Chapter 11
Harlow turned the volume up, staring at the television and Cheyenne Clifton riding a bike along a tree-lined street while humming a strange tune, see-sawing between childish and somewhat creepy.
While the set evoked images of a small town, Cheyenne’s outfit, in direct contrast, seemed out of place. Harlow wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“What is that woman wearing?” Lottie coughed loudly.
“She looks like she’s on her way to a heavy metal concert,” David said.
“Or some kinky costume party,” Aunt Birdie muttered.
“The outfit does seem a little…outlandish,” Harlow said.
Cheyenne pedaled along, a serene smile on her face which, to Harlow, was a welcome change from the typical snide and snarky look she bore as she peered down her nose at others with disdain.
Gripping the handlebars, she swerved around a shiny red VW van parked at the curb. A woman and her dog strolled along the sidewalk, giving Cheyenne a friendly wave as they passed by.
Her serene smile disappeared. The bike’s handlebars wobbled. She struggled to keep it upright while her expression, which now appeared to be akin to agonizing pain, gripped her.
The bike tumbled sideways. Cheyenne caught herself and hopped off, watching as it hit the ground. Leaving the bike where it landed, she hobbled to the sidewalk, wincing in pain.
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“An advertisement for issues of a delicate nature.” Lottie dissolved into a fit of laughter, clutching her gut. “So many…so many things could be said.”
Aunt Birdie smiled. Her smile widened. Watching Lottie, her lower lip started to tremble, her eyes brimming with amusement. “She’s literally advertising herself as a pain in the butt.”
“Shhh.” Harlow held a finger to her lips, struggling to hear the tagline. Don’t let the burn take you down. Abuttrezil is now available in easy-to-swallow tablets. Ask your doctor if Abuttrezil is right for you.
Cheyenne removed a pill bottle from her sling bag and popped the top on a water bottle that miraculously appeared out of thin air. She tipped her head and swallowed the pill; the smile returned.
Placing the pill bottle and water in her bag, she stood the bike upright and climbed on.
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The Abuttrezil advertisement ended with uplifting music as Cheyenne rode off into the sunset.
“What did I just watch?” David pressed the remote’s pause button.
“A woman who is so desperate to break into showbiz, she’s embarrassing herself.” Lottie swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”
“I’m not sure I would go around bragging about this,” Harlow said. “I think I know why the execs haven’t approved it yet.”
“Because she’s dressed like a hoochie mama?” Aunt Birdie asked. “And that’s only for starters.”
“Her creepy humming from the Jeepers Creepers movie would be my guess,” David said.
“It could be a combination of both. Other than the weird humming and extremely…odd…choice of clothing, she didn’t do half bad,” Harlow said.
“You’re being too kind.” Aunt Birdie patted her hand. “I had a good laugh, as well.”
“I should get going.” Lottie gathered her belongings. “I can tell you one thing…I’m going to have a hard time keeping a straight face the next time I run into Cheyenne.”
“Maybe you could ask her if she wants to go bike riding,” David joked.
Harlow made a chopping motion with her hands. “You can’t. I’m not sure how many copies have been distributed, and I don’t want to get my publicist, the person who sent it to me, in trouble.”
Birdie made a zipping motion across her lips. “As hard as this will be, my lips are zipped.
“Mine too.” Lottie left first with Aunt Birdie close behind. After they were gone, Harlow and her father took Mort for a long walk around the property. They passed by Aunt Birdie’s, noticing every light was on inside her trailer.
“I’m still concerned about her trip to Cuba,” Harlow confessed.
“Me too, but once Birdie gets a bee in her bonnet, you might as well save your breath.”
“On the flip side, I’m proud of her for following her heart and trying to make life better for those in need.”
“She’s put off starting construction on Petoskey Point, her new property, until she gets back. I told her there was no hurry. She’s welcome to camp here or stay in one of the cottages for as long as she wants.”
Harlow slipped her arm through her father’s as they meandered along the walkway, skirting the perimeter of the property. “Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Between my cottage renovation and the work going on here, we have enough to keep us busy.”
“More than busy.”
Father and daughter reached the inn, now a full-fledged construction site. She thought about the pin found in the fireplace. Maybe it was something, or maybe it was nothing.
An inkling of sadness washed over Harlow. The deeper into the construction project they went, the farther away her mother felt, as if removing the remnants was somehow taking Ginger with it. Taking her mother and any chance of figuring out how she had died.
It was as if David read his daughter’s thoughts. “You’re thinking about your mom?”
She nodded. “How part of her went with the pieces of the lodge.”
“Not a day goes by I don’t miss her.” He pressed his hand on his heart. “She’s still here…here in our hearts.”
“What I wouldn’t give to talk to her, to hear Mom’s voice one more time, to tell her how much I love her and miss her.”
“Me too, Harlow. Me too.”