by Clay, Verna
"Enough said, Max. If you think the letter is necessary, by all means, send it out."
Max asked the question that kept going through his mind. "Why would my grandfather send me here? What's your connection to him?"
"Maybe that's something you need to ask him?"
"I did. He evaded the question."
Princess grinned. "Maybe he dropped all the names of trailer parks in Arizona into a hat and mine got selected at random."
"I wouldn't put it past the old…er…him. But I got a feeling there's more to this than meets the eye."
"Well, if you figure it out, please enlighten me."
Max studied Princess's face for a moment and decided she would be a good poker player. Hell, she could already be one for all he knew. Sighing, he picked up her suitcase to stow in her car, wished her a pleasurable vacation, and then returned to his RV to print out thirty-one letters. After enclosing them in envelopes, he walked to the centrally located recreation room with its outdated kitchen, large gathering area with three long tables set end-to-end and surrounded by folding chairs, and the boxes of all the residents. While he was placing an envelope inside each box, Desi entered.
"Howdy, Max. Looks like you're sending a greeting letter out to everyone."
Max felt himself blush and hated the feeling. "Well, not exactly."
Desi said, "Hmm," and retrieved his letter. He started to leave, but paused. "Willie is staying with me later today. If you get time, you might enjoy tossing a ball with us."
"Uh, well, I probably won't have time."
Desi shrugged. "Well, it's a standing invitation."
That afternoon, Max decided to eat at the diner, and walked the quarter mile to get there.
Chapter 6: Paper Pusher
Max entered Desert Princess Diner and strode to the same booth he'd occupied his first day. He noticed Pilar was bending over the service counter reaching for someone's order and talking to the chef, a middle-aged Mexican whose penchant for eating was obvious by the extra pounds he carried around his middle. Max's gaze drifted down Pilar's generous posterior and shapely legs. Forcing his gaze back to his booth, he slid in and wondered if she would be his waitress or the tall, skinny gal with bleached blond hair piled high in a style that was reminiscent of a bird's nest. He guessed her age to be over fifty, and then revised that to over sixty. He grabbed his menu and slid next to the wall and grinned. He'd never encountered so many strange characters in his life and he'd traveled extensively.
His musing was suddenly jarred when Pilar slid into his booth and slammed a piece of paper on the table in front of him.
"What the hell is this?" She didn't even bother to lower her voice. Max casually glanced around the room and noticed all the patrons were watching them. When he met their gazes, however, they quickly returned to eating. Easily, because he often dealt with angry men and women in his occupation, he said, "Looks like a letter." He never blinked or flinched returning Pilar's stare.
Now she lowered her voice and leaned forward. "Want to know what I think it is?"
He remained as still as a statue. Angry people usually mellowed when he didn't react.
However, instead of talking, Pilar sat back, lifted the paper, and proceeded to tear it to shreds. Her eyes, the color of espresso, flashed daggers at him.
Max almost smiled. Now this is something I haven't seen before.
She spoke again. "I don't know what the hell is going on and why Princess has allowed you so much leeway, but I don't intend to sit back and let you evict people from the park."
That finally got Max's ire. "That letter mentioned nothing about eviction. It merely states that rent must be paid on time. What the hell is wrong with that?"
"And what happens when Lilac and the others can't pay on time? Are you going to look the other way?"
"Ms. Armstrong, I highly doubt it will come to that. If the late payers continue to pay late, a mere twenty-five dollars will be tacked onto their account."
Pilar's face turned even redder and her dimples kept peeking at him. She said low, "Obviously, you don't know what it's like to live solely on Social Security. For many of the residents, that's their only source of income." She sucked a deep breath and continued, "And as for Lilac, she's supporting a mentally-challenged, forty year old son who thinks he's five. He lives in an institution in Phoenix." She sucked another breath. "Did you ever stop to consider why she's living in a camper shell! Twenty-five dollars to her is like two hundred to normal people. And, as for Goody, he has to take heart medication that isn't fully covered by Medicare!" She leaned forward until her face was in his. "But the late payers always, always, pay their rent."
"And how do you know who pays late and who doesn't?"
"Because I helped Princess with the ledgers when she got the flu a few months back." She leaned back and said softly, "You, sir, are a snake. Why don't you return to the hole you slinked out of and play your paper pusher games somewhere else?"
Max watched her storm away and for the second time that day, he was speechless.
Then he was angry.
Why the hell hadn't Princess told him all this when he'd asked about sending the letter out?
He remained seated for a couple of minutes and then jumped from the booth. He sure as hell didn't have an appetite now. His nemesis, Pilar, watched him cross to the door with passion filled eyes, and heaven help him, he thought she was gorgeous.
Max almost ran the distance back to the RV park. He needed privacy so he could think about this turn of events. He was so distracted that it wasn't until he was standing in front of his RV space that he noticed his RV was gone.
Chapter 7: Smell the Roses
"What the fuck!" Max gazed at the 1990s-ish Bounder in disbelief. He darted his gaze up and down the road in front of his space. There wasn't even any lingering dust from his state-of-the art Prevost.
Goody opened the door of his 1970s-ish single-wide and stated the obvious. "Some guy traded your RV out while you was gone."
Max gaped at him before saying between clenched teeth, "Do you have any idea who the guy was or which direction he went after he left the park?"
"Said he was family, to the first question. As for the second, he went that-a-way." Goody pointed toward the road leading to the highway.
Max was about to reach for his phone and dial 9-1-1 when Goody said, "He was a tall fella' with blond hair and good lookin' to boot. Said he left you a note of explanation inside."
Pinky joined Goody, and said, "He looked right happy to be takin' yer RV and leavin' ya this one. I told him that since you was a city boy you wasn't gonna be pleased, but he just laughed."
Max bolted for the Bounder door and jerked it open. From Goody's description and Pinky's observation, he knew who had ripped off his RV; his stepbrother, Bertram.
On top of a small Formica table that folded out from the wall lay an envelope with his grandfather's embossed emblem. Max ripped it open. Unfolding the expensive stationary bearing the same emblem etched in gold, he read:
Max,
I can only imagine your face at this moment. I know you are livid, but I've decided that in my old age I need to take more vacations. There's a fishing hole in Oregon that I haven't visited in thirty years and it's been calling my name for many moons. So, my boy, I've decided to borrow the Prevost from you for awhile. Well, maybe for the rest of your stay in Oasis. Don't be mad at Bertram, he was only following my orders in retrieving the RV.
Speaking of Oasis, I hope you have settled in and started making friends. I know with your business acumen you are already setting the park in order. Along the way, however, don't forget to stop and smell the roses. Ha Ha. That was just a little joke, son. Maybe I should say, don't get stuck by a prickly pear. Anyway, I have a feeling that Oasis will grow on you after a season.
Wish me good fishing! And thanks for the use of the motorhome.
Gramps
P.S. If you're thinking of purchasing another RV to replace this one, you'll find
that your bank account has been severely depleted.
Max tossed the letter on the table. Max, Sr. was calling himself Gramps! He couldn't remember ever having called his grandfather, Gramps.
Max sank onto the couch across from the dinette and groaned. Almost unconsciously, his mind registered the fact that the Bounder wasn't even a pop-out model. Leaning his head against the window behind the couch, he squeezed his eyes tight. For several minutes he made himself focus and deep breathe. He erased murderous thoughts for everyone except Bertram from his mind. He could just imagine the jerk's glee while replacing his RV with this one. The man had been sucking up to his grandfather since the age of twelve, when Max's mother had married Bertram's father, Maynard Babcock, the wicked warlock of the world. Since Max's father had died before Max reached the age of six and his sister was only two, they had never known the love of a father on a daily basis—what with their father chasing around the world supporting whatever the current cause. After Maynard entered their lives, they still hadn't known that love. The man had arrived with one agenda, well, actually two. Promote his son and discredit Max, Sr.'s direct grandchildren. Max hadn't even grieved when his stepfather died when Max was twenty. Unfortunately, Bertram had continued in his father's shoes.
Before unhappy childhood memories could gain a foothold, Max jumped up and surveyed the rest of the pitiful motorhome. The layout was such that the toilet was centrally located with a tiny sink. There was barely enough room to turn around, much less sit. Across from the head the shower was small. Max cringed when he thought of cramming his tall frame into that minimal space. The Prevost had had a full sized bathroom and shower. The only good thing about this RV was that it was clean.
As for the living area, there was a couch across from a pull out table with padded seating on either side. Along the same wall as the table and across from the side entrance, a miniature sink, two-burner stove, and quarter-size oven made up the cooking space. Opposite that set up was a half-size fridge.
Max moved past the kitchen and lavatory to the bedroom. After shouting a few curse words into the tiny room, he closed his eyes and thought of Pinky. His bedroom consisted of pink paneling, pink bedspread, pink privacy blinds, and pink carpet. Max suddenly felt nauseous.
Gulping calming breaths, he waited until the feeling passed before opening his eyes again. His clothing had been tossed haphazardly onto the bed and his toiletries onto the tiny nightstands on either side. There was hardly enough room to squeeze his body around the bed to reach the nightstands. Without a doubt, he knew his feet would hang off the edge of the mattress when he lay down.
Disgusted, Max returned to the front of the Bounder. For the first time he noted that the trailer park files were stacked on the driver's seat. Staring at them, and realizing the depths to which his life had sunk, he suddenly needed air. He needed to run. The outside temperature was probably pushing ninety degrees, but he didn't care. He'd run until he collapsed, if need be.
Rushing back to the bedroom, he fumbled through the clothing on the bed until he found his jogging pants and running shoes. Jerking them on and ripping his shirt off, he rushed from the RV. Vaguely, he was aware of Goody and Pinky standing with Pilar behind her white-picket fence and Pinky gesturing toward his RV. Other neighbors were standing in the road, and still others were suddenly taking strolls.
Briefly, his eyes met Pilar's. Expecting to see wrath, or worse, pity, he only saw confusion. He turned and started running. He ran to the trail used by residents for walking their dogs. At the end of the trail he reached a road that went to God knows where. He kept running.
And running.
And running.
Sweat poured from his body. His heart pounded. The heat increased. But still he kept pounding the hard-packed dirt road.
Chapter 8: Search and Rescue
Pilar watered the plants she'd potted and placed beside her new fence and kept an eye out for her neighbor. She may not like him, but she certainly didn't want him to come to harm. Over an hour earlier, he'd run with a vengeance toward the trail leading to the wilderness road. Glancing at the RV now residing in his space, she wondered what the heck was up with that. Never one to gossip, she'd avoided the gathering of neighbors motioning and asking questions of each other. Everyone had eventually returned to their own trailers or RVs when the object of their curiosity did not soon return from his run.
Again, Pilar glanced in the direction of the trail. The desert could be treacherous to a novice. There were snakes and scorpions, of course, but running without water could be more deadly than the critters.
Making a decision, she rushed inside her trailer. "Willie, I'm worried about Mr. Rutherford running in this heat. I'm going to drive out and see if I can find him. Do you want to come?"
"No, Mom. But can I go back to Desi's. He bought some old baseball movies at Dotty's Dime Store and invited me over to watch them anytime."
"Okay. But remember what I always say."
"I know. I know. Don't overstay my welcome."
Pilar grabbed her car keys off the hook by the door and rushed to her car. Driving past the entrance to the trail, she continued to a side road that would meet up with the wilderness road. She drove for about twenty minutes and wondered if she'd been overly concerned. Perhaps the guy hadn't even ventured onto the wilderness road. Maybe he'd stayed on the trail and was already back home gulping water.
She decided to drive five more minutes. A tiny speck in the distance captured her attention. She punched the gas pedal and sent dust flying behind her. Soon she caught sight of Max running hard, but showing signs of fatigue.
She gulped. Dressed only in jogging pants that rode low on his hips, his sweat drenched body could send any woman into a swoon. She'd guessed he was physically fit, but this was ridiculous. Maybe she should have left well enough alone. He seemed perfectly capable of battling the elements.
She pulled up alongside him and hoped the electronic window on the passenger side worked this time. He stopped and leaned over, placing his hands on his knees and breathing hard.
The window only worked until it was halfway down. "Hey!" she called.
With a look of irritation, Max slowly swiveled his head in her direction. He didn't say anything as his chest kept heaving.
Daunted by his cold stare, but unwilling to leave him in the desert, she warned, "It's not smart to run out here without water. Very dangerous, in fact. And even though the weather hasn't turned scorching yet, heat stroke is a real possibility."
The man stared at her so long and hard that she fidgeted. His breathing slowed and he stepped to her half opened window and said snidely, "You're the last person I'd expect to care whether I came back or not. Or have you come to finish me off? Hit and run out here would go undiscovered."
Pilar's mouth gaped. "You are one big A-hole, Mister." The man's muscular chest distracted any other scathing words she wanted to spew at him.
"So you've already told me." He glanced in the passenger seat at several bottles of water. "I'll have one of those, though. Can you roll the window down?"
Pilar felt her face flame. To counter her sudden embarrassment, she replied waspishly, "No. I can't. It's broken."
Her neighbor sighed, lifted his eyes skyward, and then opened the door. Pilar expected him to grab a couple of bottles and resume running. Instead, he grabbed one, swept the rest onto the floorboard, and then plopped his butt in her car. Twisting the cap off the bottle, he drank the whole thing at one time.
Pilar couldn't remove her gaze from the swallowing motion in his neck and the sucking motion of his lips. The man was gorgeous and the sooner she stopped fighting the obvious, the sooner she could move beyond this unhealthy attraction she had for him.
He finished the bottle and reached for another. This time, he turned to study her face as he drank. She quickly averted her eyes and stared out the windshield.
He finished and tossed the empty bottle in the back seat along with the other one. For long moments they sat in
silence until he said, "I didn't know about Lilac's and Goody's money issues."
His remark surprised Pilar and she turned to gaze past his shoulder; she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. He continued, "I'll think of something to make things work for them, as well as for the park."
Pilar moved her gaze to the hard plane of his jaw and then to lips that were neither full nor thin. She continued her perusal upward past a prominent nose that somehow worked with his chiseled features, to eyes as blue as the cloudless sky above them. "Mr. Rutherford, why are you here? You're obviously wealthy and this is the last place someone like you would choose to stay. And what happened to your RV? I can't imagine it being repossessed."
A slight smile tilted one side of his mouth and Pilar's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"Please call me Max. May I call you Pilar?"
Pilar's heart whacked her chest. "If you want."
Max reached for another water bottle but didn't open it. "I'm here to fulfill the request of an old man. That's about all I can say, except that I can't leave for six months."
"So you're sort of stuck here?"
"Yes."
He continued, "As for the disappearance of my RV, it was unexpected. Let's just say that the afore mentioned old man has quite a sense of humor."
"Sounds like you have some interesting people in your life." Pilar leaned to grab a water bottle and then realized her mistake when her arm brushed Max's forearm, sending a jolt through her body. She jerked back. "Sorry. Could you hand me a water bottle."
"No problem." Max leaned forward and grabbed a bottle. Pilar accepted it, but he didn't release it. Instead, he said, "Do I make you nervous?"
Pilar jerked the bottle from his hand. "Of course not." She unscrewed the cap and returned her gaze to Max while she drank. He was leaning against the door with a slight smile.
