up the bag and opened the door.
Vivien started down the ladder but Priscilla called up to her.
“No need to come down,” Priscilla said. “You’ve had a long day. Clay and I can make up the futon.”
“Are you sure?” Vivien said.
“You inspire me with your independence,” Priscilla said. “You have something we only dreamed about when I was growing up. The least I can do is make my own bed.”
Vivien thought about Priscilla’s words for a few minutes. Then fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning, Vivien’s sense of smell was the first to awaken. She sniffed the air, as the aroma of bacon winged its way into the loft. Her hearing caught up immediately—there was no denying that sizzle. She hit the remote, rolled off the mattress, and crawled along the edge of the loft. She couldn’t see into the kitchen, but Priscilla was not on the futon. Was she cooking? And where did she get bacon?
At the sound of the ladder descending, Priscilla came over to the living area, fork in hand. She looked up.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Priscilla called up. “I made bacon and eggs. I couldn’t remember if you were one of those vegan people.”
“I’m not,” Vivien said, as she climbed down the ladder.
She’d toyed with the idea from time to time, but her stomach was grateful this morning she’d stuck to her less than perfect eating habits. She thought about the last time she’d had bacon—moments before she picked up her tiny house and her whole life had changed.
“Where did all this come from?” Vivien asked.
She sat on the ladder, looking at the kitchen counter covered with breakfast trimmings. Hilda was perched on one of the shelves, taking in the action with her one eye.
“Marco found a little store in the park,” Priscilla said. “He was up early, poor dear. He forgot some sort of sleeping pad that goes under his sleeping bag.”
“That’s too bad.”
“We didn’t have anything like that when I was bumming around the country,” Priscilla said. “We were lucky if we even had a tent.”
Vivien smiled. She kept forgetting this tiny lady had a whole life before Vivien was even born.
The front door opened. Clay bounded in, followed by Marco.
“Was he a good boy?” Priscilla asked as she bent to give Clay a kiss.
“You know, they always say a dog is a great way to meet women,” Marco said. “No lie! Clay scoped out girls from every corner of the park.”
Vivien ignored the tiny twist of jealousy in her stomach. She returned her attention to the food. There was orange juice and bacon, now sitting on the counter with a towel over it while Priscilla scrambled eggs. Vivien couldn’t believe Priscilla could cook so much at the same time with just one miniscule counter. Not to mention, Priscilla was used to cooking in a huge kitchen.
Priscilla handed out the food, plus orange juice and coffee. Vivien was glad she’d kept three full place settings—absolutely every utensil she had in the place was in use.
Vivien stayed seated on the ladder, balancing her plate on her lap and her juice glass on a rung. She looked at Marco and Priscilla sitting on the futon, Clay at their feet, alert to any scrap that might come his way.
We look like a little family.
Vivien took a quick sip of juice. She was here to keep an eye on an innocent woman who might be in the clutches of a charming con artist. Did she just think Marco was charming? That’s how con artists worked. She doubled down on her resolve to stay alert.
Priscilla stood up and started to take her plate into the kitchen. Vivien bounded off the ladder.
“Oh no,” Vivien said. “You’ve done enough. I’ll clean up.”
“Thank you, dear,” Priscilla said.
Vivien took the plate and cup from Priscilla. She looked over at Marco, who was still sitting on the futon. He lifted his plate to signal he was finished. She was not going to take the three steps it would take to go get his plate. He could bring it to the kitchen himself.
Except there was no room in the kitchen for two people. They stared at each other. Priscilla, who didn’t appear to notice the impasse, suddenly spoke up.
“I think I’ll step outside,” Priscilla said.
Marco and Vivien turned their full attention to her. She was going outside? By herself?
“Do you want me to go with you?” Marco asked.
“No, that’s all right,” Priscilla said in a tiny voice. She took Hilda off the kitchen shelf and headed toward the door. “I’m not going to go far. I just…”
She didn’t finish her thought.
“What about Clay?” Vivien said. “You could take him.”
“I hope I have more confidence in my ability to step out the door than you two have in me,” Priscilla said. “I just need to take a few moments to myself to collect my thoughts.”
A tiny house could do that to you, Vivien thought.
“Here,” Priscilla said, handing Hilda to Vivien. “I want to try this alone.”
“Are you sure?” Vivien asked.
“No,” Priscilla said, looking straight ahead at the open door. “But there’s a whole world out there, isn’t there?”
Vivien took possession of Hilda. She hadn’t held the doll since unearthing her in the attic. She and Marco watched Priscilla walk out the door. Vivien put Hilda on the ladder and made for the door at the same time Marco did. They collided in the doorframe like two stooges.
Vivien stepped back and looked at Marco, hands on hips.
“Should I follow her?” Marco asked.
“You mean, while I do the dishes?”
“It’s your house,” Marco said. “And your dishes. Besides, Priscilla is my responsibility, not yours.”
“On what planet?”
“This one.”
Clay seemed agitated at the raised voices. He started whimpering.
“It’s okay, boy,” Marco said, patting the dog. “She’ll calm down in a minute.”
Not to be one-upped, Vivien started patting him too.
“You’re a good dog,” Vivien said. “A pure spirit with no alternative motives.”
“I agree. I appreciate that you mind your own business,” Marco added, thumping the dog’s chest.
Clay went crazy with all the attention. He reared up on his hind legs, tail wagging furiously.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. Clay bumped into the ladder.
Marco and Vivien saw Hilda teeter, then crash to the floor.
Chapter 23
Clay was first to reach the doll. As he started sniffing, Marco and Vivien finally snapped into action.
“I think she’s okay,” Marco said, as he gently lifted Hilda off the floor.
“Let me see,’ Vivien said, reaching out her hand.
Marco handed the doll to Vivien. Hilda’s one eye gazed up at them accusingly. But the back of her head, which had cracked like an eggshell, remained in Marco’s hand.
“Oh, no!” Vivien said. “Oh no!”
“We have to do something,” Marco said.
“Oh, no!”
“We don’t?”
“Oh, no!” Vivien tried to form words. “I mean, yes, we do. But what?”
Clay ran to the window and started his famous wiggle. Marco, half of Hilda’s head still in his hands, looked out the window.
“Priscilla is right outside,” Marco said. “She didn’t get very far.”
“She hasn’t left her own h
ouse in years,” Vivien said. “Why is that a surprise?”
“She’s talking to some people,” Marco said, ignoring her snark.
“That happens in a tiny house.”
“Can this not be about you?”
“I’m just saying!”
Marco ran back to Vivien and took Hilda back.
“Be careful!”
“Famous last words.”
Marco fitted the two pieces together.
“It’s a clean break,” he said. “Maybe we could glue her back together.”
“Maybe,” Vivien said. “If we had some glue.”
“You don’t have glue?”
“I live in sixty-four square feet!” Vivien said.
“You have a selfie stick, but you don’t have glue?” Marco asked. “Don’t you have a toolbox?”
“Yes, but…”
“Did you put the tool kit together or did it come with the house?” Marco asked. “I’ll bet a million to one, it came with the house.”
“It came with the house.” Vivien admitted.
“Then I can guarantee you, it has a hammer, a wrench, duct tape, and glue.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Can you look?”
Vivien ran to the kitchen and pulled a small red box from under the sink. She opened it, ready to show Marco she had no glue.
Except she did have glue.
If the cosmos was messing with her by breaking the doll, she owed it thanks for giving her a tube of glue.
The two of them worked frantically.
“We need something to hold her together while the glue sets,” Marco said.
Clay scratched at the window. This time it was Vivien’s turn to go look outside.
“She’s coming back!”
She and Marco looked desperately at each other. Like it or not, they were in this together.
“We can’t tell her,” Marco said. “Not for us, but for her.”
Vivien knew he meant it. She felt a bit guilty. She was happy not to tell—for herself.
“Hang on,” Vivien said, bolting past Marco into the loft, then racing back down.
“Here,” Vivien said. She held out a bright yellow sock.
“I’m already wearing socks,” Marco said, puzzled.
Tiny House on the Road Page 14
