9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
“So, no Kumbaya?”
Wes grabbed socks and underwear from his top drawer, then put them in the leather tote sitting on the bed. Frank was lying a foot away from it, watching Wes’ every move.
“So, what am I forgetting?”
Luke’s voice came from the doorway. “The fact that the cat can’t actually answer that question.”
Wes turned to him. “Damn, it’s ten already?”
“9:55.”
Wes looked through the tote. “I think I’m good.”
“Pajamas? Toothbrush? Underoos?”
“Check, check, and ignore.”
Frank suddenly realized someone else was in the room, and he jumped off the bed and ran under it. “And there goes Frank.”
“He’ll come out to eat as long as you leave the kitchen.”
“Why the hell do you keep that damn cat?”
“I can’t pawn him off on someone else. When I picked up a scrawny, wet, three-pound kitten from the side of the road, this isn’t what I had in mind. But he’s my responsibility.”
“And mine when you need a babysitter for him.”
Wes knelt next to the bed and lifted the comforter. “I’ll see you in a week, Frank. Be nice to your Uncle Luke.” Frank hissed, and Wes laughed. “Love you too, pal.”
“You could take him to the farm and let him chase rodents out of the barn.”
“Frank wouldn’t last a week out in the wild.”
“And…how is that a bad thing?”
Wes slung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up the tote. “If Frank dies on your watch, I’ll know it was under questionable circumstances.”
“Frank and I will be fine.” Luke followed Wes to the kitchen.
“There are some leftovers in the fridge, but if you don’t eat them by Tuesday, toss them.” He filled a travel mug with coffee.
“I’ll eat them before then.”
Wes had brought the plant home from his office. “And water the plant on Wednesday.”
Luke grinned. “Since when do you have a plant?”
“Since now. Don’t kill it.”
“Okay. Don’t kill the cat or the plant. Got it.” He hoisted himself up and sat on the counter. “You know, your life was a lot less complicated before you adopted that demon cat.”
“I need to hit the road.”
“Have a good week with forty teenagers.”
“It’s not the teens I’m worried about.”
Luke laughed. “The good doctor got you worried?”
“Not worried. More…” Wes scowled at Luke. “Get off my counter.”
Luke jumped onto the floor. “Yes, sir, Mr. B.” He walked behind Wes to the front door.
“Grab my guitar.”
Luke picked up the guitar leaning against the wall next to the door. “Are you driving up together?”
“I lost my head for a moment and suggested it.”
“I think you have some very conflicting feelings about Cassandra.”
“No kidding.” Wes tossed his two bags and the guitar in the back, then got into the Wagoneer. “Her daughter will be there to referee, though. So…”
“Poor kid. Maybe you should add a little something to your coffee to prepare you for the drive.
“See you in a week.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. Frank and I will be best buds by the time you get back.”
Wes gave Luke a wave, then drove off. He was about to spend three hours in the car with Cassandra. “Why the hell did you think that was a good idea?”
Wes drove the few blocks to Cassandra's house, and she opened her front door when he pulled up in front of it. She came out with two small pink suitcases and crossed the grass as he got out.
She smiled. “Morning.”
“Morning.” He looked at her bags.
“They were a gift.”
“Right.” He opened the back and took the suitcases. “Is this it?”
“For me. Bailey will be out in a minute.” She smiled at the guitar. “Are we going to be singing around the campfire?”
“That’s what camp is all about.”
“Do the kids agree with that?”
“Sure. As long as we play music they like.”
“So, no Kumbaya?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Oh, I forgot the snacks.”
“Snacks?”
“Can’t take a road trip without snacks.”
As she went back into the house, Bailey came out carrying a backpack, a large satchel with a flamingo on it, and a furry pillow. “Don’t let Mom’s cool demeanor fool you; she’s been running around like a crazy person all morning.”
Wes smiled. “She’s pretty good at covering things up.” Bailey cocked her head, and he held up a hand. “That’s not…” He took her bags. “Do you want to keep the pillow out?”
“Yes.” After he set her backpack down, she dug through it and pulled out a tablet. “Good to go.” She got into the backseat.
Wes leaned against the Wagoneer to wait for Cassandra. When she came out, she had a shopping bag and a small ice chest.
“Are you sure that’s it?”
“Yes.” She locked the door, then opened the back door and set the snacks next to Bailey. “Do you have everything, honey?”
“I’ve been ready for an hour, Mom.”
Cassandra closed the door and opened the passenger door. She looked at Wes over the roof, then got in.
Wes got behind the wheel and glanced back at Bailey. “Seatbelt?”
“Not my first time in a car, Mr. B.” He raised his eyebrows, and she sighed. “Sorry. It’s not you I’m frustrated with.”
Cassandra clicked her seatbelt. “That would be me.”
Okay. Three hours of mother-daughter passive-aggressive conversation. He turned to Cassandra. “Are you ready to go?”
“All ready.” She took two twenties from her purse and held them out to him.
“What’s that for?”
“To help with the gas.”
Wes started the engine. “That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.”
“Well, I insist more. Besides, you brought snacks.”
Bailey sighed. “You might as well take it, Mr. B. She’ll just keep insisting until you do.”
Wes took one of the twenties and tucked it into his pocket. “Happy?”
Cassandra nodded. “For now.”
He pulled into the street. “Here we go, then.”
Bailey was absorbed in her laptop, and Cassandra sat quietly, looking out the window at the passing scenery. Just when Wes thought it would be a quiet three hours, she turned to him.
“I heard it’s going to rain tonight.”
“That’s what they say.”
“So, how will that affect things?”
“It won’t. We’ll be able to have our first night campfire before it starts. Then we’ll spend Monday morning in the mess hall playing games. It’s supposed to clear up by the afternoon.”
“Okay. What kind of games?”
“Something involving teams. Get some friendly competition going. Trivia. Taboo. Something like that.”
Bailey tuned into the conversation. “Mom’s pretty good at trivia.”
“I know.” Wes glanced at Cassandra.
She smiled. “Mr. B is better, honey.”
Bailey returned her attention to her tablet. “I suck at it. Unless it’s about music.”
Wes looked at her through the rearview mirror. “Do you play the guitar, Bailey?”
“No. I always wanted to learn, though. That and the violin.”
“My granddad was a master fiddle player. Played in a local band for years.”
She looked at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. Rocco’s is named after him. The coolest guy ever.”
She glanced at Cassandra. “You’re lucky to have cool grandparents.”
“I’ve never met your grandparents, but I’m sure they’re cool in their own way.”
She leaned forward and rested her hands on the two front seats. “Mom, you never introduced him to Grandma and Grandpa?”
Cassandra turned and looked at her. “They were here, and we were in Boise. The opportunity never came up.”
Bailey leaned back and looked at her tablet again as Cassandra looked at Wes.
He kept his eyes on the road. Distance wasn’t the reason Cassandra had never introduced him to her parents. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and sped up to pass another car.
Once he was back in the lane, he forced himself to slow down. “So, what kind of snacks did you bring?”
Bailey held the bag out to Cassandra, and she set it in her lap. “We have mixed nuts, grapes, apples, and pretzels.”
Wes looked at her. “Have you never taken a road trip before?”
“Of course I have.”
He pulled off at the next exit, which advertised gas and food. “You’re such a novice.” He drove to the minimart, parked the Jeep, then turned to Cassandra. “Bailey, would you like a quick lesson in road-trip snack buying?”
She grinned. “Yes, sir, Mr. B.”
Cassandra scowled. “What about me?”
“You stay here and eat your mixed nuts and grapes.” He got out of the car, and she called to him.
“Fritos.”
He leaned in and looked at her. Fritos had been their go-to snack in college. “Original?”
“Of course.”
Bailey got out of the backseat, and they headed for the store. “She likes you, Mr. B.”
“Nah. She likes the boy I used to be.”
“Do you really think you’ve changed that much?”
“I hope so. I was an idiot when I was your age.”
Bailey laughed. “I doubt that.”
“I’m afraid it’s true.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cassandra, and she waved at him. He sighed. Maybe he was still an idiot.