Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 06 - Cozy Camping Page 10

  “What’s Veronica up to?” I asked.

  “She’s in the ladies shower house, but knowing it will be another hour before she emerges from it, I decided to head on back to our motorhome. After I drop off my soap and towel, I’m going over to the café to have some breakfast. Veronica said she wasn’t hungry, but then, she rarely eats breakfast. You know, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, according to nearly every source. Unfortunately I can’t convince her of that.”

  “I agree. Veronica is beautiful, but I worry about her dwindling weight. She’s so thin she looks like she could blow away.” I said this to Wyatt with genuine concern because his girlfriend seemed to be getting skinnier every time I saw her and was starting to look skeletal. I was worried about her health.

  “Can I tell you something in confidence, Lexie? I know Veronica wouldn’t want this to become public knowledge, but I trust you and need to have a sounding board if I ever need one.”

  “Of course you can tell me, Wyatt. It will go no further than me,” I promised, and it was a vow I intended to keep.

  “I know Veronica seems overly obsessed with her looks occasionally, but it stems from her childhood. Even her occasional rather vain remarks are nothing but false bravado, as if she’s trying to convince herself she’s attractive and not the ugly duckling she imagines. As a teenager, she was overweight, wore braces for severely buck teeth, suffered from bad acne, and was forced to wear large horn-rimmed glasses because her parents wouldn’t put out the money for contacts, convinced she’d lose them within a week. Because of her looks, she was a victim of bullying throughout most of her growing up years, and a sense of not measuring up has become firmly ingrained in her psyche.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” I exclaimed. “That poor girl. I hate to hear that, but I know how cruel children can be at times. There need to be stronger regulations that hold bullies responsible for their actions. Didn’t her parents talk to the school officials about the bullying?”

  “No. In fact, her mother actually ridiculed her. She told Veronica if she wanted the bullying to stop, she should quit eating so much, especially chocolate, which her mother claimed was also the cause of her acne. And her father, Horatio, was too wound up with his investments and career to pay any attention to her at all,” Wyatt explained.

  “But she’s so gorgeous now!”

  “Yes, but the names her classmates called her took a big toll, and created such a lack of self-esteem in her that she still sees herself as fat and ugly. Now she struggles with an eating disorder. Her only saving grace growing up was her grandmother, who always reminded Veronica she was a beautiful person, inside and out, and would one day be such a stunner, she’d make all her classmates jealous. She could see Veronica morphing into the gorgeous woman she is today, even though Veronica never could, and still hasn’t, I’m afraid. I’ve been trying to boost her self-esteem and confidence, but it’s tough because she’s still haunted by the bullying.”

  “Thank the Lord for her grandmother. Is she still living?” I asked.

  “Yes. Veronica visits her at the nursing home every Thursday. They’re very close.”

  “Oh, okay, now I see. That explains why she bought trinkets for some of the residents of Rockdale Meadows,” I said. “What a thoughtful gesture on Veronica’s part. Wyatt, I’m so glad you shared this with me. If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

  I felt bad that I’d ever wondered about Veronica’s obsession with her looks. Now that I was aware of what had prompted it, I’d be much more understanding. I wished there was some way I could help with the situation.

  To change the topic of conversation, because I could see Wyatt’s eyes tearing up, as I’m sure mine were doing also, I asked him if he’d had any ill effects from all the junk food he’d eaten at the fair.

  “Not at all,” he replied. “In fact, after we got home I heated up a frozen pizza to snack on because I was still a bit hungry.”

  Even as I’d asked Wyatt, I knew what his answer would be. I had watched this man devour six plates of crab legs and two more of mussels and shrimp at an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet, and then stop at a McDonalds on the way home for a McRib and a chocolate shake to wash it down, because as Wyatt said, “it was only available for a limited time.” He was a bottomless pit who could stomach anything he felt inclined to put in his mouth. Detective Johnston had the constitution of a Billy goat, but remarkably, Wyatt carried not one molecule of extra fat on his tall frame.

  I told Wyatt about the chainsaw carving demonstration at two, and then headed back to my own motorhome to fix breakfast for Stone, if he felt up to eating anything after a rough night with a bellyache.

  When I entered our rental unit, I found Stone lying on the couch, watching an old movie on a DVD that he’d borrowed from the selection in the office. In the movie, called Indecent Proposal, the billionaire character, portrayed by Robert Redford, offers another man a million dollars to spend one night with the man’s wife, played by Demi Moore. The man, played by Woody Harrelson, who the billionaire made this offer to, and his wife, are in dire need of money and have to decide whether or not to accept the proposal. It was a movie Stone and I had both seen several times.

  On the coffee table in front of Stone was a half-empty bottle of Pepto-Bismol. While he stretched out on the couch, groaning as only a member of the male species can over a little discomfort, I prepared some toast for him because he said that was all he’d be able to hold down. It was no wonder God had selected women to bear children. I would whine and moan less with two severed limbs than Stone would with a small splinter embedded in his finger. Still, his low tolerance for pain was one of the many things I found so endearing about him. As I spread butter on his toast, my husband of one year asked, “Would you sleep with Robert Redford for a million dollars?”

  Without hesitation, I replied, “Of course I would—if we could afford it!”

  It was not the response Stone had been hoping for, but he had to laugh at my instant reply to his question. After I assured him I would never consider sleeping with any other man, for any amount of money, he patted my knee, and asked, “Not even if we really needed the money and I begged you to do it?”

  “Well, then, that’s another story altogether. If it would make you happy, I would not hesitate to sleep with Robert Redford. I would never want to disappoint you, so I would bite the bullet and canoodle with Glamour Magazine’s ‘Sexiest Actor Alive’ winner for the last two years in a row if you asked me to. I would step up to the plate and make the sacrifice—if you insisted, of course.”

  “So very admirable of you, sweetheart,” Stone said, with a pat on my posterior. “That’s just one of the many reasons I love you so much!”

  * * *

  With the Vex Vaughn concert on our agenda for the evening, we all chose to hang around the campground and take it easy until it was time to catch the shuttle bus to the rodeo grounds. The concerts were held in the same location where the rodeos took place, and our standing-room-only tickets would place us right in front of the stage down on the floor of the arena. Anybody with sufficient oxygen in their brain had a comfortable seat up in the stands where they wouldn’t be jostled about and poked in the eye by cowboy hats for two hours. On the other hand, their chances of catching a two-dollar guitar pick were next to nothing. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

  After our bouts of carnivalitis, Stone and I had sworn off buying any food from vendors at the fair. In order to prepare for the evening, Stone planned to do nothing more than lie on the couch and watch old movies all day. Even the idea of watching a man carve a bear out of a log with a chainsaw didn’t appeal to him.

  Veronica had scheduled an appointment for herself at a spa and salon on the north side of town. Wyatt had made arrangements to borrow Stanley’s F-150 truck to take her to the salon and wait while Veronica had a manicure, pedicure, Brazilian wax, and something she referred to as a “salt glow.” Wendy explained to me that a salt glow was a
treatment designed to exfoliate your skin, whereas, a Brazilian wax was a treatment where you paid a licensed cosmetologist, or an Esthetician, a significant amount of money to torture you and make your nether regions look like a peeled egg.

  All I could say was that Wyatt must have the patience of a chopping block, and his girlfriend must have cojones like the bulls featured in the rodeo all week. An Esthetician would have to pay me a significant amount of money for me to let her do something like that to me. I guess it was my age showing, but I never imagined a woman shelling out perfectly good money to have a specially trained technician make them writhe in pain, or even that a man would be turned on by that sort of thing. But what did I know? I was way out of touch when it came to anything in the “erotica” department. I thought I was bringing sexy back when I bought a pair of white cotton underwear that didn’t cover up my belly button.

  With Stone, Wyatt, and Veronica’s days already planned, that left Wendy, Andy, and me to attend the bear-carving demonstration at two o’clock. In the meantime, we decided to go for a long walk up the road in hopes of getting photos of the herd of antelope that Emily said frequented the fields on either side of the RV park.

  Along the way, we discussed the possible motives Cassie Bumberdinger might have to kill her ex-husband’s new wife. Although there were several possibilities on our list, none seemed worthy of murder. It had looked to me as if Fanny had been doing her best to wear out her welcome with her husband on her own accord, and Wendy concurred with my assessment.

  Unlike his Uncle Stone, Andy was laid back and totally unconcerned about our interest in the murder, although he did seem a little surprised that his girlfriend had become involved in it with her mother. I was usually on the receiving side of Wendy’s displeasure when it came to situations like this. I can only imagine the conversations they’d had about me when I wasn’t within hearing range.

  Luck was with us, and we were able to get photos of a small herd of the pronghorn antelope, including a doe with twin calves walking along beside her. Occasionally the calves would take off on a playful romp, darting here and there like bunnies on speed. They were amusing to watch, and we spent nearly twenty minutes watching the animals’ antics until something spooked the entire herd and they took off like a bolt of lightning, and quickly disappeared from our field of vision.

  We returned to the campground just in time to grab a sandwich at the café and get to the tent area before the woodcarving presentation began. A campground employee we’d never seen before waited on us at the café while the Harrington’s college-aged daughter, Jennifer, took care of the cooking in the small kitchen behind the front counter. Our waiter told us that Kylie was working in the office for the rest of the afternoon and would be off all evening, because she too, had a ticket to the concert that evening.

  Once we reached the tent area, we could see a man resembling Paul Bunyon setting up several tables to display his merchandise, which would be available for purchase after the show. I looked around for Babe, Bunyon’s blue ox, but all I saw was an older model Dodge Ram with a bed full of wooden bears and other creatures. I spotted one I thought would be perfect to set on the front porch of our bed and breakfast in Rockdale, Missouri. I planned to purchase it if it wasn’t too ridiculously expensive. The bear’s paws were turned up, holding a wooden plaque that could be personalized with anything the buyer requested. I would have Harley burn a greeting into the plaque that said, Welcome to the Alexandria Inn.

  We stood around for nearly half an hour as more and more campers gathered at the pavilion. Just before the demonstration began, I spotted Kylie speaking with an elderly man. I caught up with her just as she turned to go back to her post in the office.

  “Hello again! I’m glad to see you made it,” she said. “You will really be amazed by the demonstration. You will be shocked at how fast he can turn a block of wood into an adorable bear statue.”

  “Yes, I’ve already picked out the one I want to buy, if someone else doesn’t beat me to it.”

  “Try to get in the front of the line then, because he tends to sell out fairly rapidly after every show,” Kylie said. “Hey, Lexie, look over there next to the lilac tree. That’s Avery’s ex-wife, Cassie Bumberdinger.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. The gorgeous redhead was so stunning, she could have been a super-model. I thought she bore a striking resemblance to Angie Everhart. I recognized her as the redhead lounging at the swimming pool area a couple of days earlier. “Avery Bumberdinger gave up that woman to be constantly demeaned and ordered about by Fanny Finch? He must not have the sense God gave a banana peel.”

  “Yeah, crazy isn’t it? But, you know what they say: beauty is only skin deep!”

  “Yes, I know, but in the case of Fanny Finch, ugly went plumb to the bone.”

  Kylie laughed and slapped my shoulder playfully. “Lexie! You should be ashamed of yourself to speak ill of the dead like that!”

  “I’m sorry. That slipped out before I could put the brakes on,” I replied, with just a hint of contrition in my voice. “But if ever there was an unlikely pair, it’d be that piece of arm candy and Avery Bumberdinger. What could have possibly drawn Cassie to him?”

  “Who knows? Evidently something did,” Kylie replied. “Well, enjoy the show. I better get back to the office before I have customers lined up outside the door.”

  I quickly went back to where Wendy and Andy stood with their arms around each other’s backs. Now that was a perfect pairing if I’d ever seen one, and I hoped their relationship would result in a marriage and several grandchildren for me to spoil and love.

  I pointed out Cassie Bumberdinger to the couple, and they were as astonished as I had been. Andy shook his head, and asked, “Has Avery had a lobotomy? That bombshell could be the dumbest grape on the vine, and I’d still be hard-pressed to trade her in on someone like Fanny Finch, who looked to me like she’d fallen out of an ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

  “Bombshell? Really, Andy?” Wendy asked him. “Besides, beauty is only skin deep, and Cassie could have a very annoying personality and be extremely difficult to live with.”

  “Now you sound just like Kylie,” I told her. “She just said the same thing, and I know you both are right, but I just can’t quite picture them as a couple.”

  Just then the roar of a chainsaw firing up distracted us. Without introduction or comment, Harley began shaving chunks off a large upright log in front of him. In what seemed like mere moments, a perfectly shaped black bear emerged, and the artist began burning definition into the statue with a small blowtorch. The crowd stood silently in awe as we watched the impressive transformation of the block of wood into a work of art. I was wishing I’d videoed the demonstration to show to Stone later on. He would have been impressed by Harley’s talent and skill.

  After the show, I was able to purchase the bear that had caught my eye and make arrangements to pick it up at the office the following day after Harley had personalized the wooden plaque for me. I handed him fifty dollars for the bear, knowing I’d really gotten a bargain. Wendy and Andy also purchased a bear to take home to their ranch that had a plaque which would read The Rocking V Ranch with a curved line below the V. The V stood for his last name, Van Patten, which I prayed would soon be Wendy’s last name, as well. It would have been mine if I’d chosen to take Stone’s last name when we’d married, but it seemed easier to me to leave things as they were, and Stone hadn’t argued.

  While the two of them were busy purchasing their bear statue, I walked over to the gorgeous redhead, who was now standing next to the pavilion. I was surprised to see two children standing with her; a strawberry-blonde girl, about ten or so, who was a miniature of Cassie, and a dark-haired boy who appeared to be a couple of years younger.

  The young girl was engrossed in reading a paperback I’d earlier seen her pull out of a backpack she was wearing. The book had Quantum Physics printed on the cover. How, I wondered, would a girl her age know anything about
that subject, or even care to know? I’d have expected her to be more interested in a Judy Blume novel. At her age, I was fascinated with Astrid Lindgren’s Pippi Longstocking. To this day, I’d rather be reading a story involving the pigtailed, eccentric child with super-powers, than anything even remotely related to physics.

  The boy was looking down, his hands in his pockets, dragging his right foot in a circular motion, stirring up a small cloud of dust. He had a forlorn air about him, as if the weight of the world was on his tiny shoulders.

  To break the ice and initiate a conversation with Cassie, I said, “Isn’t Harley unbelievable with that chain saw?”

  “Yes, quite a talented fellow,” she replied, without much enthusiasm. She didn’t seem to want to continue speaking with me, but that was never a deterrent to me when I was trying to dig information out of someone.

  “What brings you folks to Cheyenne?”

  “You mean other than the famous annual rodeo?” Cassie asked, with a touch of sarcasm. A simple “duh” would have sufficed to make her point.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “We’re here to take in some horseback excursions at the Rolling Creek Ranch.” Cassie now seemed more invested in the conversation. She threw her long red hair over her left shoulder, and continued. “After my divorce, I decided to take up horseback-riding as a new hobby, and I got my children involved with it, as well. My goal is for us to go on a horseback excursion in every state in the union, and after this week, we’ll have nineteen under our belt. Brandi wants to be a barrel-racer one day, and Chace has shown an interest in wanting to take up calf-roping in a couple of years.”

  “How do you find the time to travel so much?” I asked.

  “I’m a fashion model, but at my age, the modeling jobs are drying up as fast as my skin in the winter. Seriously, I buy moisturizer by the case. But I do have a part-time job, working as a claims adjustor for an insurance company, a lot of which I’m able to do on my computer when we’re on the road. My boss, who’s actually my Uncle Cole, is very accommodating.”