RV There Yet? Read Online Free Page B

Belle Woodriff, The Warden,” Millie and I echo together with a laugh.
    â€œOh boy, we were so in trouble for breaking curfew with her around,” I say.
    â€œBecause she knew we were always up to something.” Millie turns to me. “Especially you. How I let you talk me into such things, I’ll never know. I’m telling you, books are safer than friends.”
    â€œOh, come on, it’s much more fun doing something than just reading about it. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t want any part of spraying her bed with sugar water. If I remember correctly, you were all too eager to participate.”
    Millie brightens with the memory. Just as quickly a frown appears. “Well, how were we to know it would attract every mosquito and ant within a twenty-mile radius?”
    We burst into laughter.
    â€œFor putting up with us, the woman probably is wearing a huge crown in heaven as we speak,” I say.
    Hand over her chest, Lydia says, “She was a saint.”
    â€œAmen,” Millie and I say together.
    We talk awhile longer, reminiscing about our camp days. Lydia lets us know her motor home has had a recent checkup and should be as good as new when we start our trip. That makes me feel better—slightly—but I still don’t understand why we can’t all pitch in for Hiltons along the way. At least they leave chocolate mints on your pillows.
    Finally, we all grow tired and climb the stairs to our rooms.
    â€œNow, I want one of you to stay in my room.” Lydia raises her hand before anyone can protest. “Don’t argue with me about it, because it will do you no good. When someone visits, I give up my bed. It’s the most comfortable bed in the house.”
    Millie and I both fudge here. We’re a bit uncomfortable with the idea of taking Lydia’s bed. It just doesn’t seem right. Besides, we know there isn’t a bed in her house that is uncomfortable.
    â€œWhere will you sleep?” I ask.
    â€œIn one of the boys’ rooms. One of you will be in the guest room.”
    No one says anything.
    Lydia pulls a coin from her pants pocket. “Heads or tails,” she says, flipping it in the air and catching it. She turns to me. “DeDe?”
    â€œHeads.”
    â€œHeads it is,” she announces.
    Just then my cell phone rings. Slipping the phone from my purse, I see Rob’s name on the screen. I toss Lydia and Millie a smile, then tuck my ringing phone back into my purse.
    â€œAren’t you going to answer that?” Millie asks.
    â€œI’ll call them back,” I say.
    â€œOkay, well, put your things in there,” Lydia says, pointing.
    Once we settle into our respective rooms, I pull out my phone. Why does he keep calling me? Can’t he get it through his head that it’s over? With a deep breath, I shove the unwanted feelings away from my heart like a mess of clothes behind a closet door.
    I glance around Lydia’s bedroom. While the rest of her house and yard looks a bit unkempt, this room appears immaculate. Books, magazines, and forgotten projects clutter my bedroom back home. To make matters worse, I’m almost sure every disease known to humankind lurks beneath my bed.
    The funny thing is, this room smells a little musty. Not like Lydia at all. Maybe she hasn’t opened her windows in a while. Hauling my squeaky luggage across the hardwood floor, I heave it onto a chair, pull out my pajamas, then put them on. I plop on the bed and stretch out. It is heavenly, but how can I sleep without a book? The one in my suitcase is too emotionally draining right now. Glancing at the nightstand, I figure Lydia might have some reading material, so I open the drawer. It’s empty. How odd.
    Shame on me for being so nosy, but I walk over to the dresser and peek inside. Sweaters line the drawers. Clothes for the fall and winter. It suddenly occurs to me.
    Lydia doesn’t sleep in here.
    She appears as