RV There Yet?

by Diann Hunt

  “I’m dripping wet, Millie—and freezing—have I mentioned that?”

  “So is that a ‘no’?”

  “Grrr! Try your head!” I turn around and stomp off toward the motor home. Okay, maybe I’m being a little harsh, but I can’t help myself, for crying out loud. Shoving through the door of my room, I rummage through the dresser drawer. “Why I ever agreed to this stupid trip, I’ll never know. What was I thinking?” I yank a fresh shirt from the drawer.

  “That you might help save the camp and enjoy being with your friends?” Lydia’s standing in the doorway, her expression hopeful.

  Her presence so startles me, it takes me a moment to catch my breath. “I’m sorry, Lydia.”

  She closes the door behind her, and I change into my dry top.

  “What happened?”

  First, I tell her everything. Then without warning, I start to laugh. My anger has subsided, and I realize how ridiculous the whole thing must appear to onlookers. Lydia hesitates at first, then laughs with me. “All I wanted to do was get a drink of water.”

  “You got your wish,” Lydia says through peals of laughter.

  Both of us are letting off some tension. When we finally calm down, and my clothes are changed, we head back toward the dorm. We talk about how things are going and part ways once I reach the dorm. Steve is gone. Grabbing my bucket, I climb the ladder once more, and Steve walks in.

  “Where did you put my water?”

  I smack my forehead with my hand and look at him. “Did you ever have one of those days?”

  “So what do you do back home, DeDe?” Steve asks, steadying the paint can on his ladder.

  Thick paint covers my roller, and I lift it to the walls. “I co-own a chocolate company, Le Diva Chocolates.”

  “Really?” He chuckles. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Why is that?” Fresh paint lifts from my roller as I push it across the faded walls. Have I mentioned that my arm feels like putty?

  “Well, I remember how you loved chocolate, and you’ve always been a take-charge type of gal.”

  For a moment, I stop painting and look at him. “You think so?” For some reason that comment surprises and pleases me.

  “You helped organize a few things back in the day. Of course, it was usually something that got us all into trouble.”

  Back to painting. “You’re right. I do have a reputation.” I laugh. “I need to do something different in my business.”

  “Oh?”

  “There’s a new shop down the road from us, a chocolate shop, as a matter of fact, and, well, I’m a little worried.” Sopping my roller with more paint, I glance at him.

  “You afraid it will hurt your business?”

  I shrug. “You never know.”

  “How are the shops different?” His strong arm pulls his roller across the wall, and I struggle not to stare.

  “We both offer gourmet chocolates, though Shelley—my co-partner—says ours are better. The other shop owner offers coffee too.”

  “Why don’t you expand in some way? Offer a different twist.”

  While my paint roller rubs the wall, I think about that. My thoughts flit to the dessert bar we stopped at on our way to the camp. “I suppose I could offer a dessert bar or something.”

  “Now you’re talking. Always improving, keeping up with the times; that makes all the difference.” He steps off his ladder and pours more paint into his pan. “It’s a challenge, that’s for sure. I’m always looking for ways to set my business apart from the competition.” He lifts his pan and glances at me. “Hey, you could offer a free giveaway once a month. Something that would keep customers coming in to sign up.” He climbs the ladder again.

  “That’s a great idea!” My mind is already clicking. Creating chocolate boxes and baskets for special events is such fun. They are such a huge hit. Smaller ones could be made for giveaways. “Thanks for your help, Steve.” I’m so excited, I can hardly wait to get back and call Shelley.

  “You’re welcome. We businesspeople have to stick together,” he says with a wink.

  Something about this whole conversation makes me feel better. I’m thinking it has to do with more than just his suggestions. I’m enjoying working alongside Steve. Lydia was right. Why should I miss out on a good friendship? I think that’s what we have here. A nice friendship.

  We’re all a little quiet as we gather around the crackling fire tonight. Everyone has worked hard today. Steve comes over carrying a hot dog and chips on a paper plate and sits on the bale of hay beside me. Before I have time to feel uncomfortable, he bows his head to pray over his food. It takes a strong man to be a man of faith in this world. What a rare find. Why would a woman leave a guy like this?

  “Did you get in touch with Shelley today?” Steve interrupts my thoughts.

  “Oh, uh, no. She was out. I’ll call her in the morning.”

  “Speaking of the morning, rumor has it that tomorrow is your birthday,” he teases before taking a bite of hot dog.

  “I don’t do birthdays anymore.”

  “Fifty, huh?” He grins.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll get used to the idea. It took some time for me too.”

  I stare at him, wondering how this could be the same kid I knew in camp. I remember Steve being very sweet back then, but let’s face it, he was a nerd. High-water polyester pants, dark glasses—I just can’t believe this is him. He turns and catches me staring at him.

  “What? Is there something in my teeth?” he asks.

  I laugh. “You’re clear. I was just thinking how different you are.”

  He laughs out loud, causing the others to glance at us a moment before going back to their own discussions. “When Dad died, Mom remarried. My dad was a science geek. Loved him fiercely, but, well, he was too busy experimenting to worry about style and fashions. That’s all I had ever known. My stepdad helped me with those things. Changed my life, really. My ex-wife helped me too. She wouldn’t put up with the old me at all.”

  I nod and move a couple of pretzels around on my plate. “So did you drive straight here or fly?”

  “I drove my motor home.”

  My head jerks around to him. “You have a motor home?” What is it with people and these motor homes?

  “Yeah.” He looks proud. “I just bought it a month ago and figured this would be a good time to try it out. I’m just a couple of homes over from you. There’s your motor home, then two homes that belong to the camp for workers, and then mine.”

  “That big fancy one?”

  He laughs. “That’s the one.”

  “Wow, that looks really nice.” Talk about a big motor home!

  “Would you like to see it?”

  “Well, I—sure. I’ll ask Millie and Lydia if they would like to come along.” Twinkling eyes again. If he keeps this up, I’m going to put him at the top of my Christmas tree.

  After dinner, Millie and Lydia come along, and we follow Steve to his motor home. Eric sees Lydia leaving, so he promptly plants himself in the entourage. I don’t see chemistry between the two, but Lydia seems comfortable with his friendship.

  We step into Steve’s motor home, and my breath lingers somewhere between my chest and my throat. We all gather inside on the ceramic tile and stop short of the plush white carpet.

  “Nuh-uh. This is so not a motor home,” I say. “No offense, Lydia.”

  “None taken.”

  Steve laughs. “Yeah, it is. Just don’t call it a camper. We tend to frown on that.”

  “This is unbelievable,” I say, slipping off my sneakers at the door. Those behind me do the same.

  “You don’t need to do that,” Steve insists.

  “Oh, yes, we do. This is absolutely marvelous.” Taking in the spacious slide-out units, I can hardly believe how roomy everything appears. The posh white-leather seats in the driver’s area momentarily make me want to take a ride. The thick carpet squishes between my toes as I step over to sink into the
passenger’s seat. I swivel back and forth like a kid in a barber chair. The living room consists of a soft, velvety sofa in white and blue-gray tones and a white recliner on the opposite side of the room. Ample windows are at every turn, giving a gracious view of the subalpine forest surrounding us. A large flat-screen TV is perched near the ceiling just before the driver’s station, for viewing from the living room.

  The kitchen area is just beyond the living room. Fine sturdy oak cabinets grace the kitchen area, along with a fashionable table and chairs. Ceramic tile surrounds the area in front of the sink and cabinetry. The bathroom boasts a shower with glass doors, a large tub, ceramic tile, and all the conveniences of home. Now, for this, I could pass up a Hilton.

  As we step into the bedroom, we see a queen-size bed, hidden washer and dryer, and another large flat-screen TV in one corner, along with a full wall of mirrored closets with ample room for clothing and such.

  “If I hadn’t seen it, I never would have believed it,” I say, smiling.

  Steve seems pleased with our reactions. “Thanks. It’s just stuff, though. I try not to get too attached.”

  I stare at him. How can he say that? This is fabulous. “I’m actually surprised you don’t have a houseboat,” I say, teasing.

  “I do.” He almost looks embarrassed.

  Gulp here. Millie nudges me, though I’m not sure why.

  “But I can’t travel everywhere by boat. I needed something to take me places inland.”

  “A land yacht,” Millie says, nodding.

  We look at her.

  “Remember, that’s what they call the nicer places like this one, a land yacht.”

  “I don’t know that I would call it a land yacht, but that’s nice,” Steve says.

  “How do you have time to travel when you own a boating business?” I ask.

  “I’ve had it for thirty years. Built up a modest business, and my son helps me run it.”

  “Your son?” For some reason it surprises me that he has children.

  “Yeah. My wife and I have one son. Aaron is twenty-five, and we’re close. I was thrilled he wanted to help me with the business. I’m grooming him to take it over one day.”

  “Well, obviously you’ve done well for yourself,” I say, looking around.

  “You know, it is nice, and I’m thankful for it, but honestly I used to own a clunker motor home, and I can tell you, one is just as good as another as long as it’s home. You know, traveling and sharing the beautiful sights of the United States with the people you care about.” His gaze holds my heart perfectly still.

  Someone coughs, breaking the spell of whatever that was. We all visit awhile in Steve’s home and finally call it a night. Energized by the evening, Millie, Lydia, and I head back to our home away from home.

  “Well, this is it, DeDe,” Millie says. “Your last fling with youth. Tomorrow you’ll be old like the rest of us.”

  “You just had to remind me, didn’t you?” I step on a pebble and resist the urge to grind it to powder.

  “That’s what friends are for,” Millie says, her eyebrows shifting up and down for emphasis.

  Lydia locks her arm through mine. “Fifty is good, DeDe. You’ll see.”

  “Tomorrow I qualify for issues of the AARP magazine, Lydia. What’s good about that?”

  She thinks a moment. “Well, you don’t qualify for the senior-citizen discount yet.”

  Okay, she’s got a point. I’m good.

  By the time we step inside Lydia’s RV, I’m feeling a little better. And let me just say here that I’m not buying that whole one-motor- home-is-as-good-as-another thing.

  22

  The next morning the smell of chocolate tickles my nose, causing my eyes to flutter open. Who can sleep with chocolate lurking about? Millie and Lydia walk in, wearing smiles and singing “Happy Birthday to You.” Lydia is carrying a chocolate cake complete with burning candles. And can I just add that if we’re not careful, we could start a forest fire. I scoot myself up in bed and attempt to straighten my hair.

  They sing “Happy Birthday,” inserting “Happy fiftieth birthday, dear DeDe.” Millie sings the “fiftieth” part very loudly, and I’ve never seen such a huge smile on her face. She’s enjoying this birthday more than I am, doggone her.

  “Chocolate cake for breakfast?” Okay, I’ll take the good with the bad.

  “It’s your fiftieth birthday. You deserve it,” Lydia says, leaning the cake toward me.

  “No Pilates today?” I ask, hopeful.

  “None.”

  “True friends. Though you could have gone all day without reminding me that I’m fifty.”

  Millie snaps a picture. So much for that true friends business.

  “Oh, Millie, not now. I’m a mess.”

  “Trust me, you look great. And so much better than you will ten years from now.”

  “Oh, that helps. You really should go into counseling.”

  Millie’s nose hikes. “Because it’s your birthday, I’ve resolved not to argue with you today.”

  “Now, Millie, I ask you, what kind of birthday is that?” I wink at her, and she grins.

  “Boring?” Millie says candidly.

  “Exactly.”

  “Hurry up. You’d better make a wish before the candles melt.” Lydia still acts as if we’re kids.

  “Or burn up your RV—is that what you’re thinking?” I ask.

  “That does come to mind,” Millie says.

  “What in the world can I wish for? I have everything I want. I’m surrounded by my best friends at our summer youth camp in a beautiful setting.” I have to say Steve’s motor home has changed my outlook on the RV life. And just for the record, this change in my outlook has nothing whatsoever to do with his biceps.

  “Quick. Call 911. She’s delirious,” Millie says.

  “Ha-ha.” Closing my eyes, I make a wish that I’ll have many more birthdays to celebrate with my good friends.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I blow it out for all I’m worth, extinguishing the flame of every candle and practically stripping the sheets off the bed.

  Millie and Lydia clap.

  “Thanks, you guys.”

  Lydia smiles. “You know, DeDe, now that you’re fifty, you should try something you’ve never done before.” She thinks for a moment. “Like driving an RV or something.”

  “And why would I want to do that?”

  “No kidding. You think she could handle this thing? Remember, DeDe almost flunked out of driver’s ed,” Millie so graciously reminds us.

  “How was I to know that old woman was going to step off the curb?” I say in my defense. “Besides, I didn’t hit her. That should count for something.”

  We laugh, but I have to admit I’m a little miffed that Millie brought that up. Besides, I could drive a motor home if I wanted to. I just don’t want to.

  Millie sits down on my bed. “Do you know you slept right through ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’ this morning?”

  How is that possible? Millie’s playing could blast the snow off Longs Peak. “Wow. I must have been tired.”

  “Listen, DeDe, I know we like to banter and all, but, well, I just want you to know, I’m so thankful—”

  Boy, this is serious. Millie must think fifty is synonymous with death. She rarely expresses herself this way. We used to call her Spock. After I glance to make sure her ears aren’t pointy, I put my hand on hers. “I know. I feel the same way.”

  She brightens. “Thanks.” She stands, and I start to get up.

  “No, no. You have to stay in bed. We’re serving you cake and coffee in bed.”

  My eyebrow lifts. “Who am I to argue?” I settle back in and smile, plumping the covers around me. “Just be warned, I could get used to this.”

  “Well, don’t. It won’t last. Cinderella’s coach will turn into an RV at midnight tonight,” Millie says.

  I groan. “Thanks for the reality check.”

  “I’ll go cut your cake,” Lydia calls over
her shoulder. “I’m sorry to say we’re almost out of milk, so you’ll only get half a glass until we get to the store.”

  Every birthday has its glitches.

  Lydia and Millie spoil me through breakfast—and let me just say you haven’t lived until you’ve had chocolate cake and icing for breakfast—and we’re soon reporting for duty.

  Everyone wishes me happy birthday as I make my way to the dorm. Steve and I have finished the first bedroom, and now we’ve moved on to the next one. We’re already at the painting stage in the second bedroom.

  When I step inside, my eyes immediately are drawn to the far wall and to the outline of a bright red butterfly with the words “DeDe’s New Beginnings” beneath it.

  I stare at it, then turn to Steve. “Did you do this?”

  “I’m not much of an artist, but the butterfly represents a new beginning. Remember one of our camp verses, 2 Corinthians 5:17: ‘If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new’? It seems to fit our birthdays these days.”

  “I—”

  “This is a new season of your life. You’re not getting older, remember; you’re getting better.” He winks.

  Warmth shoots through me.

  He walks over to the wall and points to the wings. “I’ve given you the wings to fly, DeDe Veihl.” He turns to me and lifts a wide grin. “So fly.”

  Without warning, tears spring to my eyes.

  He walks over to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and looks me in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Dee. Did I upset you?”

  “No, no. That’s just really sweet.” He’s standing so close to me, I feel a little unsettled. The scent of soap and pine fills the space between us. My shoulder warms to his gentle touch. A tear slips down my cheek, and I look back at him. “Thank you.”

  His finger reaches up and tenderly lifts the tear from my face. “The best is yet to come, DeDe.” Something in the way he says that makes me think he just might be right.

  “Well, I’d better hurry up,” I say, pulling my gaze from him.

  He nods.

  An hour goes by, and I reluctantly paint over the butterfly, but the memory of it burns in my heart. Things seem to be changing for me. My friends gave me love and chocolate cake. Steve has given me hope.