Her gaze flicked between the RV and the woman, her muscles tensed, ready to spring should the number of contestants get stretched to twenty-one.
“I’d like to thank Deluxe Motor Homes for donating this magnificent RV. They’re celebrating their fiftieth anniversary in business here in Mercy by giving away one of their newest models. Let’s give a big thanks to Don Nash, the CEO of Deluxe.”
From the front of the vehicle came Don himself, a slight man in a tailored suit. Deluxe Motor Homes was one of the biggest employers in town and did a brisk business creating custom RVs for country singers and retirees. Mark supposed this contest promotion was a drop in their marketing budget bucket.
Led by Nancy’s wild bring-back-Tinkerbell-from-the-dead claps, the crowd applauded Don’s generous donation.
“Now.” Nancy clapped her hands together again. Mark wondered if her palms were starting to smart. “Let’s play who’s who among the competition before we board.” She pointed to the first person in line. “Why don’t you start?”
Mark craned his neck around Millie and Lester’s lawn chairs. A thin African-American woman wearing business clothes sat primly on one of the mall benches someone had dragged over by the RV. “I’m Adele Williams.”
“And…” Nancy prompted, waving her hand in a circular motion. “What do you do?”
“I’m a loan officer for Lawford First National.”
“Probably could have bought her own RV,” muttered Millie. She pulled out her knitting again. It seemed to be the thing she did when she was frustrated. Click, clack, click, clack.
Nancy went down the line and unearthed a few people Mark knew, a few he didn’t. There was John Madison, a guy he’d played football with. John was married and had two kids, a fact he gleefully shared, complete with photos. “They want to go to Disney World,” he said. “Two little kids, dreaming of Mickey.” He glanced around but no one expressed an iota of empathy.
There was Renee Angelo, a girl who’d been a class behind Mark. She told Nancy she wanted the RV so her grandmother could “retire in style.” Again, not an ounce of pathos from the group.
Then two makeup counter salesgirls, a security guard who looked about a hundred years old, three women who were stay-at-home moms and one guy who didn’t seem to have a job and couldn’t come up with a good reason for wanting the RV. “This girl asked me if I wanted to sign up,” he said with a shrug. “So I did.”
Then there was the bingo bunch, two couples about Millie and Lester’s age, who all talked of moving to Florida for the winter months. Millie apparently knew these folks and muttered about them under her breath as she click-clacked away. Number fifteen was a doctor. He checked his beeper twice while telling Nancy about his practice. Mark didn’t think he’d last long.
Claire was mute. She watched Nancy make her way down the line, eyeing them all like the second-ranked runner warily watching the first-ranked before the race’s start.
Sixteen and seventeen were a married couple on their honeymoon. They must be insane to want to spend their honeymoon in an RV with a bunch of strangers. They looked young and gullible, still at the age where they thought the world was going to hand them good things on a platter. A few short months ago, Mark had felt the same way. Funny how fast things could change.
Eighteen and nineteen were Millie and Lester. Twenty was Mark. When Nancy asked him what he did for work, he hesitated. “I’m… I was a salesman for a software development company but now I write training manuals.”
“How cool! Like for Microsoft?”
He snorted. “Not exactly.”
“And why do you want to win the RV, Mark?” Nancy flashed him a smile.
“I, ah…” What could he say? He was dead broke, he’d screwed up royally and he needed the RV to provide himself with both a reliable ride to California and a means to right the mistakes he’d made? Instead, he said the first thing that came to mind. “I want to go to Disneyland.”
“How sweet,” Nancy stepped over by Claire, then counted with her pointer finger. “I’m sorry, you’re twenty-one.”
“But I couldn’t pass for it,” Claire joked, using Mark’s one-liner as if trying to charm Nancy into letting her stay. “I’m Claire—”
“You’re twenty-one,” Nancy interrupted. “The rules say only twenty get on. Sorry.” She pointed to the board of rules. Then she walked back to the head of the line. “Okay, people.” She clapped twice. “Bags up! Let’s get aboard!”
Millie jabbed Lester again and stood while he folded their chairs and hoisted their bags. The others who’d missed being part of the lucky twenty wandered away.
Mark turned back to Claire. He’d never seen such a forlorn look in a woman’s eyes before. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
“Give me your place.” She gripped his arm. “Please, Mark. I’ve never asked a favor of you before, just give me this one thing and I’ll…” he saw her reach for the words, knowing from past history Claire wasn’t the type to ask anyone for anything, “owe you for the rest of my life.”
He hesitated. Any other day, if a pretty woman asked a favor of him, he’d oblige, charmingly offering a date in trade. They’d wine, dine, flirt, and before the end of the night, she’d be in his bed and he’d figure he’d been the winner.
But this wasn’t any other day. And these weren’t ordinary circumstances. For the first time in his life, Mark Dole was desperate. Desperate enough to ignore a beautiful woman’s smile and deny her the one thing she wanted. “I can’t, Claire. Sorry.”
Disbelief washed over her features. “You can’t tell me your trip to Disneyland is more important than my reasons.”
“And just why do you want to win that thing? It’s a bit big for your driveway, don’t you think?”
“I need to get to California.” She said it with such determination that he doubted she was lying.
“Buy a plane ticket.”
“A plane ticket doesn’t solve my problems. Besides, up until yesterday, I was a hairdresser at Flo’s Cut and Go. I’m rolling in blue hair dye and quarter tips, not dough.” Her gaze filled with entreaty again. “Please, Mark. I know you haven’t always liked me, but—”
“Who says I don’t like you?”
“All aboard!” Nancy cried. “Last call for the RV Train, bound for Florida or maybe Disneyland.”
Mark ignored the drill instructor. “Who says I don’t like you?” he repeated.
“Come on, Mark. We had the date from hell with Jenny and Nate. Don’t you remember? We fought over everything.”
He smiled. His memories included a spirited fight, yes, but also a spirited attraction. Why they’d never pursued that, he couldn’t recall. “I remember you were pretty warm that night.”
She let out a sigh. “That wasn’t me. It was the butter at the bottom of your popcorn bucket.” She shook her head. “That’s
