by Susan Schild
“We are. Sorry, Lin,” he said ruefully and touched her arm.
“When are you going?” she asked, making herself uncross her arms.
“With your okay, week after next,” he said. “Chaz already lined up tickets to the observatories and made reservations at the campground.”
Linny’s thoughts began to click away. “Mama and her friends are leaving a day or two before that on their trip. What if I go for a week with them? I can get Mama all calmed down for the road.”
“That works,” Jack said, nodding and looking relieved. He leaned over and gave her a short but smoldering kiss.
Linny smiled at him. Though he’d misstepped, he was just trying to do damage control for his son, and she shouldn’t blame him for that. “Who’s up for pizza? I’m calling in supper.”
“We were talking about how starved we were just before you came home,” Jack said.
“Let me see what strange topping Neal wants to try this time. The number for Gino’s is on the refrigerator.” He stepped into the other room.
Linny switched on the light in the kitchen and smiled when she saw that Jack had stuck the picture from their whitewater rafting trip on the fridge door under the Buy Pizza and Get Gas at Gino’s Gas and Go! magnet. She grimaced. The best pizza in Willow Hill, which just happened to be located in a gas station, needed to change their motto. Neal had probably stuck that magnet up there. Typical twelve-year-old-boy humor. Linny was learning how to be a good sport about that and a lot of other things: rooms strewn with dirty laundry, dishes under the bed, and bags of chips that disappeared as soon as she brought them home from the store. She slipped the photo out from under the magnet, moved to the light of the kitchen window, and looked at it again. Even though the trip had been cut short, what a perfect four days they’d had. But that river trip was like her new marriage: Every time she began to relax and glide along, thinking they were finally in calm waters, they’d go around the bend and hit the rapids.
Linny pushed her shoulders back. Nothing the two of them couldn’t manage. She stuck the picture—and that magnet—back into a central spot on the fridge, reminding herself to add an action shot of the three of them doing something fun together. Also, she’d put up a shot of Jack and Neal doing something manly, like rock climbing or caving, maybe a photo from their upcoming Tucson trip. The pictures would serve as reminders to them that they were a new little family. Linny was determined to make sure Neal knew he was loved and that nobody was leaving him out or going anywhere—like Chaz might.
After supper Neal and Linny had dessert together while Jack went into the other room to work on the computer. Linny dipped into her bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream and looked at Neal gravely. “I never understood butter pecan.”
“Me neither. It’s a mystery,” Neal said, his expression as serious as if they were discussing evolution. “Coffee is a strange flavor, too.” He took a too-large spoonful of his chocolate ice cream and worked his way through it.
Instinctively, Linny knew light conversation and large bowls of ice cream were good for Neal now. The young man needed some normalcy after all the dramatics he’d witnessed. She patted her mouth with a napkin, realizing they’d exhausted the topic of ice cream flavors. And then it came to her. Even though she was bored silly by the sport, Linny knew he was a Caniac: a rabid fan of the North Carolina Hurricanes ice hockey team. She tilted her head. “Tell me how the Hurricanes look this year.”
Neal’s eyes lit up and, in the know-it-all voice he’d recently begun using with her and Jack, told her.
* * *
The following Monday afternoon Linny finished her assigned task of setting out napkins and utensils and sat sipping ice water at her mother’s kitchen table. She glanced through the travel brochures and information about various models of RVs that were fanned out on the table in front of her while she waited for the peach-cobbler-eating and final-trip-planning meeting to begin. Linny eyed Dottie. She’d sprung back fast. Once Linny had agreed to join the women for the start of the trip, her mother’s symptoms had disappeared and she was back to the newer and happier Dottie: bright-eyed, bustling, and organizing everybody.
Linny glanced at the others. These were the women she was going to spend almost a week with in very close quarters. She’d known her mother’s friends from the time she was a girl, but Linny examined them more closely now, wondering how much she really knew about them. What kind of traveling companions would they be? She narrowed her eyes. And why did their hairdos all look so normal? Dottie’s ashy-blond gray hair, Ruby’s auburn curls, and Dessie’s salt-and-pepper pixie were all missing the unfortunate pink tint their beloved hairdresser, Joseph, gave to all his clients. “Y’alls’ hair looks so pretty. Is Joseph doing something different?”
“He’s gone,” her mother said mournfully and heaved a heavy sigh.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Linny put a hand to her chest and, even though she hardly knew the hairdresser, felt bereft, remembering what it was like to have a man up and die on you. “He was too young to pass.”
Dottie cocked her head and peered at her. “He moved to Wilmington to be closer to his mama. She’s ninety-eight.” She gave a satisfied little nod. “She still drives to the Harris Teeter every Thursday for senior discount day.”
Linny just shook her head.
Dessie gave Linny a quick eye roll. Looking sporty and patriotic in a red-and-white-striped blouse, navy blue slacks, and bright white sneakers, Dessie poured a generous dollop of cream in her decaf and peppered Linny with questions about her and Jack’s mountain trip. What was the cabin like? Were there a lot of motorcycles on the Blue Ridge Parkway? Did you eat any mountain trout? Is that little homemade candy store still there?
As Linny answered, she tried to think of exactly what she knew about Dessie. When she was young she’d been married briefly. She’d divorced and married Del—a photographer who was the love of her life—and had a son, a daughter-in-law, and a grandson in California. Del had passed a few years earlier from cancer. On the cruise Dessie had met a man named Perry, a divorced scrap-metal dealer from South Carolina who wore a fedora with a feather.
Ruby wore a gauzy coral dress as she took tin foil off the dish of the peach cobbler she’d made and chattered to Dottie about wishing she had grandkids. Linny knew she had a son and daughter-in-law in Colorado and a daughter in Oregon and reminded herself to find out their names and ages and ask about them. Linny noticed her jeweled sandals and the apricot of the polish on her toes. Ruby kept herself up. Did she have a man in her life? If not, did she want one? Linny remembered that Ruby’s husband, Pete, had died of a heart attack a long time ago.
Linny examined her mother more closely. Dottie had fresh honeyed highlights in her hair and wore a canary yellow linen blouse over black leggings. Linny tried not to stare. Yup, her mama was wearing very cool-looking leggings. She was looking youthful and pretty—or sassy, as her personal shopper friend at Belk would say. She’d ditched the white velour clunker sandals and was back to wearing cute shoes. She was chirping to Ruby about her new man friend. So Mack and I are going to try Chet’s Barbecue tomorrow night; they have a bourbon pecan pie that . . .
All the women looked pretty, and they’d put effort into their appearances. Maybe Linny needed to step up her own game. She glanced down at her khaki shorts. They were flecked with small spots of the yellow paint she’d applied to the kitchen walls. She wore her favorite sage green scoop-necked T-shirt that was now shrunken but still wearable. Neither Avery man understood that you couldn’t throw everything in the dryer on the cotton setting and just waltz off. While she thought no one was looking, she pulled at the hem of the shirt with both hands, willing it to stretch.
“What are you doing, Linny?” her mother asked. Three sets of eyes turned to look at her.
“The men keep shrinking my clothes in the dryer,” she muttered, and Dessie and Ruby chuckled.
Her mother just pursed her lips and shuttled the bowls of cobbler to the table
. Linny paused to stare at her bowl. Her mother had served her a fourth of the size serving of the cobbler and ice cream she had the others. Even though she was no skinny minnie herself, Dottie was always vigilant about Linny’s weight. She might be five or ten pounds over her fighting weight, but Linny was still fairly trim. With a pointed look at her mother, she rose from the table and filled her bowl to the rim with cobbler and topped it with a giant scoop of ice cream. She wasn’t hungry and didn’t even intend to eat it, but still... Her mother raised a brow but said nothing.
Around the kitchen table, Dottie had laid out four legal pads and four freshly sharpened pencils. The women slid into chairs.
Linny felt the familiar surge of excitement and possibilities she used to feel every late summer when school started again. Crack. She jumped as her mother smacked the table with a meat tenderizing hammer.
Dottie called out, “Let’s pipe down, ladies. We’ve got work to do. I officially call this meeting of SWAT Team to order.”
Linny glanced from her mother to Ruby and then to Dessie. “SWAT Team?” she asked.
Dessie chuckled and Ruby grinned as she nodded. “Southern Women’s Adventure Travel. We thought of the name ourselves,” she said proudly. She reached in a plastic bag on the floor beside her, pulled out white T-shirts that had SWAT Team emblazoned on them in black lettering, and handed them out.
“These turned out so pretty,” Dottie said, holding the shirt up to her shoulders. “Ruby tried to get pink lettering, but they didn’t have it.”
Linny examined hers. The shirts looked pretty darned official, like the wearer should be skilled at breaking down doors using a battering ram. “Nice,” she said politely. She glanced around at the others and asked tentatively, “Are we supposed to wear these when we’re on the road?”
“At all times,” Dessie said in a stern tone, but then cackled with laughter. “No, honey.
The shirt is optional. We just wanted to get into the spirit of the road trip.”
“I’m wearing mine at all times,” Dottie said stoutly.
“Remind me how long you all are planning on being gone and what’s your itinerary?” Linny asked, her pencil poised over paper.
“That’s item one on the agenda.” Dottie glanced at Dessie. “Will you please give your report on the best way for us to get from here to there?”
Dessie tapped her pencil on the legal pad and looked at Linny. “We’ve made reservations and plans to visit the sites we don’t want to miss, but we also want to get off the beaten track and take some days to just go where we please.”
Ruby nodded emphatically. “We don’t want to miss the whole freewheeling RV experience.” As the women’s heads swiveled toward her, she tapped the brochure in front of her. “Right here. That’s what they call it—‘the freewheeling RV experience.’”
Dessie hid a smile and looked down at her notes. “I’ve been looking at possible routes. From Willow Hill we’ll take it nice and slow while we check out the RV, but our first stop is outside Dollywood. . . .”
“My girlfriend went last year. She said the arts and crafts demonstrations were fabulous and the shows were great.” Ruby put a manicured hand to her chest and looked reverent. “And what if we actually met Dolly? Can you imagine the thrill of that?”
Dessie waited a moment to make sure Ruby was done and went on. “Then, we motor on to Nashville, swing by the Ryman, the Opry, the Johnny Cash Museum, and it’s on to Graceland. We’ll drop Linny at the airport in Memphis so she can go home and head to Branson. We’ll take a few days to tool around with no agenda and end up at Mount Rushmore and the Badlands. On the way home, we’ll deliver the RV to my nephew and his wife, Brent and Lisette, who have volunteered to drive it back to North Carolina if I buy their tickets back to Nebraska.” She glanced at her two friends. “We girls will fly home from there. None of us can be away more than a month and a half, and Brent and Lisette are thrilled to pieces at the opportunity to travel across part of the country. They’re both good drivers,” she assured them.
“No Niagara Falls or Canadian Railroad?” Dottie asked, her mouth drooping. “No Canadian Mounties?”
“Sorry, shug. We’re not going to have enough time, and we don’t want to be racing from one site to another,” Dessie said.
“I agree,” said Dottie with a regretful sigh. “If this trip goes well, maybe we’ll do a northern circuit next time.”
“We could see the lighthouses of New England,” Ruby suggested, a dreamy look coming into her eye. “Maybe I’d meet a sea captain or a rugged lighthouse keeper.”
“What kind of camping rig did you girls decide we should rent?” Dottie asked.
Ruby pulled a piece of paper from her purse. “I took notes at the RV show. The motor homes are the big ones that look like fancy buses.” She pointed to a brochure that featured a couple who looked like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie driving a sleek, tan and gold motor coach beside what looked to be the Pacific Coast Highway, their two darling Cavalier King Charles Spaniels asleep on the broad dashboard. “Even though I used to drive a school bus, and Del and Dessie had that camper, these seem really big. Too much for me to want to drive,” admitted Ruby with a delicate shudder. “The pull-behind campers looked fine, but we decided on a Class C. It looks like a moving truck but it’s smaller and . . . well . . . cuter.”
“Sleeker. More streamlined,” Dessie clarified. “It’d give us all more room, some privacy, and we both thought it’d be easier to maneuver.”
“Class C it is,” Dottie said, slamming the meat tenderizing hammer down on the table so hard that the cobbler bowls jumped and coffee sloshed in the mugs.
Still wincing, Linny reached over and took the hammer from her mom. “Good job leading the meeting, Mama,” she said with an encouraging smile.
Dessie made a show of pulling the Class C brochures from her purse and the four of them slid their chairs in closer to look as she spread them out on the table. “I talked to the RV rental place. These are similar to the Class C models they have available.”
Ruby touched the picture on the brochure with her peachy nail. “Enjoy all the amenities of home! Ideal for ACC football, NASCAR race weekends, and hunting trips!”
With assorted brows raised and heads cocked, the three women studied Ruby.
“It says right here, sillies.” Ruby pointed to the six-point font of the copy beneath the photo of the unusually attractive group of sporty-looking friends, grilling and chuckling beside their gleaming rental RV. “And look,” she jabbed at another photo. “Look at that darling hot tub.”
“Ours will be a more basic model unless we pay an arm and a leg, but see how these walls slide out and give you so much more room?” Dessie pointed to a picture of a living area expanded out much wider than the sides of the RV.
Linny peered more closely at the photos. The bed space tucked neatly above the cab reminded her of the cozy fun of sleeping in blanket tents in the living room with her sister Kate when they were girls. She looked at the other members of the SWAT Team, chattering with excitement as they pointed out the small washer/dryer and clever bed that pulled out from under the dining room table. She felt a frisson of excitement and grinned. The road trip she’d thought of as a daughterly duty might just shape up to be a heck of a lot of fun.
* * *
The next morning Linny met her best friend, attorney Mary Catherine, at Jumpin’ Joe’s, one of the area’s only coffee shops and a hot spot for morning commuters. Her friend was waiting for her at a booth in the back. Looking sharp as usual in a crisp white high-collared blouse and a double-breasted black blazer, Mary Catherine frowned as she stared at the phone on the table in front of her. She moved the salt and pepper shakers around.
Linny caught Mary Catherine’s eye and gave her a little wave.
Her friend broke into a smile, rose, and gave her a hug that smelled faintly of lemon verbena. “Hey, married lady,” Mary Catherine said as she plunked back down in her seat.
“Hey your
self,” Linny said, smiling and picking up the menu to give it a quick glance.
Mary Catherine waved a hand. “I already ordered for us.”
The pink-cheeked waitress in the bell-skirted vintage dress slid two coffees, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a basket of muffins on the table. “Muffins are hot,” she cautioned.
Linny’s mouth watered as she eyed the supposedly healthy lemon raspberry muffins she and Mary Catherine loved. “Ah.” She breathed in the rich aroma of butter, cinnamon, and freshly baked bread. She dumped cream in her coffee and took a swallow. Heaven.
“We need to talk fast.” Mary Catherine pointed at her watch. “I have to get back to the office to get people lined up to interview.” She slumped in her seat. “Before we talk about your marital bliss, my office manager quit yesterday. Left at lunch and never came back.
“Resigned via text,” she groused, holding out her phone for Linny to read.
The office manager had simply written I’m not coming back.
“Oh, dear.” Linny took another sip of coffee and tried to look surprised. Her best friend since fourth grade, Mary Catherine could be brusque. But she did more than her share of pro bono work, made quiet donations to the Boys and Girls Clubs, and was a champion for victims of domestic violence. Mary Catherine had a heart the size of the Atlantic Ocean.
Her friend nabbed a muffin from the basket and peeled off the wrapper. Sounding plaintive, she asked, “So why does my staff keep leaving me?”
“Because you don’t say hello to them in the morning?” Linny suggested.
“I do too,” Mary Catherine said, looking injured.
Linny shook her head. “No, you don’t. James, that nice young paralegal who used to work for you, said he’d say good morning and you wouldn’t say a word back. Regularly.”
“Huh.” Mary Catherine paused for a moment and then looked rueful. “Sometimes I think good morning, but maybe it never makes it out of my mouth.”
