Maybe.Forthe moment.
“Howcome you’re still here, anyway?”Iask her. “Waitingfor something?”
“You.”
Oh, now that’s interesting.Iput my hand on my heart and affect a dreamy gaze. “Aw, how sweet.”
“So?Whathappened?” she asks. “Letme guess.Youoffered them a stack of gold bars and they waved your application through?”
“Notexactly.”
“Oh, they made you fight for it, did they?Well, good for them.Maybethey do have spines after all.”
Hercommitment to the cause is admirable. “Maybethe meeting is no more your business than your socks are mine.”
Istep back and look her bus over from fender to fender. “Thisis quite the ride.”
Shesmiles and her shoulders relax a little. “It’sa 1968.Mydad fixed it up, bit by bit.Hefiddled with it for months to knock it into shape and get it all tuned up.”
Ilean in over the passenger seat and peer into the back. “So, where’s the stove and the, er…”Ilook her right in the eye. “Bed?”
Colorfloods her cheeks and she turns away.Theability to make her blush fills me with almost as much pride as whenIgot the full scholarship that meantIcould go to college.Pollydismisses me with a wave.
“WhenIdecided to start the shop, myDadtook all the camping stuff out soIcould use it for collecting produce and delivering orders.Itwas my celebratory shop-opening gift from him.”
Ilook at the lettering, vegetables, fruit, and flowers painted on the side. “Thishis artwork too?”
“God, no.Hecouldn’t draw a stick man.Thatwas allCarly.Myassistant at the shop.”
“Andis your dad okay with her drawing all over it?”
“Henever got to see it.”Shelooks down and picks at the edge of the driver’s seat.
Well, whatever that story is can’t be good.AsIflounder for a way to dig myself out of that one, she fortunately speaks first.
“Anyway.”Shelooks back up. “Whathappened?’
“Itwas a private meeting.”Itap the side of my nose. “Youmight be able to help me with something, though.”
“YouthinkImight help you get permission for the store?”Shehalf smiles and blows out a puff of air. “Iknow you’ve only just met me.Butyou have met me.”
“Yeah.Ihave, haven’tI.”AndImust admit, it’s the most funI’vehad in a long time. “Iactually just want to know what the best hotel in town is.”
“You’restaying?”Idoubt she’d sound more disappointed if she discovered her entire stock of avocados was rotten.
“Ishould probably be offended by the tone.But, yes.”
“Why?”
“Neveryou mind.”
“Ifyou don’t tell me, maybeI’lltell you the worst hotel is the best one.”
“Now, how amIsupposed to trust you?”
“BecauseIhave an honest face.”Shecups her hands under her chin and gives me an angelic smile.
Itis, indeed, honest.Andbeautiful.Ina farmy kind of way.
