After checking that and the undercarriage, the only concerning problem I discover is the suspension. Not that I’m surprised. Based on the motorhome’s nose-down position from the sale pictures, I came prepared with a few extra things in my suitcase. Lewis will be impressed I caught the suspension issue just from the picture... I mean, after I make Des refund him for the supplies.
All in all, it will be an easy fix before we head out on the road.
“It looks like she took good care of it,” I say and hand back the keys.
“She parked it inside of her barn when she wasn’t using it. Wanna see inside?”
The scent of musty mothballs slaps me in the face as soon as I enter. And if that hadn’t been strong enough to make my eyes water, the cat decor would. Crochet pillows, blankets, figurines on the counter, dish towels, pot mitts, soap dispenser, driver and passenger seat covers, and even a little paw print runner from the kitchen to the back room. The framed “I’m feline good today” sign on the wall seems like overkill.
“She must have loved cats,” Tristen says, stating the obvious.
“That she did. A shame she never owned one though since she was allergic. But it didn’t stop her from feeding every stray she met. All the decor is included at no extra cost.”
Oh boy.I get to keep the cat stuff too.
“Is that the shower?” Tristen asks suddenly, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “In the hallway?”
“Haha, yep. Be thankful the commode has a door. No lock though. All right, let me wait outside so I’m not hovering over y’all’s shoulders.” He heads out the door, his footsteps clonking down the metal steps.
“What do you think? You’re more of a builder than I am.”
Tristen shrugs. “I’ve never built a camper, but it looks okay. I don’t think she used it much.”
Through the main entry, on our right the overhead bunk is unfolded, complete with cat-themed bedding. On our left is a small kitchen. The couch is across from us and the broken dinette is next to it, the table concerningly snapped in half. All the way down is the single bedroom with, shockingly, more cat bedding on a queen-size mattress.
My hand rubs against the soft fabric of the bedding longingly. I’m running on complete fumes right now, and I’d donate a kidney to get eight hours of sleep.
“I wish I could find someone who looks at me likehow you are looking at that bed right now,” Tristen mutters from the open bedroom door.
I chuckle despite myself, and he takes it as an invitation to walk in. The two of us are cramped, shoulder to shoulder in the small bedroom. We stare at the hand-sewn cat curtain in silence.
“I’m tempted to leave all the cat stuff for Des,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Seems fair since he didn’t come pick it up himself.”
“I guess planning a wedding takes all his free time.”
“Pfft. Maya is doing all the work. He just hates leaving her.”
I stick out my tongue and gag. “The two of them are too much.”
“You say that now, but one day you’ll find someone to annoy—I mean love—all the time too,” he says with a forced laugh and heads back into the living room.
With one last longing glance at the bed, I follow him into the main living space.
“You know, if we paint the oak cabinets white, it might lighten it up in here. It’s a gloomy cat shrine right now, but I see the potential.”
He nods. “Really, it’s not bad. No soft spots in the floors. Air conditioning, water, and electricity all work. The fridge too. There’s some cold water in there.”
“I guess Des did his due diligence. The only thing we need to work on is the dinette.”
We both sit on the couch at the same time and nearly sink to the floor, the inner springs nonexistent. I grab for him as he reaches for me, and I bump my head into his chin.
“I think we need a new couch,” he says, his arms still around me.
“Yeah, that felt like a free fall into quicksand.”
It takes teamwork, but we both climb out. Tristen’s handlingers for a second on my hip before he steps away, spotting the ancient box TV. The heat print of his hand lingers distractingly.
