by Ritter Ames
By the time they could see the roofline of the cabin, the kids were struggling with their loads. Each held a handle of their respective totes, to share the chore between the team members. When they were within sight of the back of the cabin, Sam and Ben lost their load and shouted their disappointment.
“You all did a great job,” Kate said, bending over to help shove sticks back into the bag. “I checked it out while everyone was walking, and they’ve looked equal to me. I think you’re all winners.” As they finished restoring the kindling and small branches to the tote, she took both handles and added, “I’ll carry it the rest of the way. You’ve done enough.”
“I’ll second that,” Meg said, holding out a hand to relieve Mark and Suze of their overfilled sack.
The kids used the relief of their task to start an impromptu game of tag. They shouted as each tagged the other and loudly pleaded for their parents to join in.
“We have firewood to carry,” Keith called out. He and Gil had filled their larger tote with enough small logs and pinecones that Kate envisioned a perfect fire for the evening.
“But we can referee while you all tag each other,” Meg declared in response to the kids’ pleas.
A second later they heard the sound of several vehicles roaring away.
“That sounded close,” Gil said, veering around the house to put the firewood near the stone ring.
“Probably acoustics,” Keith said. “The main road is close enough, a rapid acceleration like that would make the sound seem nearby.
The tents in the yard stood sentinel, and the area around the cabin looked as they’d left it, except for new tire tracks Kate didn’t remember seeing before. She wondered, however, if the cars they’d just heard had been visitors they’d missed. But since no one was there now, the group dumped their firewood on the other side of the house, then headed inside to wash up and cool off with their snack.
“Leave your shoes and boots on the porch,” Meg said. “I looked for a welcome mat of some kind to put by the door, but no luck. So let’s minimize a little of the mess by not tracking the national forest across the gorgeous gold shag carpeting, okay?”
“You’re right,” Kate agreed. “The rug is probably an heirloom.”
Everyone laughed, but no one argued about leaving their shoes behind. Gil turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, moving aside so Meg could go first.
She stopped after one step. “Good heavens!”
CHAPTER SIX
LET YOUR CAMP CLEANING Do Double Duty
Flies hate the smell of PineSol, so when you need to clean a picnic table and benches, use a 50/50 mixture of PineSol and water in a spray bottle. Spray all around the table and even the underside—not just where you want to wipe it clean—as well as chairs and benches to let flies know they aren’t welcomed guests when dinner is served.
“WHAT THE HOLY—” GIL started, then caught himself and stopped his words. He and Meg moved further into the space.
Keith and Kate stayed right behind them, with the kids bringing up the rear.
The kitchen looked like Goldilocks had been there rifling through the cabinets. Two half-drunk Coke bottles were on the counter, along with an open bag of chips and one of the packages of dip. Someone had also made a sandwich—also half-eaten—and left the mayonnaise lid on the counter.
Meg opened up the refrigerator door, and the unlidded jar of mayo sat drying out on the top shelf. “Well, at least we won’t get food poisoning if we use it.”
“But who could have come in?” Gil stared at the room, where all the ugly couch cushions were now jumbled half on and half off the piece of furniture.
Kate walked over to the door, and as she’d suspected, the lock didn’t show any signs of having been picked. She turned to Keith. “Honey, why don’t you and the kids check outside to make sure nothing was disturbed or taken in any of the tents. While Meg, Gil and I check in here.” She raised an eyebrow to tip him off that there was more to this than she was letting on.
After ten years of marriage, Keith recognized when to follow his wife’s lead. He rounded up the kids to start their investigation tentside, and Kate closed the door as they all left.
“You think it was Paul. Right, Kate?” Meg said, picking up the pillows from the floor and tossing them back on the sofa bed. “I’m glad we didn’t bother changing the sheets yet.”
“Oh, come on, you two,” Gil said. “Why would Paul come in and eat our food—”
“And meet one of his girlfriends in the cabin while we were gone,” Meg interrupted. “And use the sofa bed in the living room, and leave in a hurry so they wouldn’t get caught.”
“What?”
“Gil,” Kate pointed to the lock. “No one broke in. They had to have a key.”
“But Paul gave me his key.”
Meg snorted. “Like he didn’t make a copy? Or his little floozy didn’t have one? Unless your editor came all this way for a quickie with a girlfriend, Paul Gaines was in our cabin while we were hiking. That’s why we didn’t find him slaving over his story research when you knocked at his place.”
He shrugged his shoulders, but the expression on his face said it was in resignation rather than uncertainty. “I’ll go talk to him later.”
“No. That man isn’t getting any more of our weekend,” Meg said. “We’re here to relax, dammit.”
“Maybe we should wait and take the Skyline Drive up Mount Equinox on our way home, instead of tomorrow as we’d planned,” Kate suggested. She’d been looking forward to the views Meg had raved over, and maybe even checking out the monastery nearby. But the idea of leaving the cabin unattended, then returning, no longer had the same appeal.
“Yes, or I’ll stay here while everyone else goes,” Meg offered.
“I can’t understand why he would do this,” Gil said, closing up the chips and stowing them back into the cabinet.
Meg picked up the trash can and used her free hand to brush the broken chips and crumbs from the countertop and into the plastic liner. “That’s because you’ve never understood what a narcissist the man is.” She dropped the bin and moved over to hug her husband. “I don’t want to fight about Paul anymore. I’m sorry your friend didn’t act like a good friend. Let’s just make this weekend work. Okay?”
Feeling like a third wheel after delivering the evidence of the perpetrator, Kate opened the door and said, “I’m going to go see if Keith and the kids have noticed anything. There’s more ground to cover outside.”
“Thank you,” Meg said, shooting her a crooked smile.
As Kate stepped off the porch, Keith joined her.
“Nothing looks disturbed out here,” he said quietly, his usual grin long gone. “The kids are taking this as an adventure of sorts. Well, except for Ben. I figure he’ll be sleeping inside with you and Meg tonight.”
Kate sighed. “Meg and I figured it was Paul.”
“I walked around the cabin to be sure there wasn’t some other point of break-in. Nothing. They let themselves in through the front door.”
“But why? Sure his trailer was small,” Kate said. “Yet breaking in here? Leaving a mess like that? Why come here?”
Keith shrugged, then he dipped his head to get closer to her head. He whispered, “Sam’s looking, so I’d better get back over there. But my thought about the location was that maybe he gave a key to a girlfriend, she arrived without knowing he’d moved out temporarily, and called on his cell to ask why the tents were in the yard and to find out where he was.”
“Makes sense.” Kate nodded, matching Keith’s whisper. “And when Paul learned we were all gone, he told her he’d drive over and meet her here. Girlfriend probably scavaged for food while she waited.”
“Then they must have either heard the kids shouting as we returned, or spotted us out the window. The cabin sat between us and the driveway, so we didn’t see them leave in the front.”
“Which also explains why they left the crazy mess, and we heard the sound of the vehicles we took
as coming from the main road.” Kate squeezed his forearm. “Why don’t we walk over and finish taking inventory with the kids until Meg and Gil come out.”
“Is he going after Paul?”
“Meg talked him out of it. But I don’t think his heart is in it yet, anyway.”
Keith chuckled. “Meg wants to make sure she gets the first punch herself.”
“Never a doubt in my mind,” Kate replied, smiling.
They spent a few minutes by each tent with the kids, and soon Meg came out carrying a pitcher of cold lemonade, and Gil followed with a stack of plastic cups.
“I know we were going to have oranges, but it’s already six o’clock,” Meg said, walking to the picnic table on the side of the cabin. “How about everyone quickly rehydrates and then we can get a fire started and roast some hotdogs?”
The kids hooted approval and scrambled to grab cups.
Mark spoke first, “Dad, can I have your pocketknife to go cut some sticks for us to use? All we got was firewood earlier. We need green sticks from trees. Not the dead stuff we found on the ground.”
“Good advice, son,” Gil said. “Come on and we’ll do it together.”
As they wandered off, the other three kids followed behind. Kate turned to Keith and said, “Why don’t you put your latent Boy Scout skills to good use and start building the campfire while Meg and I prep the food?” She pointed to the cabin wall and added, “There’s the charcoal if you want to mix it with the firewood.”
“I’m getting hungry just thinking about dinner,” he said. “Are we going to roast the ears of corn tonight?”
“No, that’s for tomorrow. Tonight we’re going the easier route to get the kids started on the process.”
The kitchen and living area looked normal to Kate’s eye, but as she cleaned an onion for dicing, she asked, “You and Gil seemed to have done some cleaning along with talking.”
“We didn’t talk much,” Meg replied. “Just kind of buried the whole issue. Not a good thing, I know, but it kept us focused on getting rid of the mess and helped us work faster.” She laughed, but the sound had little humor. “This weekend was supposed to be fun. Now I’m going to have Ben sleeping with me, and we can’t even do the things we planned on at the top of Mount Equinox without worrying about what’s going on here while we’re gone. I have half a mind...”
When her words petered off, Kate set the onion aside and pulled her friend into a hug, rubbed her back and said, “This weekend is terrific, and the kids are having a great time. Ben may have wanted to sleep with you anyway. It’s all a strange and new place, after all. The intrusion simply gave him a reason his older brother is less likely to tease him over. Relax. Everything is going to be fine.”
“You’re right,” Meg said pulling away. “No more being a Whiney Winnie for me.”
“Whiney Winnie? I’ve never heard that one.”
“Hopefully, you won’t have to hear it again.”
They worked in tandem the way they did for any job. By the time the food and utensils were organized and ready to go, they heard the group of stick seekers return, and Suze burst through the door asking, “Do you need help with anything?”
“Sure, go wash up, and you can carry some of this too,” Kate said.
“I love that your girls ask to help,” Meg whispered.
“Don’t be fooled,” Kate said, quietly. “Suze is already tired of being outside, I can tell. Sam, on the other hand, will be beside her dad adding firewood to the flames all night if we let her.”
Despite the number of items to carry, they made fast work of the chore of ferrying everything out to the picnic table. Keith had the flames going well, and he’d stacked the remaining firewood on the cabin wall closest to the fire pit. In the stone ring, the wood and briquettes fueled the blaze tall and proud in the circle of stones. Each of the kids stayed along the perimeter, roasting their hotdogs over the flames, with both fathers under strict orders from the moms to watch out for horseplay
“We still have a couple of things to do in the kitchen,” Kate said. “Be back in a minute.”
“I don’t want Mark and Ben playing swords with their roasting sticks,” Meg warned.
“On guard,” Ben yelled, pointing his skewered raw hotdog at his brother.
Meg waved a hand at Gil. “Please...”
“Got it,” he said, heading for the boys.
With the front door open, they had no trouble keeping an ear on how things were going.
“It’s just as well we leave the door open since there’s no air conditioning,” Kate said, as she pulled the baking dish of chili fries from the oven she’d prepared during their earlier prep time. The cheese on top was now nicely melted. She set the glass dish on the cool burners, and with a twist of the temperature dial on the old unit, she turned off the oven. “I’m going to need two hands to carry this. Is there another potholder in that drawer beside you?”
“Doesn’t look like,” Meg said after pulling the handle, then grabbed a dishtowel they’d left on the table. “Want to use this?”
“Yes, thanks.” Kate doubled the towel twice, then used it to hold one end as she lifted the other end while protected by a large daisy potholder. “I wonder what Paul used when he cooked.”
Meg snorted. “He told us last night that he took the microwave to use in the caravan for the weekend. Said he only knew how to nuke frozen meals. I figure he’s used to weak-willed women wanting to do for him all the time and feeding him. Hence the feast of chips and dip we found when we returned.”
Kate raised the fries into the air and said, “Let’s postpone discussions until dinner is over. I’d like to eat my chili cheese fries while they’re still warm.”
“Agreed. I’ll grab some extra paper plates and napkins and follow your lead,” Meg said.
“Can you carry that muffin tin filled with sliced pickles and onions, too?”
“Absolutely.”
Earlier, the outdoor picnic table had been cleaned of bird droppings and covered with an oilcloth. When they went out now, the kids and husbands ringed the table, sharing the squeeze bottles of condiments to season their hotdogs. As Meg slid the muffin tin onto the table with its bounty of separated toppings, the husbands dove for the onions while the kids went for the pickles. They’d already piled grated cheese onto their roasted dogs.
“We’re going to need more buns and wienies to roast,” Keith said. “The kids are cooking two at a time. You’d think we’re in a competitive eating event here.”
As Kate maneuvered the dishtowel under the baking dish, before she set it on the table, she said, “This is hot everyone, so don’t touch the glass sides.”
“We already have chips,” Mark said, holding the tortilla chips bag away from Ben’s outstretched hands.
“Quit teasing your brother,” Gil warned. “This is getting old, Mark.”
“Here are the potato chips that Daddy opened,” Suze offered, turning the package toward Ben.
“Well, I’m going to make a meal of this,” Meg said, handing off a plate for Kate and herself, then setting the rest on the table. “I’ve been thinking about these wonderfully gooey, greasy things all afternoon.”
“Me too,” Kate said.
The husbands had roasted extra hotdogs for the wives, though Keith appropriated Kate’s when she said she was going to fill up on the fries. In the miracle of eating camp food, the kids finished in half the time they normally took to eat dinner and headed back to the fire to roast another round of wieners.
“I’ll go watch them,” Gil said, unfolding his lanky body from the wooden bench. “I’m going to cook me another. Does anyone else want more?”
The other adults all said they were good, and he headed off. Meg climbed out to join him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Mark, but it may take both of us to watch out for Ben this weekend,” she said.
Keith had already finished off the hotdogs and was swiping fries from Kate’s plate. She nudged it closer to him and said, �
��I know the kids love the whole idea of portable food, but these fries are my idea of camp food.”
“No argument out of me,” he said and shoved another loaded fry into his mouth.
They watched Meg move beside Ben and add another hotdog to his stick. The twins helped each other, and Mark did his own. Gil shish kabobbed three wieners on his stick and roasted them in triplicate.
Kate leaned closer to Keith. “I still don’t understand why we had to use sticks that you guys cut down from trees to roast the hotdogs, instead of the fondue and barbecue forks I brought along with us.”
“Honey, we talked about this.” Keith smiled indulgently and covered his wife’s hand with his. “Long sticks are safer because they keep everyone farther from the flames. And we whittled off all the exterior wood. The exposed wood is practically germ-free, I promise, and the heat from the fire will take care of anything else.”
She couldn’t help fixating on his use of the word practically, but she stayed silent. There were some battles she knew she shouldn’t try to win, and she counted on Keith to attempt to steer her out of her OCD and germaphobe tendencies. Something he was particularly good at doing.
But she knew when everyone made s’mores for dessert that she was using a barbecue fork to melt her marshmallows.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN A CAMPFIRE DOESN’T Cooperate
If you can’t get your campfire started, mix tortilla chips in with the kindling. The grease in the chips will catch fire almost immediately and will help the wood catch and burn. Also, since this type of starter is food-based, it avoids the risk of having to smell the petroleum scent of starter fluid. Another excellent way to start a fire is to stuff dryer lint into used paper towel or toilet tissue rolls. Light the paper cylinder, and the dryer lint becomes a terrific fire starter.
THE FIRE WAS HIGH, and the sky was beginning to darken when it was time to make s’mores. The kids were ready and volunteered to roast marshmallows for all the adults too. Kate and Meg laughed and agreed to relinquish the privilege of accomplishing that first crucial step of s’more making to the kids, then they used the time to return the leftover food into the kitchen. Keith had already attached a trash bag to the end of the table to make it handy, and the kids all enjoyed tossing their trash.
