Home Sweet Gnome (9 page)

Esther was the first out of the RV, passport book in hand, motivation in her step. JT, a good hundred pounds heavier than Esther, was a little slower moving, clearly whatever she’d mixed in his cocktail mellowed him out. We only made it halfway to the entrance before she was on her way back. “Bad news,” she grumbled. She looked clearly disappointed and had the strong aroma of a distillery about her. “Visitor Center’s closed for the night.”

“Great!” JT clapped his hands together. It was his turn to be gleeful. “We can make it to Sturgis by one, two in the morning. I just need some dinner and I’ll be sober enough to drive.”

“What?” Esther asked. “Dinner, sure. I’m hungry. But we’re not leaving! I don’t have my stamp.”

“You can come another time. You only live a few hours away.”

JT and Esther would be nose to nose if she were only a foot taller. He could knock her down with his pinky finger, but Esther was holding her own. She was like a honey badger fighting a big lion. I knew who was going to win this battle and anyone who’d seen a documentary on honey badgers knew as well.

“No way.” Esther shook her head, curls springing and bouncing. “We’re here. It’s time to eat, then we’ll spend the night and get the stamp first thing in the morning.”

“I’m not sure what kind of food’s around here. We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere,” I said, enjoying the clear blue sky that went on forever. There wasn’t a fast food restaurant in sight.

“Then we head back to Billings,” JT countered.

“That’s going the wrong way!” Goldie added.

“I need that stamp,” Esther countered, her voice louder.

“You’re like a damn honey badger with that stamp, Esther,” Velma said, tossing her hands up in the air. Wow, Aunt Velma and I thought the same thing about how persistent the woman could be. We must have seen that same documentary. “I mean, really? It’s a dang stamp. Let it go.”

JT smiled at Aunt Velma with blatant relief. “Thank you.”

“I’m in agreement, but we need to find some food,” Aunt Velma added. “I’m starved.”

“If you hadn’t literally hit that drive-thru, we’d have eaten those wraps and wouldn’t need to stop,” Esther glared at Goldie.

Goldie arched a brow, but kept quiet.

“Why can’t we just eat what we brought in the RV and be on our way? You guys can stop here on your way back when neither JT nor I are with you,” I offered, trying to be diplomatic. I didn’t want to stay overnight to get the silly stamp either, and I was hungry.

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

“I guess that’s all right,” Esther said, although fairly glumly.

“I guess we don’t have to head back to Billings if we can take a back road to cut down to Sturgis,” JT said, compromising.

“Fine, then. I’ll whip something together,” Aunt Velma said, already walking back to the RV, her words carrying over her shoulder.

“Oh, no. You burn water. I’ll cook,” Goldie ran to catch up and keep pace with Velma. She was right. If Aunt Velma got near the food, we’d either starve from eating rabbit food or wouldn’t eat at all because she’d ruined it.

Esther moseyed along behind them, obviously disappointed she didn’t get her stamp.

Once inside, Goldie began digging through the grocery bags of food to pull a meal together. “What the hell?” she muttered, shaking her head. She was leaning over, head in the tiny, college dorm-room-sized fridge.

She pulled out a—

“What the hell?” Esther repeated.

—ceramic garden gnome.

“That Zach. I tell you.” Goldie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “He’s obsessed with this ridiculous gnome. Wow, it’s really cold.”

She placed it on the small table in front of me. It was about a foot tall, big white beard, blue jacket, creepy smile. I swear it was leering at me.

“Why did he put that thing in the fridge?” Esther asked.

Goldie returned to her work, pulling out cold cuts, condiments and started to build sandwiches. “He got it at a garage sale last summer. You wouldn’t believe the stories that gnome has. It leads quite a life. Last month it went to Alaska.”

I looked at the devilish guy. “Zach wants it to go on the road trip with us?”

Goldie shrugged. “All I know is that we need to keep it safe until we get home. Even though he left it with us, that little guy’s special to Zach. Even named it.”

“Well?” Esther prodded when Goldie didn’t say more. “Don’t keep us guessing.” She went over to the pet carrier, squatted down and opened it. I was waiting for a cat to leap out and attack her, but when Esther reached in, she pulled out bright orange tabby cat. Climbing into the recliner, she put it on her lap. After spinning a few times and kneading her legs, it curled up and went to sleep.

“George,” she replied, eyeing the cat.

JT just shook his head and stared at George the Gnome. “How hard can it be to babysit a garden gnome?”

The RV lurched from a pothole and George teetered on the table. I grabbed it before it could plummet onto the linoleum floor. I exhaled, relieved it hadn’t broken. “Yeah, how hard can it be?”

Over the next hour, turkey sandwiches were made by Goldie while Velma drove on a state road back toward Interstate 90, meeting up with it southeast of Billings to get us back on track toward Sturgis, and ultimately Omaha. Esther was the drinks lady, mixing fruity cocktails for all of us—except Velma—to go with our meal. Without a place to sleep, the cat had gone off into the back bedroom and hadn’t been seen since.

“If you aren’t going to eat your fruit, you might as well drink it. It’s important to have a healthy diet.” She returned to her recliner, her drink in the little built-in cup holder, paper plate in her lap. Goldie sat with me at the little dinette and JT across from us.

“How long is your vacation?” Goldie asked JT.

“Ten days.” He chomped on a chip.

“That’s a nice bike you have,” Goldie added, clearly trying for small talk.

JT just glared at me, remembering I was the one that had broken it. I glared at Goldie, not thankful she’d reminded JT
why
he was riding with us. I took a big gulp of my drink. My eyes watered. Wow, it was strong and had plenty of vitamin C.

“I like it,” JT finally said. “I guess I have to thank you for arranging with Bob to have it fixed.”

Goldie just shrugged. She’d put on a hot pink hoodie over her T-shirt. “It’s the least we could do. Right, Daphne?”

“Right,” I agreed quickly. “What kinds of things do you do at the Rally?”

“More like
who
,” murmured Goldie.

“What?” I asked, confused. We hit a pothole and I bounced up in my seat.

Goldie shook her head as she sipped her own drink. “What’s in this, pineapple?” she called to Esther.

“Secret ingredient. Not telling,” Esther replied. I really didn’t care what she put in it. It was tasty and if it could numb my senses, it would be all the better.

“I’ve never been before, but friends of mine are already there and invited me to catch up.” JT took a healthy gulp of his drink. “My days off were short notice.”

“Oh?” Goldie asked. “You mean your trip wasn’t planned?”

I swear JT blushed, but I couldn’t tell. It was starting to get dark and the RV’s lights weren’t overly bright. Things were starting to get a little blurry around the edges from the drink.

“I got the time off because of that call out on Baxter Road,” JT murmured.

“You were on that call?” Velma asked from the driver’s seat. She might have had her eyes on the road, but her ears were on the conversation.

JT nodded, his mouth a thin line. “It was pretty bad. All of us who responded were given some leave.”

I looked at Goldie. She wasn’t smiling. “What call?” I asked.

“Some drunk driver on the wrong side of the road. You should tell it, JT, not me.” Goldie took a bite of her sandwich, letting JT take his time to respond.

“A family was killed. It wasn’t pretty. End of story.”

My sandwich felt like lead in my stomach. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Now you’re going to go to Sturgis for a little fun,” Goldie said, her voice filled once again with verve. She even waggled her eyebrows.

I darted a glance at JT.

He grinned. “We’ll see.” He turned those dark eyes on me, looked at me in a way that had my toes curling in my sneakers. “We’ll see,” he repeated. “What about you, Daphne?”

I pointed a chip at myself. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. What’s this with Thailand?”

I arched a brow. “Now you believe me?”

He shrugged, tipped up the corner of his lip. “You have to admit, it’s a good front for being Silky Tangles.”

“Silky Tangles?” Esther asked. She narrowed her eyes at me. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re pretty smart going off and doing that job on the sly. I could pull it off if I was a few years younger. My breasts aren’t quite what they used to be.”

Goldie chuckled into her drink. JT shifted uncomfortably, possibly from the visual Esther shared or indigestion. How Esther knew who Silky Tangles was had me putting down the remainder of my sandwich for good.

The RV came to a stop. “Okay, people. I need a break. I’m starving,” Velma said as she turned off the engine and came into the back to join us. I glanced out the front window. We were in a Walmart parking lot, the farthest spots from the entrance.

“Where are we?” Goldie asked, glancing out the side window.

“Hardin,” Velma replied, making herself a sandwich.

“I’ll drive,” Esther piped in.

“Oh no, you don’t,” JT said. “You’ve had way too much to drink and that secret ingredient you mentioned has to be some kind of moonshine. Unfortunately, none of us can drive except Velma.”

“In that case, I say we spend the night here, get schnockered, then head out in the morning,” Esther said. She worked her way out of the recliner and grabbed everyone’s cup, added a new one for Velma, and lined them up on the tiny countertop.

JT glanced at his watch, rolled his eyes. “We’ve been gone ten hours and only made it two hundred miles. At this rate, we’ll be in Sturgis in three days.”

“Then have yourself another drink. It’ll change your whole outlook.” She handed him a full cup.

“We’re in Montana, one of the prettiest places on earth and our view is the Walmart parking lot,” Goldie grumbled.

“Just for tonight, GG,” Velma commented, taking the cup Esther offered her and taking a big sip. “Wow, that’s a serious drink. I’m too tired to search for a campground. Besides, you can always park your camper overnight at a Walmart.”

I wasn’t getting involved in this one; I was along for the ride. I knew going in that this wasn’t going to be a straight shot to Omaha since nothing with Aunt Velma went as planned. I’d hoped, but deep down knew, that I was doomed. It was going to be an adventure, I just didn’t know what it would entail. JT, on the other hand, had to come to the realization that Sturgis might not actually happen. Maybe he had come to terms with this because he was putting back the drink Esther just handed him like a fraternity brother.

“Let’s play a game,” Esther said, settling back into the recliner.

I had no interest in playing Quarters, and Truth or Dare with this group would give me nightmares.

“What game?” Goldie asked.

“What’s the one word you hate?”

“That’s a game?” Aunt Velma asked.

“Sure,” Esther countered. “I’ll start. I hate the word tabernacle.”

“Tabernacle?” Goldie repeated, shaking her head. “What on earth is wrong with that?”

“It’s the ‘nacle’ part. It just sounds weird. I mean, it’s just a funny-sounding work for church. What’s the point?”

Okay, the word
was
weird.

“Your go next, Daphne,” Esther said.

I thought for a moment. “Slacks.” Everyone glanced at me. “What? Old grandpas wear slacks, so I hate it when I read in books these thirty-year-old hot guys wearing slacks. It ruins it.” I took a gulp of my drink. “Pants is better.”

The ladies considered it and somewhat, if not grudgingly, agreed.

“I don’t like the word demure,” Aunt Velma said.

Goldie frowned. “Why not? What on earth is wrong with it?”

“I don’t know if it’s supposed to be said like ‘I want
more’,
or like a ‘mural’.”

“I say demure,” Goldie said, using the
mural
sound.

“Well, I say the opposite. Demure,” Velma countered with the
more
version.

“It’s like caramel. Is it car-mel or car-a-mel?” Goldie asked.

We all piped up with our different versions.

“Your turn, hot stuff,” Esther said. We all looked to JT.

“Panties,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink.

My mouth fell open. So did the others.

“Why?” I wondered.

He shrugged. “Just don’t like saying it.”