Well-Offed In Vermont Part 4

However, when Nick's friends, upon seeing their buddy wedged behind the tiny two-spoke steering wheel, dubbed him Magilla Gorilla, Nick declared to his wife that although he was still available to drive the Fortwo when needed, he fully intended on purchasing a manlier automobile just as soon as their finances would allow.

"Looks like we're here," he announced as he threw the transmission into park and immediately stretched out his arms.

The high beams of both the truck and car shone brightly upon a single-story house with a front porch. Clad with unfinished wooden planking, the weathered gray exterior of the structure was punctuated in the front by a solid door and two mismatched windows. In the rear of the building stood a small shed, and in the front yard area sat three Adirondack chairs and a wooden table with two metal spikes that stuck up from either end.

"This is camp?" Stella questioned. "I expected to see tents."

"Seriously?" Nick looked at her and shook his head.

"Why not? When my friends used to go camping, they brought tents and sleeping bags."

"This is a hunting camp, not a Boy Scout jamboree. The guys who use this place aren't making s'mores."

"Whatever," Stella shrugged. "It's a pleasant surprise, at least. An actual house instead of a big tent. And look, there's even a picnic table. Now that it's stopped raining, we might be able to drink our coffee out there in the morning. We'd have to be careful where we put our cups, but still ..."

"Those spikes are there because that's not a picnic table, it's a skinning table."

"A skinning table? What's-" Stella was about to ask what a skinning table was when its purpose suddenly became clear. "Oh! That would explain why there are no benches with it, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, it kinda would." Nick exited the driver's-side door and, flashlight in hand, helped Stella out of the pa.s.senger side before leading the way to the front door, where Alma stood waiting.

"Here we are," she declared as she opened the front door. "Hunter's paradise!"

"I can't see anything," Stella stated. "Where's the light switch?"

By the dim light of her flashlight, Alma managed to find her way inside. "This is our light switch," she stated as she ignited a red cigarette lighter. Placing her flashlight on a nearby surface, she held the lighter beneath a dangling white object and reached into the darkness with the other.

Within moments, the white object glowed with a light similar to that of a standard 60-watt bulb.

Nick recognized the source immediately. "Gas lamps, huh?"

"Of course. Can't get electricity out here."

As Alma lit the rest of the gas lamps, the remainder of the room became visible. Approximately eleven feet wide and seventeen feet deep, the cabin was rustic in every sense of the word. Sheets of particle board bearing traces of dirt, blood, and other unidentifiable substances served as flooring, while the ceilings-if they could be called that-consisted only of bare rafters naked of both plasterboard and insulation.

A corner of the back wall had been fitted with one white hanging cupboard, one knotty pine base cabinet with sink, a two-burner stove, and a large metal cooler to serve as a makeshift cooking area. Meanwhile, the front portion of the s.p.a.ce was furnished as a living room, replete with a duct-tape-plastered avocado green recliner, a collapsible snack tray that subbed for an end table, and a threadbare sofa upholstered in a bicentennial-era "Spirit of '76"-themed fabric.

Stella felt as though she had stepped into the bas.e.m.e.nt on That '70s Show, but she remained positive and gracious. Given the current lodging situation, she was glad to have a roof-even if it were uninsulated-over her head. "Quite cozy. Where's the bedroom?"

"You're standing in it," Alma replied with a nod at the sofa. "That there's a pull-out bed. Don't know if there's sheets on it, but I have some blankets in my truck."

"We brought our blankets too," Nick quickly interjected, "so we should be fine. Right, honey?"

"Absolutely. All I really want right now is to eat those sandwiches you fixed, have a hot shower-"

"Oh, there's no shower," Alma corrected. "The only water out here is from a gravity-fed spring. Ice cold and hard enough to turn your blond hair bright green. If you want to get cleaned up, stop by my shop in the morning. I'll give you the key to my doublewide."

"Your what?"

"My doublewide trailer. Raymond and I are both out of the house by six, so there'll be no fighting for the bathroom," she explained with a smile.

"A shower would be terrific. Thank you, Alma."

"Yeah, thanks for your help," Nick added. "I don't know where we would have gone if you hadn't stepped in."

"Ain't nothing," Alma dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Now if you'd just grab your suitcases outta my truck, I'll get going and let you folks rest up."

Stella and Nick followed Alma to her truck, retrieved their suitcases, and after a few words of parting, went back inside the camp.

"Well, this isn't quite where I expected to end our day," Stella sighed.

Nick set the flashlight on the snack table and instantly burst into laughter.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think you'd wind up sleeping in a hunting camp."

"Believe me, I had no intention of proving you wrong. But you know what? I can make do for one night. Sometimes it's good to step outside your comfort zone."

"Uh-huh. And after the one night?"

"I'm a smart woman. I'll figure out all this wilderness stuff."

"I'm sure you will." He laughed even harder. "Even though you thought we'd be sleeping in a tent and singing campfire songs."

"I did not! Well, okay, maybe I did expect a tent, but not a Girl Scout sort of thing. I imagined something closer to what you'd see at an archeological dig or a nature photo shoot, not," she began to chuckle, "my grandma's rec room in cabin form. Seriously, everything in here dates to the Ford administration."

"Hey, don't knock it," Nick said and flopped onto the couch, his hands behind his head. "My parents had a sofa like this when I was growing up. Used to bring girls back to the house to watch TV and, you know ..."

"Yeah, I know." Stella rolled her eyes.

"I tell you, between my brother and me, that sofa saw a lot of action."

"I'm sure it did. Maybe not as much action as you told people"-Nick glared at her-"but I'm sure it had its fair share. Just don't expect to re-create any of those make-out sessions tonight-at least not until you throw a few blankets over that thing."

"Don't worry, you're safe. Nothing puts a damper on the mood like discovering a corpse."

"Ugh. Don't remind me." She shivered and picked up the flashlight from the snack table.

"Where are you going?"

"The outhouse. I haven't gone since the closing."

"Want me to go with you?"

"No, I can manage on my own."

"Are you sure? It's pretty dark out there."

"I have the flashlight, and, aside from the outhouse, I know where everything is." She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt tightly over her head and set off through the front door.

It didn't take long, however, before the sounds of the wind, rustling leaves, snapping twigs, and unseen woodland creatures left Stella wishing she had taken Nick up on his offer. She paused and deliberated turning back, but the knowledge that her sudden reappearance would be met with Nick's mocking laughter urged her forward.

Sticking close to the perimeter of the house, Stella followed the length of the side exterior wall until she was a few yards away from the outhouse. Her flashlight trained upon the door of the structure, she stepped carefully through the tall gra.s.s until she reached her destination. With tentative fingers, she turned the rusty latch.

What awaited Stella inside the outhouse was, to her urban sensibility, more horrifying than anything she might have encountered during the walk from the cabin. With no lights, no sink, and no modern fixtures, the single-room building consisted only of a small ventilation window located near the roofline and, along the far wall, an enclosed wooden bench into which had been cut a large round hole. Beside the hole sat a roll of toilet paper.

Stella scanned the bench area with her flashlight in hopes of discovering a handle, chain, or some other device by which to flush the wooden toilet. Upon finding none, she sighed heavily. Well, when in Rome, she thought to herself.

Putting her flashlight down on the bench, she began to undo the top b.u.t.ton of her jeans only to look up and see a large white eyeball with a dark brown center staring through the window.

Stella reared backward and b.u.mped into the bench, causing both flashlight and toilet paper to topple into the dark abyss of the latrine. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she lunged for the door, her fingers fumbling frantically for the latch. Before she could locate it, the door suddenly swung inward, hitting Stella in the face and sending her careening to the floor.

Now silent, Stella looked up to find Nick standing in the doorway, holding a kerosene camping lantern. "Oh, Nick," she exclaimed as she sprung to her feet. "It was a peeping Tom! He was looking in the window."

"A peeping Tom in the middle of thirty acres of forest?"

"But it was!"

"He must have been about seven feet tall to be able to look in that window."

"I-I-I don't know, but I saw him! He looked right at me."

"Yeah, I saw him too. It was a buck."

"Who? What? His name is Buck?"

Nick laughed. "No, a buck as in a male deer. I came out to make sure you were okay, and I spotted him looking into the outhouse."

"Whew," she cried in relief. "Well, the good news is, I don't need to go to the bathroom anymore. The bad news? I need to put on another pair of underwear."

Nick grinned and shook his head in disbelief. "Go grab your flashlight, and we'll go back inside."

Stella nodded in agreement and turned around to grab the flashlight off the bench. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

She pointed to the hole in the bench, which was now glowing eerily from inside.

"How did you-? Aw, never mind. Good thing I brought this along." He held the lantern aloft.

"You're my hero."

"Yeah? You won't say that when I send you to fish that flashlight out tomorrow," he teased.

"Fish it out? I was thinking of adding lights to all our toilets. That way you'd know where to aim in the middle of the night."

"Keep it up and you won't be using a net."

Playfully bickering all the way, the couple picked their way through the pitch-black darkness of the Vermont forest and settled into the cabin for sandwiches and sleep.

CHAPTER.

5.

AFTER FIGHTING A seven-hour battle with the lumpy, blanket-covered sofa bed mattress, Stella and Nick admitted defeat and yielded to the coming daylight. Bleary-eyed, they gargled with a generous amount of mouthwash, performed some rudimentary hairstyling, and, armed with a bag filled with shampoo, conditioner, and fresh clothes, drove their tiny yellow car through the fog and rain to Alma's Sweet Shop.

Located in a corner brick building on Main Street, the Sweet Shop was proof that even restaurant style was cyclical in nature. Boasting original pink Formica countertops and tables in a boom-

erang pattern and upholstered swivel stools and benches of red vinyl, the Sweet Shop interior attracted both older patrons looking to stroll down memory lane and younger customers who were intrigued by its retro appeal. Meanwhile, white Swiss dot curtains, hand-lettered signs, and quilted placemats-all Alma's handiwork-promised diners of all ages an eating experience as pleasant, unique, and friendly as the proprietor herself.

Nick opened the heavy gla.s.s door to the sound of sleigh bells and ushered Stella inside. With the exclusion of Sheriff Mills and Alma, the eatery was empty.

"Hey, you two," Mills greeted.

Alma, sporting jeans, a sweater, and a ruffled floral-print ap.r.o.n in colors that matched the shop's decor, emerged from behind the counter and welcomed the couple with open arms. "Good morning, my dears. How'd you sleep?"

"Oh ... great," Nick replied with a yawn.

"Never slept better," Stella joined in and took the counter seat beside Sheriff Mills.

Alma returned to her post. "Liars. That sofa bed has more loose coils than a Slinky factory."

Nick hopped onto the stool beside his wife. "It's not that bad."

"Yes, it is. I love that camp for two things: the scenery and the quiet. As for everything else? Disgusting at best. Strictly man town." Alma poured two mugs of steaming hot coffee and shoved them toward Stella and Nick. "Unfortunately, I couldn't think of any place that isn't full for the weekend."

"Don't worry about it-it was still better than sleeping in the car." Stella stirred milk into her coffee. "I was just surprised by the amount of traffic here in town last night. If I hadn't seen it, I would never have believed a town could get so many tourists on a Thursday."

"At this time of year, Thursday's the start of the weekend."

"Last night weren't nothing," Mills jumped in. "By this afternoon, you'll think twice before setting foot into town."