A Rip Roaring Good Time (5 page)

Listening to Rip snoring contentedly as he relaxed in a deep sleep next to me made me want to kick him in the shin, or pull the pillow out from under his head. Misery loved company and I wanted that company to be as wide-awake as I was. I squashed my temptation and didn't disturb him, however. He had driven the entire way from Cheyenne while I worked on a wooden figurine I was carving into the shape of a goat. I had wanted to finish it in time to give it to Wendy as a birthday gift.

Wendy had showed me a photo of an ornery goat that lived on her boyfriend, Andy's, farm. She'd told me some humorous anecdotes about the temperamental critter she referred to as Precious. It had given me the idea to carve a replica of the animal to give her for her birthday instead of wasting money on something she already had or didn't want. As a young girl, I had learned to whittle and carve wood from my pappy, who could while away an entire afternoon turning a small log into a toothpick. It beat the hell out of working, he used to tell me.

With four older brothers, I leaned toward being a tomboy, so they'd let me go with them when they went to town to look for small jobs, or to talk strangers into giving them enough change to buy chewing tobacco. I tried some of the Beechnut they'd talked an old farmer out of one day. Not only did it taste like Wintergreen gum dipped in cow manure to me, it also had me puking my guts up for the rest of the day. After that, I didn't try quite as hard to be like one of the boys.

I was pappy's only daughter and he called me his little princess, even though instead of fancy dresses, I usually wore stained hand-me-down britches and tattered shirts my brothers had outgrown. But I stuck to pappy like a stamp and learned a lot of time-wasting skills from him.

Reminiscing about my childhood helped me to finally doze off around three and sleep fitfully until six. While I was clearing the cobwebs out of my mind, I decided I'd pull out something more appropriate to wear to the party that evening, but for now, I'd just slip on some old holey jeans and an aquamarine shirt with a sunflower on it. The jeans had come back into style. Even though the holes in my jeans were from wear and tear, I'd seen a pair just like them on a rack at Penney's for sixty-five bucks. The shirt, which I'd found at a garage sale for a quarter, had inspired me to paint our travel trailer in a similar design.

I think the old mechanic at Boney's garage had been impressed with our paint job too. I'd seen the younger fellow point at the trailer when we pulled into the station, and say something to him. Paul had responded with a huge smile and nodded in agreement. I knew when I'd talked Rip into painting it that it'd be a big hit. And to think, Rip had thought it would look ridiculous.

* * *

I reluctantly rolled out of bed to get ready for the day. Fifteen minutes later I had dressed, put my teeth back in after having let them soak in a glass jar on the bathroom counter all night, and pulled a comb through my naturally wavy salt and pepper hair. My hair looked just a touch saltier with each day that passed, and I'm not sure what it says about my character, but I really didn't give a rat's ass if it turned the color of a field mouse overnight—no pun intended.

I set Rip's hearing aids on the counter so he wouldn't forget to wear them while we were here. It wasn't a big deal whether or not he heard what I had to say, he'd told me, but he didn't want to miss out on the conversation with Stone and Lexie.
How rude
, I thought. I had half a notion to take the batteries out of his hearing aids and not tell him I'd done so.

Finished with my morning routine, I went down to the kitchen to have some coffee with Lexie. I needed to get rid of the fog enveloping my brain after such little sleep. As expected, she was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup in her hand.

Lexie looked a bit harried as she sorted through a conglomeration of lists and receipts on the table in front of her. She'd been muttering to herself when I'd entered the room.

"Good morning, sunshine," I greeted her. She was such a sweetheart, and the thought flitted through my mind that she looked young enough to be my daughter. But then I realized she could've been had I got knocked up at seventeen instead of eighteen. We hadn't seen our own daughter since we'd gone home to Texas for her fiftieth birthday in the late spring. But Regina had been so tied up in some real estate deals she was involved in, she'd hardly had time to visit with us. Reggie, as we've always called her, and her husband, Milo Moore, made a living "flipping houses" in town, whatever that means. Even though their livelihood sounded somewhat sketchy to me, they seemed to be doing well financially, so I kept my nose out of their business.

"Grab a cup of coffee, Rapella," Lexie suggested.

"Sure thing, but I'm limiting myself to two cups a day while I'm here. I didn't sleep so good last night. If I tried to keep up with your caffeine consumption, I'd be buzzing around here like the queen bee hepped up on fermented nectar. But if you can handle a boatload of it, more power to you. Speaking of which, would you like a refill while I'm pouring mine?"

"Yes, please. I need another boost of energy to get all these details taken care of today."

"Can I help in any way?" I asked. "I have nothing else to do."

"Actually," she replied with a grin, "I was hoping you'd volunteer."

"What are all these lists you got here?" I asked as I pulled out a chair and sat down. "I hate to use a cliché, but you need to get all these ducks in a row."

Before Lexie could respond, a knock at the door startled both of us. After Lexie hollered for the visitor to come in, a young gal about Wendy's age walked in, and danged if she didn't have a fistful of lists in her hand too.
Probably a darned good thing I am here to help,
I thought. I said, "Good Lord! You gals must have ducks running amok all over the place!"

They both looked at me like I'd just spoken to them in Mandarin Chinese. Lexie introduced us, and the blonde young gal replied, "Nice to meet you Mrs. Ripple. I'm Wendy's best friend, and I'm helping her mom with the surprise party."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mattie. Just call me Rapella, dear. Mrs. Ripple makes me sound old."

Lexie invited Mattie to sit down and asked, "Okay, dear, have you got a final count for me?"

Mattie nodded and replied, "As close as I'm apt to get, I think. I invited all of Wendy's friends who live in the area, of course. I knew the parlor here could handle a pretty big crowd. I factored in the people who definitely plan to come, the people who can't make it due to other obligations, and the people who will be here if at all possible. Then, assuming most guests will be bringing a spouse, boyfriend, or friend, along with them, I'm estimating between thirty-five and forty will be attending the party tonight."

"Okay. Thanks, honey!" Lexie said, looking at Mattie as she spoke. "That sounds perfect. I ordered enough cake to feed fifty and told the caterer to be prepared to feed dinner to that many as well. I also bought enough snacks, drinks, and refreshments to feed all of Rockdale. I knew the leftovers would not go to waste with the inn full of guests."

Lexie glanced at me with a smile and continued speaking to Mattie. "Every room in the inn is reserved for the weekend. Most of the guests are here to attend the party tonight. The Ripples will be visiting for a few days too. I'm sure the food will all get eaten one way or another."

"Cool," Mattie replied. "Did you think of anyone else I should invite that I overlooked?"

"No. I don't know whom all you invited, but I'm sure you know better than I who Wendy would want to come help her celebrate her thirtieth. I'm sure you covered all the bases. You did invite her boss, Nate, and her other co-workers at the county coroner's lab, didn't you?"

"Yes. Nate, his wife, and two other co-workers will be here for sure, and one plans to come if the seminar she's attending is over in time. Although it sounds grotesque to me, she was excited to go hear a renowned pathologist discuss new techniques in the art of dissecting cadavers."

"I'm glad Wendy had already heard that lecturer speak at an earlier event or we wouldn't have been able to pull her away from that seminar either. I don't know what these young people find so fascinating about carving a human body up like a Thanksgiving turkey to discover what caused their untimely demise. But I guess somebody has to do it."

"Better her than me, 'cause it grosses me out," Mattie said. She laughed and added—for my benefit, I was sure—"As a nurse in the neo-natal department at Wheatland Memorial Hospital in St. Joseph, our occupations are on opposite ends of the spectrum. I help them come into the world and Wendy tends to them after they depart. Sometimes I have to beg her not to go into detail about one of her latest cases. The one regarding the elderly woman who swallowed a cat food can lid was particularly gruesome."

"Yes, I remember her telling me about that one too," Lexie said with a dramatic shudder. "The old gal just lived a couple of blocks from here. No one knew she'd gotten to the point of having to eat cat food just to survive. They found her two Persians dead in the basement, one rotting and full of maggots, and the other one already reduced to a pile of bones."

"Egads! Those poor kitties didn't deserve to suffer such a terrible death. So what happened to the old broad after that?" I asked.

Mattie's head turned and she looked at me with an odd expression on her face, but I didn't have time to wonder why before Lexie answered my question. "The sharp-edged lid sliced Erma Digg's digestive tract up as if it were a razor blade, and she bled out on the way to the hospital. If we had only known Erma was in such dire straits, we'd have made sure she was taken care of and well fed."

Mattie nodded solemnly and said, "I'd have personally seen to it she had everything she needed to live comfortably no matter how much it cost."

Briefly, I wondered how a young nurse like Mattie could afford to be so generous. Then I shook my head and asked, "Didn't anybody think to check in on the old lady? Jeez Louise! Where I'm from, people watch out for their neighbors a little better than that, especially the ones up there in age. The whole town of Rockdale should be ashamed of themselves."

"I agree, Rapella. We all felt very bad afterward. I didn't know her well at all, but I should have popped in on her now and then anyway. I'd have kept her cupboards full had I taken the initiative to find out how she was faring. I guess hindsight's twenty/twenty, as they say. But back to the business at hand. I'll be inviting all the unrelated guests who'll be checking into the inn today to come to the party too, if they don't already have plans for the evening. I don't anticipate they'll all be joining us, but perhaps one or two might accept our invitation."

"What can I do to be of use to you ladies? Sitting here on my thumbs all day ain't gonna be much help to you." I was already tiring of just sitting around doing nothing. I needed something to do to keep busy. Rip was the same way, and bad hip and all, I could see him through the window limping around the perimeter of a large colorful garden in the center of the circular driveway. He was trimming the edge of the flowerbed with a weed-eater. I'd heard Stone tell Rip he could easily handle all the lawn work by himself, but my husband could be very persuasive—well, actually, he was just plain bull-headed at times.

I listened quietly as Lexie responded to my question. "I was hoping you could meet with the caterer this morning. Georgia Piney's not well educated, but she's really a sweet gal and a great cook. You'll like her."

"I'd be happy to meet with this Georgia."

"I need to pick up the sheet cake at Pete's Pantry. They made our wedding cake last year and it was delicious. I also need to swing by the bank to get some cash, and I have to grab a few items at the grocery store—fruit juice, chips, dip, and some other snacks. My best friend, Sheila Davidson, and her husband, Randy, are coming up from Fairway, Kansas. She's known Wendy since the day she was born, having been in the delivery room with us. Sheila makes a mean spiked punch that contains orange, pineapple, and mango juices, along with a hefty amount of grain alcohol. Her so called 'Citrus Surprise' packs a
punch
you will never see coming. Or at least not until you try to stand up and walk under your own power, that is."

"Thanks for the warning," I said. "I think Rip and I will stick to our tequila and Crown Royal, if you don't mind. Trust me, you don't want either one of us dancing on the table with a lampshade on our heads. Been there, done that, and believe me, it wasn't a pretty sight."

* * *

Rip had programmed the GPS in our truck to the address Lexie gave me, and the lady's voice took me to a small house on the other side of town. I only hoped I could figure out how to get back to the inn without having to mess with the over-priced electronic device. No telling where I'd end up if I tried to program the inn's address into it. A couple of wrong turns, and I'd be in Iowa before I knew it.

I wasn't totally convinced I'd pulled up to the right place when the gadget informed me I'd reached my destination. I'd expected to end up at some kind of business establishment with a "Catering" sign on the front door. Instead, the only sign on the front of this run-down place was a note on a piece of cardboard paper that read "
Bewear of Dog. No Solesiters - No Tresspassen,
" written sloppily with a green magic marker. I wasn't exactly a wordsmith, but it didn't take Noah Webster to recognize the fact that no word over three letters long was spelled correctly. I was sure now that I'd been directed to the wrong location even though Lexie had mentioned the caterer wasn't well educated.