“You’ll show Brogan.”
“You know about the bet, too?” I’m not sure why I’m surprised, but I kind of thought this was a private thing.
“Your mom told me stories of how those boys used to terrorize you. You let me know if I can help in any way.”
“Thank you,” I tell her before asking, “Are there any antique stores in town?”
“Sure are. Herman’s and Old Stuff are both on Main Street. You can’t miss them.”
I nod my head. “I’ll be back later this afternoon with the Jeep.”
“No hurry, honey. Nobody needs it today.”
Driving out of the lodge I can’t help but appreciate how beautiful this place is. Would I rather be in Grand Cayman? Heck, yeah. Still, there’s something special happening here. I pass families on horses and more on foot. Looking out to the river there are even more of them on boats. All these families are giving me ideas for the glamping sites.
I’m meeting Cheryl at the market for lunch today to update her on how well dinner went last night. I couldn’t have done it without her insider information about Brogan’s clam aversion. His reaction was so extreme I started to wonder if it was more of an allergy than a dislike. Luckily he didn’t swell up or anything.
Before I meet Cheryl, I stop off on Main Street. I’m in the market for a bathtub.
Herman’s looks more like a junkyard than an antique shop from the street, so I start there. I’m hoping the haphazard collections and lack of appealing displays means there are good deals to be had.
A man about my parents’ age is sitting next to the cash register when I walk in. He has on wire frame glasses that are perched on the tip of his nose. He’s staring down at his phone and yells out, “Syzygies, boom!”
Then he stands up and dances around in a circle. “Triple word play with a double letter on the Z, one hundred and twelve points, baby!”
He stops when he sees me and asks, “You a Scrabble player?”
“Yahtzee’s my game,” I tell him.
“Huh. Never got into that one. You need any help?”
“I need a bathtub, but not something fancy or expensive. I’m going to use it outside.”
“You putting flowers in it?” he asks.
As if. “Nope. I’m putting water in it and using it as a camping tub.”
“You gonna take it camping with you? That don’t make a whole lot of sense,” he says.
“The campsite is permanent, so the tub won’t be moved.”
He nods his head like the idea has some merit. “You using it year round or just in the warmer months?”
“Year round,” I answer, although I don’t know who in their right mind would want to bathe outdoors in the middle of winter.
“Uh-huh, okay.” He starts to walk around bent over at the waist looking under piles of piles. God knows what’s all there. He suddenly stops dead and declares, “I got just the thing! Follow me.”
I trail behind him as he walks out a back door through a parking lot full of everything but cars. He stops when he reaches the fence line and makes a wide flourish with his hands. “What do you think?”
“Is that a Houston double slipper cast iron tub?” I ask in complete shock. You don’t find those anywhere but designer showrooms.
“Sure is. It could use a little sprucing up on the outside, but the inside is rust free and ready to roll.”
The claw feet are pristine even though the rest of the exterior looks a little rough. I’ll probably just sand it down and paint it with an automotive primer before spraying it with an oil-based gloss coat. I cross my fingers behind my back and ask, “How much do you want for it?”
“Two hundred and twenty-five bucks, cash on the barrelhead.”
That’s it? Even if I could find one, I couldn’t get this for under fifteen hundred in this condition in New York City. “Done,” I tell him before asking, “Do you deliver?” There’s no way I’m going to be able to haul this thing by myself. Cast iron weighs a ton. It also keeps the water hot a lot longer, which is a giant plus if this is going to be used in cold weather.
“I’d have to pay my grandson to help and he charges fifteen dollars.”
“No problem,” I tell him. “I’m going to look around some more, if you don’t mind.”
“What else do you need?” he asks.
“I need a king-size bed frame. Maybe something wood.”
He tilts his head back and forth and asks, “How about wicker?”
“Let me see it,” I tell him.
I wind up calling Cheryl and inviting her up to my cabin tonight instead of meeting for lunch. I spend a total of three hours at Herman’s and just over five hundred dollars, but I get so much great stuff I can’t wait to start placing it.
Before heading back, I call Chris and ask, “Can I drive the Jeep up to my cabin to unload before I return it?”
“You shouldn’t have any problem. It’s four-wheel drive, after all. I can send someone up to help you if you want.”
“I should be okay,” I tell her. “I’ll bring it back around suppertime. I’m hoping to see my mom.”
Chris says, “Hang on a sec, honey.” I hear muffled talking like she’s put her hand over the receiver. When she comes back, she says, “Your mom and Ruby are going into Salem for dinner tonight. They say they’ll catch up with you soon.”
“Okay.” If not for my excitement to get the cabin set up, I’d be more than a little mad they didn’t invite me to join them. “Do you know if the king-size mattress got delivered?” I ask before hanging up.
“Sure did. There wasn’t room for it in the bedroom, so they left it in the front room by the fireplace.”
I cannot wait to see it. After today’s purchases, my victory is only an arm’s length away. That’s not to say I’ll ever go glamping by choice. But you never know, if this project turns out as well as I expect it to, I’ll definitely use the pictures in my portfolio and I might become a go-to glamping interior design expert. But let’s not put the cart before the horse.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Mothers
Ruby: You would not believe the number of boxes that have arrived for Addison.
Libby: Oh, yes, I would. In fact, no matter how many you have, I guarantee the number will more than double.
Ruby: She’s a shopper, huh?
Libby: Let’s just say she likes her comforts. I’m guessing she panicked when she saw that cabin.
Ruby: I can’t wait to see what she thought she’d need. I’ll let you know when I get back.
Libby: Godspeed, my friend.
Brogan
I managed to keep a sandwich down when I got back to the fishing cabin last night. I actually used to like clams until that night with Cheryl and Damian in Newport. One bad clam and there was no going back.
Not only have I not been able to get the taste of regurgitated seafood fully out of my mouth, but I’ve been scratching my backside all night. There was something sticky on the outhouse toilet seat last night, but it was so dark out there I couldn’t tell what. Whatever it was though, it seems to have attracted a host of vermin who attacked while I was asleep.
I eat an unusually large breakfast, relishing the fact that everything tastes exactly as it should, then I head out to the falls for a swim. I end up staying for hours, letting my mind drift. I come up with some great ideas for my next book, make a mental list of things to do for my new house, and even take a cat nap against a big tree trunk. More and more, I appreciate the appeal of Billy’s natural lifestyle.
On my way back to my cabin, I see a truck pull up the path heading to Addie’s. Who in the world could be coming up to visit her? That’s when I recognize Herman Benting and his grandson, Otto.
The back of Herman’s truck is packed full which leads me to believe Addison has been shopping. I start to jog after them and arrive just as Herman steps out of the truck. “What have you got there?” I ask by way of greeting.
“Just some stuff for Miss Cooper. Y
ou want to help us unload it?”
The only reason I do is so that I can see firsthand what all she bought. “Is that a bathtub?” I ask in shock.
“Looks like it,” Herman says.
What is that woman thinking? There’s no hot water up here.
Addie comes running out looking fresh and well-rested. She claps her hands together and exclaims, “You’re here!”
“I told you we would be,” Herman tells her. Then he extends the ramp off his truck and asks, “Where do you want the tub?”
Addie runs over near the outdoor shower and says, “Right here.”
Herman pulls some plywood sheeting from the flatbed and lays it on the ground leading to the area Addie indicated. “What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Have you ever lifted a cast iron bathtub?”
“No.”
He informs me, “They’re usually three hundred pounds or so. I put this baby on wheels so we can just push it into place. I’ll remove them after that.”
Smart thinking. Addie spots me and offers a pleasant enough wave. “How are you feeling today?”
“A bit better,” I tell her.
“You want me to heat up some leftovers for you?”
“No!” I shout before softening my answer. “I’m meeting James tonight, remember?” I wave my hands toward the back of Herman’s truck and say, “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“Just doing my job,” she answers with a smile.
While Herman and Otto roll the bathtub into place, my mom pulls up in a golf cart full of shipping boxes. “What are you doing here?” she asks me as she gets out.
“I got curious when I saw Herman drive by. Looks like this little glamping experiment is going to cost you a pretty penny,” I tell her.
“It takes money to make money.” Another familiar adage from childhood.
Addie comes running over and hugs my mom. “Looks like my purchases have started to arrive.”
“Are there more?” my mom asks her.
Addie inspects the shipment and answers, “Definitely.”
“Brogan,” my mom addresses me, “please take these into Addie’s cabin. I want to get a closer look at that tub. It’s positively gorgeous!”
“I can’t believe you bought a bathtub,” I tell Addie. “Who in their right mind would want to take a cold bath?”
“It’s not going to be cold,” she says. “Follow me.” Mom and I trail behind as she walks over to her new purchase.
“I bought an old cauldron and tripod so I can heat water over an open fire right next to the tub. Then I bought some plumbing tubing at the hardware store that fits over the shower spigot so I can fill the cauldron and add whatever cold water is needed to the bath.”
Her idea is ingenious. Of course, I don’t tell her that. Instead, I say, “You’re kidding?” A horrible itch overcomes me just then, and I give my butt a vigorous scratching.
My mom looks appalled. “What are you doing?” she demands.
“I got bit up something fierce last night,” I tell her.
“By what?”
“I have no idea.”
Addie lets out a delighted giggle, so I ask, “What are you laughing at? The same thing could happen to you too, you know.”
“I’m sure it could,” she says. “I’m merely laughing because you’re not making camping look like the kind of fun you say it is.”
“I’m not complaining, just itching.” I walk off and start the lengthy process of unloading the golf cart for my mom. I can’t imagine what’s in all of these boxes.
By the time everything is unloaded and we’re standing inside the cabin, I can’t help but think it looks like Addie is trying to turn this place into a proper home. “Why in the world do you need a headboard?” I ask her.
“Glamping is about making things as luxurious as you can while still roughing it in nature,” she explains. “A headboard is merely one of those luxuries.”
My mom sits down on the bed and asks Addie, “If the bed is going to be out here, what are you putting in the bedroom?”
“I’m going to turn that into the closet. I’ll put a rod up for hanging clothes and Herman brought up a highboy so your guests can unpack their stuff into drawers. That way the main living area won’t be junked up with suitcases and the like.”
“What a good idea,” my mom tells her. “I can’t wait to see it when it’s all done. When do you think that will be?”
“Give me four days,” Addie announces. “I should be eighty percent done by then.”
“Let me know if you need me to send any maintenance people up to help.”
“I can always come over, too,” I interject.
My mom scoffs, “Please. You just make sure you have your checkbook ready to pay off me and your brother.”
“You make sure you’re ready to sign over Cheater’s Ridge to me,” I tell her. Although, by the looks of things, Addison might just make it a full month up here. I briefly consider resorting to some old tricks to make sure that doesn’t happen. But then again, the longer Addie’s here, the more I get to see her. I certainly have a lot to think about.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Mothers
Libby: How did it go?
Ruby: I think Addie has bought enough stuff for ten cabins. That girl of yours seems to have her eye on turning her current residence into a mini Taj Mahal.
Libby: I warned you.
Ruby: The question is, do you think she’s going to win the bet?
Libby: If I know my daughter, she’ll do it. She wants to put Brogan in his place.
Ruby: I wish you were still here.
Libby: I feel safer being across the globe right now.
Addison
After Aunt Ruby and Brogan take off, I get busy unpacking. The first thing I take out is a pop up tent. I figure it’ll be perfect for couples with kids old enough to want the full camping experience. It’ll also give the parents a bit of privacy, so win-win.
I bought a green tent that will blend into the forest. True to its advertising, I have the thing out of its box and up within ten minutes. Nice.
Next, I unpack yoga mats for the flooring and unroll sleeping bags on top of that. An air mattress can always be added, depending on the degree of comfort the children require.
Several battery-operated lanterns are next. They’re all on one remote control so once I get some help stringing them up in the trees, they should be good to go until the batteries need to be changed.
The reason I set up the tent first is so that Billy has a place to sleep. I know he says he likes sleeping out under the stars, but he’s getting old and I can’t imagine the hard ground is as comfortable as it once might have been.
While I’m working on the outside of the bathtub, Cheryl pulls up. Pick-up trucks must be the Oregon state vehicle. Everyone seems to have one.
“Heya!” she calls out. “I brought wine.”
“Welcome,” I reply. “I have dinner warming up on the camp stove. You want to go in and pour us a couple glasses while we wait? I’ll be right in.”
I hurry and finish up the primer coat on the tub. I plan on spraying the topcoat after dinner so that I can have a bath in the morning. I can’t wait.
As I walk inside the cabin, Cheryl hands me a glass and says, “Girl, you’ve been busy.”
“I have gotten a huge amount accomplished today. Thankfully, I didn’t have to cook dinner because I’m serving you leftovers.”
“Food always tastes better the next day,” she says with a smile. “That’s what I tell my kids when they complain about the same meal two and three days in a row.”
“Would you mind helping me move some boxes? I figure once the bed is situated and made, you’ll get a better vision of what I’m doing.”
We spend the next half-hour setting up the headboard and bed against the wall adjacent to the fireplace. Once the linens and duvet are on, Cheryl stands back and appreciates our efforts. “This is going to look great.”
/> “I know.” I walk over to the corner and start searching through the pile of things that Herman brought up until I find a beautiful old quilt. I throw it across one of the Adirondack chairs I bought to put in front of the fireplace.
Once the candles on the mantel are lit, Cheryl gasps. “I could live here.”
“It’s all about the lighting,” I tell her. I explain how the outside lanterns are on a remote. “That way if you have to use the outhouse in the middle of the night, you can flip the lights on so you can see where you’re going.”
“That’s seriously brilliant,” she says. “But you know you can get a toilet seat that fits on top of a bucket if you want something for inside the cabin at night.”
“Really? What a great idea.”
“Yup. Just pick up some biodegradable plastic liners for it and then you don’t have any cleanup to speak of. Just throw the whole thing down the hole in the outhouse.”
“I don’t suppose there are fans propelled by gerbils running on exercise wheels?” I inquire hopefully.
Cheryl looks at me like I’m a lunatic. So, I explain, “I had a gerbil named Herbie when I was a kid. I swear he was training for the rodent Olympics or something. He never got off his wheel and I used to think he’d be just as effective as those giant windmills in the desert.”
“You may have to invent that yourself,” she says. “But seriously, this place is going to look amazing when you’re done. I’ll have to rent one of these for a couple nights and bring the kids up here.”
“Is your ex in the picture at all?” I ask. I wouldn’t normally ask such a personal question so soon, but there’s something about Cheryl that makes her already feel like a friend. After all, only a friend would rat out another friend to facilitate my revenge.
“He sends child support and calls the kids regularly, but his early mid-life crisis doesn’t allow for more than that.”
“What’s his crisis all about?” I ask.
“It stemmed from living in the same town his whole life and marrying his childhood sweetheart. He claims to have had no real-life experience. That’s why he took off for Los Angeles. Apparently, that’s where real life happens.” She rolls her eyes while shaking her head.
Love is a Battlefield (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 1) Page 16
