Line Dancing Can Be Murder (7 page)

My eyebrow cocked. “You just want to meet those men.”

“Sure I do. Don’t you? They look interesting.”

Although I’ve never been into bikers, a memory flashed in my mind of riding on the back of some guy’s motorcycle when I was eighteen or nineteen. We’d made out by the pond on the edge of town under the moonlight of a summer Saturday night. I have no idea what his name was. Never saw him again.

“Want us to take your picture in front of this sign?” one of the bikers asked, walking toward us. He was a bear of a man with a straggly red beard, a black leather cap on his head, and chains hanging from around his ample waist. Sweat glistened his ruddy face.

“Thanks!” Crystal chirped, handing him her camera. I handed mine to his buddy and they snapped our picture together.

“Where are you ladies from?” the bear asked, returning the camera.

Crystal offered him a bright smile. “Illinois. We’re here with a tour group. We started in Vegas, are visiting several national parks, and ending up in Mount Rushmore. What about you?”

He nodded to his friends who looked equally hot (as in sweating like hogs, not attractive). “The ten of us are traveling two thousand miles through Arizona and Utah sightseeing.”

“Sounds interesting. Where have you been so far?”

Before he could answer, I yanked on her arm. “Have a good time,” I told Bear.

She hollered “goodbye” over her shoulder and then frowned at my rudeness. “What’d you do that for?”

“Because Mr. Bad Ass Bear isn’t your Prince Charming. There’s no sense in wasting time chatting him up.” I suspected Crystal was hoping to accidentally bump into her soul mate on this trip. Or maybe she was more desperate than I thought for any kind of attention. But bikers who didn’t have the sense to wear something other than black leather in June in Utah didn’t deserve more than a passing glance, in my opinion.

She walked away with a “Hmmph.”

After we’d taken pictures of Sunset Point and Thor’s Hammer and more hoodoos than you could imagine, we were back on the bus tooling down the highway toward Salt Lake City. Keith stood up and announced it was time to officially introduce ourselves. Then we’d watch a video about the Grand Tetons, which we’d be seeing in a couple of days. My friends and I had occupied the first two rows of seats behind Keith since the start of the trip, and there we sat again, so it was natural for him to begin the introduction game with us.

He pointed to Jackie. “Let’s start with you. Please stand up here in front so everyone can see you and tell us your name, where you’re from, your occupation, your hobbies, your favorite places you’ve traveled to, and your brush with fame.”

Jackie’s hesitation and icy stare sent a clear signal that she and Keith were no longer as friendly as they’d been last night. “Come on,” he urged, reaching out to touch her arm. She jerked it away.

When she finally slipped out of the seat, she stood as far away from him as she could and refused to take the microphone from his hand. “My name is Jackie,” she began, speaking loudly so the people in the back could hear. “I’m from Illinois, and I don’t have an occupation because I’m married to a rich man.” That got a few chuckles. “My hobby is shopping (more chuckles), my favorite place I’ve traveled to is Italy, and my brush with fame was shaking hands with Anson Williams of the TV show, Happy Days, when I was fifteen years old. He was performing at King’s Island near Cincinnati at the time. That’s it. Thank you.”

She moved past Keith without looking at him and crawled over the top of her seat mate, Donna. Then she stared out the window with her arms crossed over her chest. Jackie never was able to hide her feelings. I didn’t know what had happened between her and Keith, but her little scene didn’t seem to faze him one bit. Ever the professional, he pleasantly said, “You’re next” to Donna.

“Hi, everyone,” she spoke into his microphone. “I’m Donna, and I’m also from Illinois. My occupation is office secretary at our local high school, the same school I attended. This is the first trip I’ve taken since going to Wisconsin on my honeymoon almost thirty years ago, so all the places we’re seeing on this vacation are my favorite places to travel to, I guess. You see, I was widowed a year and a half ago, and my husband never liked to travel. I shouldn’t have spent the money on this trip because I don’t have any extra to squander, but I couldn’t let down my friends. And I really wanted to visit the west. Now I’m going to need to win the lottery or discover gold in Yellowstone in order to pay my bills when I get home.”

Uh-oh. Donna was rambling and sharing way more than this game required. “What was your brush with fame?” I hollered, attempting to steer her back on track.

She blushed and said, “I have an autographed photo of Jim Nabors from when he played Gomer Pyle on television. Does that count?”

Again, more laughs.

By the time everyone on the bus had played the introduction game, I was sleepy and barely stayed awake to watch the first half of the video on the Tetons. After a stop for lunch and another word and number game, we finally reached Salt Lake City.

We were given a tour of Mormon Temple Square and the lovely grounds that bloomed with pristine landscaping and bright flowers. Then we saw the Assembly Hall and the Tabernacle, where the world-famous choir performed, only not that day. Our two missionary guides were young women from Brazil and Germany.

“Those girls sure are passionate about their faith,” Annette whispered to me as we walked around the visitor center sipping lemonade. “I wish I had something to be that passionate about.”

I nodded, not really paying attention. My gaze was latched onto Donna, who was across the room talking to Keith. She listened intently to whatever he was saying. I wondered how long their conversation had lasted, because I sensed they were at the end of it. All of a sudden, she smiled and her head bobbed enthusiastically, and they shook hands. Before she stepped away, Keith placed his palm on Donna’s shoulder. He said something else and she nodded again. Whatever he’d said, it seemed to make Donna very happy. Darn! I wished I could read lips.

“What is it about a good looking man that will turn a woman into jelly?” I grumbled aloud.

“Huh?” Annette stared at me quizzically.

I tossed my hand into the air. “Oh, never mind.”

~ * ~

On the way to the Sheraton where we were to spend the night, Wayne drove us past the Beehive House and Lion House. Those homes had been where all of Brigham Young’s wives lived back in the day.

“I can’t manage to snag one wife,” Keith joked. “Doesn’t seem fair Brigham Young had so many.” His joke caused several women to sigh, but I wasn’t one of them. My suspicions were beginning to mount.

Life on the road probably made maintaining a relationship difficult for someone like Keith, but I doubted he lacked for female companionship. My curiosity piqued, and I wondered what had happened between him and Jackie to make her completely ignore him today. I was also interested in what he’d been talking to Donna about earlier.

After settling into our rooms and eating a mediocre dinner in the hotel restaurant, some of our new friends decided to head downtown for the evening, including Jackie, Crystal, Annette and Kim.

“I’m tired,” I said, begging off. “Think I’ll hang out in the Jacuzzi for a while and then watch a little TV and hit the sack.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Donna offered.

One of the married men from our group was in the Jacuzzi when we arrived at the indoor pool area. “Just soaking my sore legs,” he said, inviting us to join him. “I’m not used to so much walking.”

Neither was I. The half an hour soak nicely loosened my aching joints. In that time, we heard about our companion’s stint in the Korean War, as well as how he and his wife had met, the names of their kids and grandkids, and all the prescriptions he had to take for one ailment or another.

Once we were back in our room, Donna and I took turns showering and changed into our jammies. “Come here,” she called, opening the sliding glass doors. We stood outside on our sixth floor balcony and watched a lightning storm electrify the distant mountains.

“Isn’t that beautiful?” she cried.

“Magical. Are you glad you’re here, Donna?”

“Oh, yes. We’ve had such fun already. I can’t believe we have six days left. This was a good idea you had, Teresa.” She hugged me, and I hadn’t seen such a big smile on her face since Chad died.

“I saw you talking to Keith in the visitor center today,” I ventured. “It looked like you were having a deep discussion.”

Donna stared straight ahead with her hands on the balcony rail watching jagged streaks rhythmically light up the dark sky. “He’s a kind man. What I said in my introduction on the bus touched him. He gave me some suggestions on how I can make some extra money to supplement my income.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “What kind of suggestions? Do you mean investments of some kind?”

“He just shared some ideas for someone like me who has trouble making ends meet. That’s all.”

I turned her toward me. “You don’t know Keith,” I reminded her. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me a little credit, Teresa. I was Valedictorian of our senior class, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. People change.”

She punched my arm light-heartedly. “Thanks, girlfriend!” She gasped when more lightning ricocheted across the mountains. Then she faced me again. “Don’t worry, Teresa. I’m not stupid.”

For some reason, I suddenly recalled the lyrics to that George Strait song, famous last words of a fool.

CHAPTER TEN

Be Careful What You Wish For

No one knows the real reason as to why I called off my first engagement. At the time, I’d cryptically told friends and family that I realized I didn’t love Curt the way a woman should love a man. They were all heartbroken because everyone adored Curt. He was a good guy, and people told us we made the perfect pair. Everyone, that is, except my father, who I’ve already mentioned felt I was too stubborn and independent to commit to one man for a lifetime.

The truth was, Curt forgot my birthday. That’s the reason I broke up with him. That year we were engaged, he completely forgot my birthday. No flowers, no present, not a card or even a greeting. To him, it was just another day.

It wasn’t until I told him that my parents were taking us out for dinner to celebrate when it hit him. Of course, he profusely apologized and bent over backwards the
next
day to make me feel special. He showered me with the requisite presents: flowers, a box of candy that threatened to widen my hips, and a romantic card. But it was too late. As I lay in bed that night, I decided any man who couldn’t remember his fiancée’s birthday wouldn’t remember his wife’s, and that man didn’t deserve me. I was confident in knowing my own needs and wants. I understood that Curt’s tendency to space out on things I considered important would be a thorn in my side, and thorns hurt.

I never regretted my decision. A couple of years later, I heard Curt married a girl he met at a disco and they ended up moving down south somewhere, happy as two bugs in a rug.

Today was Sunday and Annette’s birthday; the reason I’d recalled my birthday fiasco all those years ago. As far as I knew, Bruce hadn’t called Annette since we’d left Illinois. Nor had her son, Dustin. I hoped the two of them would come through for her today of all days. But a sour feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

Donna and I woke up Jackie and Kim, and the four of us stood in the hotel hallway in bare feet and jammies pounding on Annette and Crystal’s door until it opened. “Happy birthday!” we shouted when Annette opened it. Smiling, her hair was styled perfectly, as if she’d been up for hours straight-ironing it. Crystal’s short hair, on the other hand, was the epitome of bed head. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and yawned as we sang the happy birthday song to Annette. Then we all handed her our individual gifts, wrapped in pretty papers and ribbons.

“Thanks, girls. You’re all so sweet.”

“Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” Kim said, stealing Annette’s line.

“You may be fifty, but you don’t look a day over forty-nine,” Jackie joked, pinching a similar quote Chuck had used recently.

After a round of hugs, we retreated to our rooms to dress and prepare for the day ahead.

“How’d everyone sleep?” Keith asked when we were on the bus and passing by the Great Salt Lake, which looked like a mirage on the desert. He stood in front, as usual, looking surfer dude handsome while talking into his microphone.

“Great!” was the unified response.

For the first time in months, my body didn’t ache. Maybe it was because we’d spent the night in the spiritually energized Salt Lake City. Or perhaps it had been the mattress in the hotel, which had felt like sleeping on a cloud.

“Today we’re headed to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, by way of the Oregon Trail,” Keith said. “We’ll be spending the night in Jackson, and tomorrow, we’ll visit the Grand Tetons before moving on to Yellowstone.” His intense gaze zeroed in on Annette, pinning her to the back of her seat. “Today is a very special day,” he announced. He offered Annette his hand. She accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet and flung his arm around her waist. Her face turned five shades of pink. “Today is Annette’s birthday!” Keith exclaimed. “Happy birthday, Annette.”

“Happy birthday!” everyone on the bus mimicked.

Keith squeezed Annette’s waist a little tighter. “Wayne and I did some shopping last night, and today we’ll be stopping at a park in Idaho Falls for a picnic lunch. We even managed to pick up a birthday cake. How about that, everyone?”

The people on the bus clapped, and Annette seemed overwhelmed. “Thank you, Keith and Wayne. You’re both so nice to have gone to the trouble.”

“We normally don’t need a reason to party on this tour,” Wayne said, glancing over his shoulder and winking, “but a birthday gives us a legitimate excuse.”

Annette returned to her seat smiling from ear to ear.

“Have you heard from Bruce and Dustin?” I asked from the seat behind her. Suddenly, her smile vanished, and I knew the answer. “Cell phone service is not good while on the road. The day’s still young,” I said, patting her shoulder.