thing. There’s a queen bed in back, a double in the fold-out couch, another double on top of the cab and a recliner. The captain’s chairs up front are pretty comfortable, too. And then there’s the floor.” She tapped her foot against it. “Carpeted at least.”
Nancy went on to say that if they left the RV, they’d be disqualified. Stepping outside the vehicle for any reason was considered quitting. The competition would go on as long as there was more than one person inside. “Last to go takes the RV home,” she said, sweeping her hand around the room like Vanna White. “That’s it. Any questions?”
“How many hours do you think this will take?” Adele asked.
Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. In the contest at Mall of America, there were two guys who lasted three months.”
A gasp went up from the crowd. Adele glanced at her watch. “I have to be at work by noon or use up a vacation day.”
Nancy gave her an indulgent smile, as if Adele were slow-witted. “I think you’ll be here past noon.”
Adele glanced around the crowded room, then sat on one of the kitchenette chairs. “I’ll have to call my boss.”
“There’s no phone in the RV. If you have a cell phone, you can use that. Otherwise, the only contact with the outside world will be through me.” She smiled graciously at them all. “I’d be glad to let your family know how you’re doing, or they could come by and visit while they shop, and talk to you through the window. Be sure to tell them that Joe’s Camping Store is having a big sale this week on camping gear, to go along with our promotion.” When no one else asked a question, Nancy gave them a little wave, wished them luck and got off the RV.
Claire saw clear relief in Nancy’s face when she took in a deep breath of canned mall air. When the door shut, Claire felt a twinge of panic. Nineteen other people. One RV. For days on end. What had she just gotten herself into? And what if it didn’t work out?
Mark’s gaze caught hers. “You okay?”
She drew herself up and took a breath. “Of course.”
“Of course,” he repeated with a smile that said he knew she was lying.
“I think everyone should stow their luggage in the bedroom,” Millie, the knitting grandma, said. “Lester, take our things back there.”
“Who made you boss?” said Roger, who’d just gotten married on Friday. He was only twenty-one, too young to be married, Claire thought. She’d cut his hair last week. Flat top, shaved sides, à la the marines. She couldn’t believe he’d talked his new wife, Jessica, into spending their honeymoon on the RV. She supposed it was better than spending the weekend at Jessica’s mom’s house, probably the only other option they could afford. Not exactly an auspicious beginning for married life, but Claire understood being blind to everything but love. Blind to a lack of money, blind to a lack of a job. Blind as a stupid bat, flying face-first into a wall of denial.
Millie pursed her lips. “Do you have a better idea, son?”
“Well, no.” Roger looked flustered by her challenge. “I think we should decide things by committee, though.”
Millie let out a sigh. “There is very little room in here, in case you didn’t notice. If we stow our bags in the bedroom, we have a private place to change our clothes.”
“Okay,” Roger said. For the next few minutes, there was nothing but the sounds of grunts and “excuse me’s” as each of them made their way to the bedroom and deposited their luggage.
“Well,” Millie said when they were done. “Anyone up for a game of canasta?”
The silence that greeted her made it clear how the crowd felt about card games. Somebody started a pot of coffee in the tiny kitchen. One of the men—Danny, the one who didn’t seem to have a job, Claire remembered—flopped into the driver’s seat, grabbed the satellite remote and turned on the TV. Typical.
“Awesome! I can watch every game in the country.” Danny immediately put the remote to use. A half second on each station until he knew exactly where ESPN and Fox Sports were located. Then he settled back in the chair and propped his feet on the dash to watch football.
“Glad you got on the bus to nowhere now?” Mark asked, coming up beside her in the corner she’d ducked into to stay out of the crush of people.
Lord, he was awfully close. Claire stiffened, trying to take up less space. “Of course.”
“Seems like it will be close quarters for a while. Think you can stand that?”
“Can you?”
“Oh yeah.” He leaned toward her. She could feel his breath tickling along her collarbone. “I like being close.”
She pulled herself away, as far as she could, which was about three inches. It was nowhere near enough distance. “Seems you’re not the only one.” She gestured toward Roger and Jessica.
The newlyweds had commandeered the sofa and stretched out along the length of it. They were half en-twined with each other and had already started on the honeymoon. Loud, sloppy sounds of kissing came from their corner.
“That’s not making love,” Mark said with disdain. “That’s wrestling.”
Laughter burst from Claire. The moment of détente felt good, the laughter a much-needed break in the tension she’d been feeling ever since she threw out her old life, sure the new one was just a matter of waiting out the rest of the competitors. But now she didn’t feel so confident about her decision.
Millie hurried over to the couch and rapped the surface with her knitting needle. Roger and Jessica broke apart and sat up. “There’ll be none of that,” Millie said, wagging her finger at them. “It’s disgusting.”
“Come on, grandma. We just got married yesterday.” Roger held up Jessica’s left hand as proof.
“Then get a room at the Motel 6. This is not the place for…for that.”
“We’re taking this RV on our honeymoon,” Roger said.
“When you win it, that’s when your honeymoon begins. Until then, I think you should sleep up front and your girl should sleep in the back, on the floor. Lester and I will have the bed and we can keep an eye on her.”
“Hey,” piped up Danny. “Who says you get the big bed?”
“Lester and I are the oldest,” she said, as if that settled it.
“No you aren’t, Millie,” called one of the other elderly people. “My Gracie here has six months on you.” That started another spirited disagreement about birth dates, which led into a game of one-upmanship about whose hip was worse and who deserved the bed more, based on their medical files.
Mark squeezed into the center of the room. “I have a fair way of deciding who gets the beds,” he shouted over the din.
Claire glanced up in surprise. Since when did Mark get involved in anything besides his own life? He’d never been the kind of guy to step into the middle of a mess. In high school, he’d always been content to ride the popularity wave. Now he was helping her,
