Marco and Vivien, along with the crowd of thousands, watched as the Colonel dashed toward the tiny woman and swooped her into the air. Vivien couldn’t believe two old people could kiss with so much passion.
And on TV, no less.
“I can’t believe this,” the Colonel said.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me,” Priscilla said.
Vivien could see the audience members pointing their cell phones at the couple.
“Corny?” Vivien asked Marco.
Marco shook his head.
Franklin was suddenly standing in the center of the semi-circle of podiums.
“Thanks for joining us, everybody,” Franklin said. “Looks like we’ve all been surprised by This Old Thing?”
Vivien narrowed her eyes. Was he talking about Priscilla? But Priscilla looked like a flushed ingénue, beaming up at the Colonel who was smoothing her hair.
In this room of thousands, the two of them only had eyes for each other.
She turned to Marco.
She knew how Priscilla felt.
Chapter 29
The lights went out. People started shouting. Vivien found herself being manhandled. She could hear Marco saying, “Get off me, dude.” He was obviously in the same predicament. Even in the dark, she could make out the Colonel’s voice.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
Vivien prayed he was talking to Priscilla.
“Bring Hilda,” Priscilla said.
Vivien trusted Priscilla wasn’t talking to her, because Vivien found herself being spirited away. She hoped whomever was being tasked with bringing Hilda remembered both parts of her head.
Vivien’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. She could make out the figures of the Colonel, Priscilla, and Marco ahead of her, being escorted quickly down a hallway. She wondered if they were being kidnapped. But why? Maybe Hilda really was valuable. But if that were the case, why would the Colonel crack her poor little head open? Vivien knew there was nothing inside the doll—but maybe the Colonel thought there was?
A door opened, flooding the area around her with light. The little group was ushered into some sort of small conference room.
“There’s craft services in the corner, Colonel,” one of their guides said, pointing to a table laden with cookies, pastries, brownies, and a bucket filled with ice and artistically arranged soft drinks.
In seconds, it was just the four of them in the room. She turned to Marco, who opened the door—it was unlocked. He put his arm around her.
“I guess we could go if we wanted,” Marco said.
“I wouldn’t suggest that, young man,” the Colonel said. “It’ll be bedlam out there.”
“Why?” Marco asked. “What just happened?”
“In a nutshell,” the Colonel said. “If the stage goes dark ahead of schedule, it’s not good.”
Vivien looked around the room. When she was taking classes to get ready to be the Organization Oracle, she’d studied a bit about design. Whomever decorated this room seemed to have taken the same course. One wall was painted black, to signal power and formality, while a built-in—and very expensive—water-wall was meant to instill calm.
Vivien felt anything but calm. She looked over to see how Priscilla was handling things. Vivien was worried that all this insane activity was too much for her. Priscilla and the Colonel were sitting on a love seat in a corner, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. Priscilla seemed incredibly calm for someone whose regulated existence was just upended.
Maybe this was business as usual for Priscilla when she was out in the world?
No wonder she locked herself away in Sandstone.
There were so many questions, Vivien wasn’t even sure where to begin. Maybe “How do you know the Colonel…correction…Corny”?
She could see Hilda, wearing her yellow stocking cap, safely tucked into Priscilla’s large bag, her accusatory eye staring at Vivien. The cap dipped a little on the cracked side. Priscilla must have been guarding Hilda’s dignity—although when she had the time to toss the cap back on her was anyone’s guess.
Poor doll. She’s really been through it these last few days.
Vivien was surprised to find she had any feeling about the doll other than the usual sense of being creeped out. She had to admit, she was feeling a little protective. At least she knew the doll was safe. Of course, that was the least of her worries. Vivien didn’t even know where they were.
She turned back to Marco, who was now studying the junk food. He seemed to feel her eyes on him, because he turned around after selecting a brownie.
“If you can’t beat ’em,” he said, with a shrug.
Priscilla’s phone suddenly started blasting “Ball and Chain.”
“That must be the phone call I missed earlier,” Priscilla said, as if her phone going off in the middle of a TV show and causing mayhem was the most natural thing in the world.
“Who has Priscilla’s phone number?” Marco asked Vivien.
Vivien shrugged. This was just one more puzzle piece.
Priscilla answered the phone, silencing Janis Joplin mid-wail.
“Hello…? Oh, that’s fine,” Priscilla said calmly. “Thank you for calling.”
Priscilla looked up to find Vivien, Marco, and the Colonel staring at her.
“That was Melanie,” Priscilla said. “She just wanted to make sure Clay wasn’t allergic to chicken.”
The door to the room banged open. A woman in a gray business suit, followed by the tall man called Franklin came in.
“What the hell was that?” Devora said, ignoring everyone in the room but the Colonel.
“What the hell is this?” the Colonel said mildly, extending his arms to include the room.
“This,” Devora mimicked the Colonel’s gesture, “is damage control.”
“Oh please,” the Colonel said, but didn’t get up from the couch. “You couldn’t be happier the way this played out.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Devora said.
“Killing the lights was a stroke of genius. You made our little cable show look like something out of The Hunger Games.”
“I really had no choice,” Devora said.
“You could have merely called ‘Cut!’” the Colonel said.
He stood up and advanced toward Devora and Franklin. Vivien noticed that although the Colonel was several inches shorter and a thousand years older than Franklin, the younger man took a step back. The Colonel stood in front of Devora, who looked him straight in the eye.
“We all know what’s going on here,” the Colonel said.
“I don’t,” Marco whispered to Vivien, who poked him in the ribs to be silent. She didn’t want to miss a thing.
“Oh?” Devora said. “Why don’t you let us all in on it, then.”
“Gladly,” the Colonel said. “Let’s see… Oh yes, let’s start with Franklin picking an unspeakably ugly and worthless doll to be the big finale for our show.”
Vivien and Marco looked protectively toward Priscilla, in case the assessment of Hilda was too harsh for her to hear. But Priscilla was hanging on the Colonel’s every word.
“It’s rude of you to detain my guests,” the Colonel said. “So I’ll cut to the chase.”
“Please do,” Devora said. “Franklin and I have dinner with Loren in a half hour.”
The Colonel chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Devora asked.
“Just the irony of the situation,” the Colonel said. “Ten years ago, you sent Simon packing and took me to dinner with the network exec to take my place as the new host of This Old Thing? I’d think in a decade you might have come up with a new approach, at least.”
“If it’s not broken, why fix it?” Devora said with a tight smile. “Loren is young. He wasn’t around for the
last—”
“Coup?” the Colonel asked.
“Changing of the guard,” Devora offered.
“Touché,” the Colonel said.
Vivien heard herself gasp. Although it was clear there was an electrical charge of animosity running between the Colonel and this woman, there seemed to be something else going on. It wasn’t sexual tension. It wasn’t antagonism.
It was respect for the competition.
“Look, Colonel,” Devora said, addressing the Colonel as if they were alone in the room. “We had a good run….”
“You mean I’ve had a good run,” the Colonel said. “You, apparently are still running.”
Devora inclined her head as if to say, “Well, yes.”
“Look, darling, I took a chance on you when you were getting along in years,” Devora said as she glanced at Priscilla. “Although I clearly had no idea, how far along.”
“Let’s keep this between us, shall we?” the Colonel growled.
“Fine,” Devora said. “I set you up, you countered.”
“I had something to do with this too, you know,” Franklin said.
“Shut up, Franklin,” Devora said, without taking her eyes off the Colonel.
“That was quite a scene you put on out there,” Devora said to the Colonel. “Although how you pulled it off is beyond me. A little over-the-top for my tastes, but it will probably be good for you in the tabloids for a minute or two.”
Vivien shot Marco a glance. Did Devora think Priscilla was planted on purpose?
“Well, at least you enjoyed the show,” the Colonel said.
“Darling.” Devora smiled warmly.
Devora stepped forward and touched the Colonel’s hand. Vivien was confused. Was this all some kind of game? Devora’s eyes sparkled warmly.
“You’re fired,” Devora said.
Vivien’s mouth dropped open. Marco squeezed her hand. Nothing made any sense. She looked at Priscilla again. Priscilla was holding Hilda’s hand. Vivien instinctively took a step toward her, but the door burst open. A man in a suit rushed in.
“Loren!” Devora said brightly. “I thought we said we’d meet—”
“Who is that?” Marco whispered to Vivien.
“I think that’s the network guy,” Vivien said.
“I know, I know,” Loren said, waving his hand to dismiss Devora’s comment. “But I wanted to congratulate the man of the hour.”
Franklin beamed and put out his hand.
Loren ignored him and went to the Colonel, pumping his hand heartily.
“Brilliant!” Loren said. “Just brilliant!”
The Colonel blinked. Vivien saw him just bow his head—and wondered if the Colonel was being quiet out of humility—or confusion.
“One does what one can,” the Colonel finally offered.
“Only one misstep to your brilliant show,” Loren said. “We’re going to have to pay a fortune for the unauthorized use of ‘Ball and Chain.’ I wish you’d run that by me. But I’ll let that go. It was a flawless performance.”
Loren took in Marco, Priscilla, and Vivien. He smiled graciously.
“A brilliant performance by all of you,” Loren added.
“What are you talking about, Loren?” Devora asked, teeth clenched in a smile.
“Social media is blowing up,” Loren said. “Video of that whole doll thing is everywhere!”
“What do you mean?” Devora asked, astonished. “Who released footage? I’ll have their…”
Vivien leaned forward.
Their jobs? Their heads?
“Nothing official,” Loren said. “Videos from audience members. On their phones.”
“You can make movies on your phone?” Priscilla asked from the couch. Vivien and Marco took the opportunity to go sit with her.
“That’s strictly prohibited,” Devora said, ignoring Priscilla.
Devora was trying to sound in control, looking to Franklin for support. Franklin, very quietly, took a step away from her.
“You can’t stop it,” Loren said, then turned back to the Colonel. “But why am I telling you, you old fox. And laying a kiss on the older woman when you had a hottie right there?”
Vivien flushed.
I’m the hottie?
“Female demographics of the forty-five and older set are going through the roof,” Loren said. “Way to play to the audience!”
“It was a long shot,” Devora said. “But we thought it was worth it. I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“Pleased?” Loren said. “I’m ecstatic!”
Loren turned back to the Colonel.
“You’re coming to dinner, I hope,” Loren said. “You and these amazing friends of yours.”
Vivien, Marco, and Priscilla all looked at the Colonel from the couch. Were they all going to dinner?
“I’m sorry,” the Colonel said. “I’m busy.”
“Sure,” Loren said. “A private celebration. Well, you deserve it.”
“I think I do deserve it,” the Colonel said softly.
“What about tomorrow then?” Loren asked. “I’ll still be in town.”
“Oh, that’s impossible,” the Colonel said, walking over to Priscilla and taking her hand. “You see. I’m going to be busy for the rest of my life.”
Chapter 30
“Do you think we should call the police?” Melanie asked Vivien.
Vivien bit her lip with indecision.
After the Colonel had made his amazing pronouncement that he was leaving This Old Thing?, an escort from the show took Vivien and Marco through a maze of underground tunnels and out to their truck in the now deserted parking lot. The Colonel had insisted on keeping Priscilla with him. She and Marco had protested, but Priscilla said she wanted to stay with him. Marco put the name of the vineyard and Melanie’s number in Priscilla’s phone while Vivien had a few hurried words with the Colonel.
“My intentions are honorable,” the Colonel said with a twinkle in his eye.
Vivien blushed. She realized she and Marco seemed like overanxious parents.
“We’ll meet you at the vineyard,” the Colonel had said. “There is no way all of us together can get out of here unnoticed. I’m a master at skirting the paparazzi. I’ll promise to take good care of your grandmother until we get there.”
“She’s actually not my grandmother,” Vivien said.
She saw the Colonel’s eyes shoot over to Marco, who was still patiently tutoring Priscilla on her phone. “That’s Marco. Priscilla isn’t his grandmother either. Priscilla didn’t have any kids, so no grandkids.”
Vivien could see the next question forming in the Colonel’s eyes.
“She never married, as far as I know,” Vivien said.
“I have so many questions,” the Colonel said.
You have questions?
Vivien looked at a clock on Melanie’s mantelpiece. It had been over three hours since they’d gone their separate ways at the show.
“Let’s give them a little longer,” Vivien said.
It occurred to Vivien this was how parents must feel when they can’t find their wayward teenagers. She smiled as she thought of her own parents. She’d put them through the ringer a time or two. When this was all over, she’d have to call and thank them.
Marco was keeping an eye on Facebook and Twitter. The final moments of the show were everywhere. Mainstream news was reporting that the Colonel had refused comment.
“Well, if he’s refusing to comment,” Vivien said, draping her arms around Marco as she looked over his shoulder at the computer. “He must be okay, right?”
“Why would you think that?” Marco asked, as he switched back and forth between sites.
“Well, ‘no comment’ is a comment, in its own way,” Vivien said.
“I think the ‘
no comment’ is probably from that dragon lady,” Marco shuddered.
Clay, Tweeter, and Woofer suddenly started barking, jolting Vivien and Marco out of their concentration.
“I see headlights at the end of the drive,” Melanie called out.
The three of them joined the dogs at the large front window as the two bright beams from a car made their way up the gravel. Vivien was the first to rush out as the car pulled to a stop. She pulled open the passenger door.
“Priscilla!” Vivien said. Her voice was shaking. “We’ve been worried sick.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear,” Priscilla said as Vivien helped her out of the car. “Time just got away from us.”
Marco was glaring at the Colonel, but stepped aside as they made their way into Melanie’s house.
Marco closed the front door after ushering everyone inside.
The dogs continued to bark and wag as the foyer filled with people. Vivien stared at Priscilla in the light. Priscilla’s chin appeared to be rubbed raw on the left side. Vivien knew immediately what she was seeing.
Whisker burn!
Priscilla and the Colonel are late because they were making out!
“Come in, come in,” Melanie said, ushering the group into the living room. “You scared these kids half to death!”
“Our apologies,” said the Colonel, all charm. “We haven’t seen each other in fifty years. We were just beginning to catch up when we realized how late it was.”
Vivien could see Marco shudder. He was no happier picturing the old people’s reunion than she was.
“Everybody sit,” Melanie said. “I’ll bring the sherry.”
“Vintage?’ the Colonel asked automatically.
“Just chill, Colonel,” Melanie said. “You’ll like it.”
Vivien was surprised. Melanie spoke as if she knew the Colonel. But, it occurred to her, when you host a show like This Old Thing? for years, many people must feel as if they knew you.
Marco and Vivien sat across from the Colonel and Priscilla.
“We have some questions,” Marco said, sounding stern.
“I’m sure you do,” the Colonel said.
Vivien was surprised that the Colonel didn’t seem put off by Marco’s tone.
Tiny House on the Road Page 19
