Robyn Carr - Moonlight Road

Life was so funny, she found herself thinking. She’d spent a lifetime protecting some of these material things—china and crystal, old quilts lovingly fashioned by her ancestors’ hands, linens brought all the way from Ireland—and now the pleasure it gave her to be passing them on to the next generation was immeasurable.

Another bunch of boxes held everyday items she planned to add to what George already had in the RV. They’d gone over the inventory on the phone and in e-mails so many times, she knew almost everything on the list by heart. Clothing, linens, kitchen items and bric-a-brac that she could live without she had already given away.

She and George had seen each other exactly four times since Christmas. Once she flew to Seattle to visit him over a long weekend and three times he flew to Phoenix, also for long weekends, visits that went spectacularly well. Maureen wasn’t naive. She knew that when people lived in close quarters for more than a few days or weeks, adjustments were necessary. She might even realize she’d made a mistake, but she didn’t expect to. As inflexible as she could be, George was three times as flexible as any man she’d ever known. His good nature had taken an entire layer off her previous narrow-mindedness.

George was now en route and she had talked to him several times a day since he left Seattle. He flew to Nevada, where he picked up the RV; it was only a year old, but had cost more than her condo. At long last her cell phone rang and he was an hour away; finally he was minutes away. “And promise me you’re not going to be standing in the parking lot!” he said emphatically. “I want to set her up for your first real viewing.” That meant he wanted to pop out the sides, extend the patio cover, turn on the lights and music. He wanted her to see her new home at its absolute finest.

Finally she received a text message; George was fond of texting. Rather than answering, she bolted across her patio, the pool area and to the parking lot in front of the complex. There he stood in front of the most beautiful masterpiece of an RV she had ever seen.

She stopped short and just forced herself to breathe deeply. This would be her home for at least six months and if the experiment was successful, for a few years. Her hand covered her mouth as she slowly stepped toward the luxury motor coach.

George laughed, drawing her attention to him. He leaned against the front of the vehicle, one leg crossed lazily in front of the other, arms crossed over his chest. He had the most engaging, lovely smile. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously; he had such pretty silver hair. A fine figure of a gentleman.

“You should give me a kiss before the tour so I at least get the impression I’m as important as the coach,” he teased.

“Of course,” she said, going to him. She put her hands on his cheeks, gave him a good enthusiastic peck and said, “Now can I see it inside? I’m dying to see it!”

“I sent you plenty of pictures,” he said. “And I invited you to come up to Nevada to see it in person, but I remind you, you wanted me to make the decision on my own and you did approve the pictures.”

It had seemed only fair. George was going to own it and she didn’t want him buying it for her. Nice of him to ask her opinion if she was to live in it for months, possibly years, but still…Of course, she’d offered to pay for half, but George was adamant—he’d be glad to put her name on the title, but he wouldn’t take her money. “Call me old-fashioned,” he had said, “but a man still likes to think he can take care of his woman.” In the end it was probably less complicated this way, since they’d both been married previously and had grown children.

They had it all planned out—he bought the RV in his name from the proceeds of his house sale. They both put their furniture in separate storage facilities—just till they were absolutely sure they were together for the long haul. It was a struggle, but George finally agreed to take five hundred dollars a month in rent from her; her savings and eventually the money from her condo sale was to stay in her possession. If they married—or when, as George preferred to think of it—they would work out some sort of prenuptial thing so that George could leave his RV and savings to his stepgrandchildren and to Noah Kincaid and she could leave hers to her sons. For right now both had pensions that would allow them to pay for gas, insurance, incidentals, hookup space, food, et cetera.

She stepped inside, up the steps. She ran a hand over the smooth white leather of the copilot’s seat—lush and rich. And then she stood looking into the interior. On either side were matching white leather couches and between them, what looked like dark, hardwood floors but was actually scuff-free laminate. Just beyond, a spacious kitchen on the left with all the necessary appliances and even an oak cupboard at a right angle to the kitchen that had decorative leaded glass on each side—the china cabinet. Opposite the kitchen, a dark marblish table stood with matching white leather sofa seats that could accommodate four for dinner. There were plenty of kitchen cabinets and storage above the sofas. Mounted above the driver’s seat, facing into the living room, was a fifty-eight-inch flat-screen TV.

“My God,” she whispered. “It’s larger than my condo and more beautiful than any house I’ve ever lived in.”

“You like it?” George asked from right behind her.

“It’s amazing.” She turned around to face him. “Is it hard to drive?”

“It’s easy. Those classes I took really paid off, even though I’d driven Noah’s RV in the past. I think you should take them, too. We’ll stop somewhere they have the classes and sign you up.”

“Can we? That would be so much fun.”

“You’d like that?”

“Oh, I’d love that! But of course, it’s your—”

He put a finger on her lips. “Let’s not do a lot of that, Maureen—all that yours-and-mine stuff. I understand we have an agreement, but we’re in this together.” He smiled. “And I love you.”

She leaned toward him. “That’s so nice to hear, George.”

“I suppose it is,” he said with a smile. “I imagine one of these days I might hear it, too.”

She grinned at him. “I was saving it for a special moment—like when we drink champagne tonight at dinner in the RV, but—”

“Perfect!” he said, interrupting her. “I’ll be ready!”

“Can we sleep in it tonight?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to see the rest of it first?”

“I’d like to see it, but can we?”

“Of course, if you feel like it.”

“My house is upside down with boxes. I tore the sheets off the bed and washed them. I put them in the charity box since the bed in here is a king and I’ve only had a double all these years. I think we’d probably be more comfortable in here, actually.”

“Then here’s what we do—load it up with the boxes for Virgin River and the household items you plan to add to our inventory. I made a reservation at a park so we can have a hookup. You’ll have to learn the difference quick—when we’re hooked up, the water, sewage and electricity belong to someone else and we don’t drain our supply or have the task of taking care of the lavatory. There will be times we dry-camp, when there’s no hookup, but when possible we’ll find a park with facilities. So—we have chores, don’t we?”

“There isn’t that much. Tomorrow when the movers come to crate the furnishings for storage, we’ll finish and you can help me tidy up. I hired a cleaning service—the condo management will let them in once we’re on the road. I used packing boxes by the measurements you gave me for the storage under the coach—I hope the boxes fit.”