Jackrabbit Junction Jitters Read online

  “And the drive leading right up to the sites isn’t good enough?”

  “What’s going on?” Claire asked, leaning next to Manny.

  “Manny wants me to remove some mesquite and paloverde trees so he can spy on my other campers.”

  “Ah, mi amor.” Manny’s voice took on that velvety Latino lilt meant to woo women out of their underwear. “You wound me with your words. I was just trying to help boost your business.”

  Ruby bent over the counter, resting her elbows on the scarred wood surface, her smile playful. “Sure you were, honey. And I bet it’s a pure coincidence that a cute little blonde in a Fleetwood just rented site B15—which sits on the other side of these very trees.” Ruby tapped the trees drawn on the map.

  “An amazing coincidence.” The laugh lines deepened around Manny’s eyes. “I’m sure Claire would be happy to clear some brush today.”

  “Right, no problem.” It was supposed to top out at 105 degrees this afternoon. Claire jabbed him with her elbow. “I’ll roll around in some zinc oxide and get right to work on that.”

  “Wear a bikini.” Manny wiggled his eyebrows at Claire. “You’ll look like a mud-wrestling ghost.”

  Chuckling, Claire stole one of his V-8s. “You need to seek counseling.”

  “Without these here trees, loverboy, what would I do for a privacy screen for these sites?” Ruby traced a circle around the small group of tent-only camping sites clustered in the middle of the map next to the trees.

  “Who cares?” Manny shrugged. “They are a waste of real estate. When’s the last time you rented one?”

  “Just last week.”

  Manny waved Ruby’s answer aside. “They aren’t even lettered right. All your other sites have an A or B in front of them. These have an I. Makes no sense.”

  “I agree, but Joe had the maps printed before I came along, so until I have to order new ones, the tent sites stay.”

  Ruby dropped onto the stool and crossed one leg over the other, kicking her foot. “I have an idea, Manny. Why don’t Chester and you just walk over and say ‘howdy’ instead of eyeballin’ my other campers through your binoculars?”

  Manny acted shocked—wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and all. “Those are for bird watching.”

  “Sure, darlin’. But if one of your little birds comes in here squawkin’ about a certain skinny dipper and his peepers, I’m sending Harley to take those bird-watchers away from y’all.”

  The clock in the other room cuckooed to mark the half-hour.

  Claire grabbed the small notepad next to the cash register. She’d better get to work opening that safe before the pressure cooker whistle blew outside. Weed-whacking under the noontime sun was about as fun as swimming with electric eels.

  “Ruby, do you mind if I take care of some business downstairs before I get started today?”

  “Sure thing, honey.”

  “Take care of what?” Manny eyed the notepad suspiciously.

  “Girl stuff.” Claire tucked the pad out of view.

  “You know I love girl stuff.”

  “Manny, mind your own business. Claire, take your time. Jess can take over here if I need help.”

  Claire slipped through the curtain and down the basement steps. Flipping on the light, she locked the door behind her this time. The smell of dust and cement greeted her. She pulled out the bookshelf and dropped onto the hard floor in front of the small door.

  She started pushing numbers at random, counting under her breath as she went. When she punched in a ninth digit, the Error light glowed red.

  “Eight it is.” She hit the Clear button a couple of times.

  Leaning the pad of paper against the door, she punched in the first group of numbers she’d asked Ruby to write down—Joe’s birthday, including four digits for the year—and held her breath.

  Nothing happened. No click, no clunk. The door didn’t pop open. She’d figured that was too easy, but she had to try.

  Claire exhaled and punched in the next set, this time Ruby’s birthday. Nothing again.

  Next came Joe and Ruby’s wedding day, then Jess’s birthday, then the date Joe officially retired. Still nothing, but she had a bunch more possibilities to go, thanks to Ruby and her knack for remembering dates.

  Thirty minutes later, Claire was ready to go out to the tool shed and get the sledgehammer. She took off one of her thongs and threw it at the safe. It hit with a soft thwap.

  She’d tried every number on the list, then a few more she’d made up. She’d ransacked Ruby’s desk, checking every nook and cranny.

  She’d entered invoice numbers and dates of purchase for everything from the novelty cannon pencil sharpener on his desk to the SL500 Roadster Convertible he’d totaled when he’d had his stroke.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” Claire glanced around the room, frowning at the mess she’d made.

  “It’s Jess.” The girl’s voice was muffled by the slab of pine between them. “Mom needs you upstairs.”

  “Damn!” Claire closed the top desk drawer. “Tell her I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  “What are you doing?” Jess’s voice came from the crack in the bottom of the door this time.

  “Nothing.” Claire scooped up a pile of doctor and lab invoices and crammed them into one of the side drawers.

  “Then why are there papers all over the place?” Jess would have made a good Inquisitor General for the Spanish.

  “Ummm, I dropped something.”

  “Where’s your other shoe?”

  Christ! “I had an itch.”

  “Are you looking for my money?” Jess whispered loudly.

  Claire paused in the midst of trying to close a stuck drawer. Jess was going to have to get off this kick about the money being hers. True or not, she didn’t need to be throwing news about Ruby’s money around like rice at a reception. It would only attract unwanted attention.

  “No.” Claire gave up on the drawer and grabbed her thong. She unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to see Jess with her cheek pressed against the floor.

  Rising to her feet, Jess smiled sheepishly at Claire.

  “Let’s go.” Nodding toward the steps, Claire waited for Jess to lead the way.

  As she crested the top step, Claire hesitated at the sound of Deborah’s voice coming from the other side of the green curtain. After last night’s rant, she’d vowed to avoid her mother today.

  “You didn’t tell me my mom was here.”

  Jess paused halfway across the rec room shag. “Kate’s here too.”

  Taking a deep breath, Claire followed Jess through the curtain.

  “There she is!” Kate stood behind the counter, her smile flashbulb bright, her eyes fifty-cent pieces. She looked like she’d slammed three espressos in a row.

  Deborah looked up from the latest issue of Vogue long enough to give Claire a frown-filled once over, then returned to flipping through the pages.

  Approaching the counter slowly, Claire glanced around. “Where’s Ruby?”

  Had Deborah eaten her already?

  “She’s getting her keys.” Her mother brushed a nonexistent piece of lint from her peach silk blouse.

  “Is she going somewhere?” Running as far from Gramps’s family as a tank of gas would take her sounded great to Claire.

  “Mom and Ruby are going to Yuccaville.” Kate was still grinning as if she’d slept with a coat hanger in her mouth. Her frozen jack-in-the-box expression was starting to give Claire the willies.

  “They’re going to go shopping.” Jess sounded a bit wistful. “And have their nails done.”

  Claire leaned against the counter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mom.”

  “I don’t think it’s any of your business, young lady.” Deborah’s pale blue eyes challenged Claire.

  Ruby came swooshing through the curtain, her purse in one hand and her pickup keys jingling in the other. “Sorry to bother you, Claire, but your mom insi
sts on kidnapping me for the day.”

  “Ruby could use some pre-wedding pampering.” Deborah’s smile was a total forgery. “Coddling for the bride-to-be.”

  Claire glared at her mom. More like strangling for the bride-to-be if Deborah was allowed to spend the day alone with Ruby. An idea flitted into Claire’s head. “You’re right, Mom.”

  “I am?” Deborah did a double-take. “I mean, I know I am.”

  “And since Jess is the maid-of-honor, she should go with you guys and enjoy the pampering, too. It will be a little event just for the bridal party.”

  Jess’s gaze whipped to Ruby, her mouth open in a half-grin, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, can I, Mom? Please?”

  Deborah scowled at Claire, thunder rumbling over her brows.

  “That’s not up to me, honey.” Ruby looked at Deborah.

  In a heartbeat, Deborah was all teeth and titters. “Of course you can go, Jessica. It will be fun.”

  Jess squealed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She skipped to the door behind her mom and Deborah. “This is going to be so cool.”

  Claire and Kate followed them out onto the porch.

  “Do you realize that we’re going to be sisters soon?” Jess asked Deborah as she hopped down the steps. “I’ve always wanted a sister. I mean, you’re a lot older than I wanted, but it’s not like you’re going to die tomorrow.”

  Claire laughed under her breath at the visible tightening of her mother’s shoulders.

  “Oh, Claire.” Ruby paused as she opened the driver’s side door of the old Ford pickup and let Jess slide into the middle of the bench seat. “I forgot to tell you that the toilet in the men’s restroom down by site B23 is plugged again.”

  “Crap!” Claire growled in her throat.

  Kate snickered. “Literally.”

  Ruby shut her door and started the truck. She leaned out her open window. “We’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “Have a good time.” Claire waved at Jess and Ruby, avoiding her mother’s furious gaze.

  As the pickup rattled off down the drive and over the bridge, Kate sighed. “That was close. Quick thinking on your part. I’m impressed.”

  “You should be. I haven’t even had any caffeine yet.” The ringing of the phone caught Claire’s ear. She rushed inside and picked up the receiver. “Dancing Winnebagos R.V. Park.”

  “Good morning.” A familiar male voice she couldn’t quite place came through the line. “Is Kate Morgan there?”

  Claire glanced at her sister, who was chewing on her lower lip while staring at the rack of granola bars. “May I tell her who’s calling?”

  “Porter Banks.”

  * * *

  The late afternoon sunshine reflected off the front window of a shiny blue Ford F250 pickup parked in front of the General Store.

  Claire looked across the valley at the violet rain veil that dangled from thick, dark clouds; the whole mess aiming for the Rabo de Gallo Mountains in the distance. Jackrabbit Junction had escaped the apocalypse—this time.

  Noticing Mabel’s polished black hood as she walked by the old Mercury, Claire wiped her forehead and then grimaced at the coat of grit and sweat on her skin.

  Her shoulders drooped after a day of rolling with the punches.

  First, she hadn’t been able to crack the safe.

  Then that damned toilet won round two, at least until she could make a trip to Yuccaville for some plumbing parts.

  Next, one of the washing machines choked on a sock and proceeded to leak all over the floor in the laundry room when Claire performed a modified version of the Heimlich on it.

  Then, the grand finale—while weed-whacking around the tool shed, a rattlesnake shot out of the knee-high grass, rattled and hissed, and chased Claire up onto a picnic table. For thirty minutes, she baked in the sunshine at what felt close to 450 degrees, and squished roving harvester ants for entertainment until the snake finished sunning itself and slithered away.

  She loosened her tool belt and let it hang low on her hips as she climbed the porch steps. A storm-fresh breeze swirled past, tickling the nape of her neck with tendrils of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. With one last glance at the receding squall, she pulled open the door.

  The cardboard version of Elvis stood at the end of the chips and pretzels aisle as usual, offering Claire his can of Diet Coke. She tapped him on the nose as she passed by. “Where is everyone, Elvis the Pelvis?”

  She grabbed a Hostess Cherry Pie from the shelf and tossed a dollar bill onto the counter. A brochure for Sam’s Town Hotel and Casino lay next to the spare change dish. On the radio, Randy Travis sang about being too gone for too long. Claire wished he were singing about her.

  Lumbering toward the green curtain, she tore open the wrapper, crammed a third of the pie in her mouth, and groaned as the sweet cherry filling and glazed pastry dough spread over every taste bud.

  All she wanted to do was crawl into a tub of cool water and soak her bones, a margarita in one hand and pastrami on rye in the other. Maybe Mac could peel some grapes for her, run a sponge over her back, hand wash her …

  As she stepped through the curtain, two things hit her at once.

  First, the aroma of vanilla and cedar.

  Second, the urge to run.

  Across the rec room, Deborah sat on the couch, her back straight, her hands folded and resting on one knee—a Norman Rockwell picture of Ms. Prim and Proper, except for the gape-jawed stare she was giving Claire. Next to Deborah, Porter Banks leaned back against the cushions, looking like he’d just finished shooting a Stetson-for-Men commercial and forgotten to shuck the ostrich-skin boots and cowboy hat.

  “Claire!” Deborah’s tone was high and screechy.

  Claire winced. She’d heard similar sounding shrieks coming from the baboon cage at the Rapid City Zoo last summer. She swallowed the lump of cherry pastry in her throat and waved, struggling to smile politely at the romance novel cover-model now rising to his feet.

  “Hello, Claire.” Porter’s extra white teeth nearly blinded her. His green eyes flirted as his gaze traveled down over Daffy Duck to her grease-smeared jeans.

  Kate flounced into the room from the hallway leading back to Ruby and Gramps’s bedroom. “Thanks for waiting, Porter.”

  Her hips swished more than usual under her paisley, sarong-style skirt. Her blonde curls bounced with every step. A sweet-smelling, fruity cloud of Angel perfume followed her into the room.

  When Kate saw Claire, a squawk of laughter burst from her mouth, which she quickly covered with her hand. Her shoulders shook under her mint green tank top.

  “Oh, can it!” Claire took another bite of her cherry pie. So she was a little dirty, what was the big deal? There hadn’t been time to run for cover when that dust devil had swirled along the drive, coating her with sand and dust.

  “And that’s our cue to leave.” Kate grabbed Porter by the arm and tugged him toward the curtain. “Don’t wait up.”

  Claire stepped to the side.

  “Nice to see you again, Claire.” Porter tipped his hat as he skirted her. He grinned back at Deborah. “I sure enjoyed meeting you, Ms. Morgan. I can see now where your girls get their good looks.”

  Rolling her eyes at her mother’s blush, Claire breathed a sigh of relief after they disappeared through the curtain. Swallowing the last of her pie, she headed for the kitchen. The smell of fried burgers teased her stomach.

  Gramps peeked out from the kitchen doorway. “Are they gone?” He didn’t even blink when he caught sight of Claire. “Oh, there you are. Did you get that toilet fixed?”

  Ruby walked out around him, took one look at Claire, and smiled. “Let me get you a washcloth.” She hurried past Claire.

  Nostrils flared, Deborah whirled on Claire. “That was rude and disgusting.”

  “What? I was chewing with my mouth closed.”

  The back door opened and Chester and Manny barreled inside.

  “And when I asked her to blow on my schnitzel
,” Chester said, “she slapped me.” He stopped short when he realized he had an audience. He started wheezing when his gaze hit Claire. “Damn, girl. You look like you crawled out of the back end of a mule.”

  “Ay yi yi, mi bonita.” Manny rubbed his hands together, his eyes glued on her hips. “You’re wearing your tool belt. I love a woman who knows how to handle a tool.”

  Claire smirked. Him and Mac both.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Carrera.” Gramps shot Manny a one-eyed glare. “And stop looking at my granddaughter like that.”

  “Howdy, boys.” Ruby handed Claire a wet pink washrag. “Supper’s ready for y’all.”

  Deborah sniffed and wrinkled her upper lip as if Ruby had cooked Lutefisk. She grabbed her Coach designer purse from the bar and started toward the back door.

  “Where are you going?” Gramps asked.

  “I have some reading to do.”

  “You can do that after you eat the food Ruby cooked for you.” Gramps poured on the guilt, like a true parent.

  “Let the games begin.” Chester unfolded the card table.

  Claire wiped her cheek and looked down at the rag. A brown smudge stained the pink terry cloth. A spit bath with a dainty washcloth wasn’t going to cut it. When she was finished, she was going to have to scour the tub clean.

  While Deborah and Gramps argued about eating at the kitchen table instead of the card table, Claire slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. The shower beckoned.

  A bubble of laughter popped in her throat when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked like she’d been dragged behind a horse across the desert floor.

  She pulled her shirt over her head and unbuttoned her jeans. As soon as she’d scrubbed her skin clean and grabbed some supper, she planned on sneaking up to Mac’s room and daydreaming about the things she would do to him later tonight.

  The lock on the bedroom door would keep her mother out. There was no way she wanted to spend another evening listening to Deborah’s lectures on etiquette and morality, not with the Mac-filled fantasies Claire had been stirring up all day.

  She paused in the midst of taking her socks off, chewed her bottom lip, and fretted for a moment about Mac being alone up in the Lucky Monk. Cave-ins were always a possibility, as well as crazy bitches with guns, which they’d both learned from experience.