Rv There Yet?

Chapter One ; Remind me again. I left a shop full of chocolates behind, why? ; ; Okay, that's lame. I mean, as a chocolatier I'm surrounded by chocolates every day. Truffles, caramel pecan patties, cherry cordials, chocolate-covered pretzels, mints. A myriad of textures and tastes. One would think I'd be sick of the rich, decadent scent that greets me every morning and causes me to drool like an old lady after a George Clooney sighting. Truth be told, I could use a break. Besides, friends mean more than chocolate. ; And why is that again? ; When I see Lydia Brady running out of her house dressed in jean shorts and a plain pink pullover, the breeze blowing her wavy, shoulder-length hair away from her green eyes and flour-speckled face, I remember. ; Chocolate comforts me for a moment, but friends encourage me for a lifetime. Close friends. Friends like Lydia Brady and Millie Carter. ; We've stayed in touch since our camp days over thirty-some years ago. It's true that at one point we dwindled down to a Christmas card, but we reconnected at the camp reunion six years ago and have stayed in touch through phone calls and e-mail ever since. ; Since Lydia's husband, Greg, died last November, our bond has been even tighter. We're determined to see one another through the worst and the best of life. In the last six years, our friendship has seen us through divorce, job changes, kids, and now death. Nothing can separate us. ; Well, except maybe this RV thing. ; After paying the cabdriver, I push open the taxi door, causing it to squawk in protest. Lydia rushes to my side and hugs me fiercely. ; "Oh, sorry," she says with a laugh, "I got flour on your pretty silk blouse." ; "No problem," I say, brushing it off. ; "Silver looks great on you, DeDe, makes your dark eyes stand out. Looks nice with those black pants too." Lydia looks down at her own top, then touches her hair. "I should have dressed better to meet you girls." ; "You look wonderful," I say, giving her one more hug. ; She brightens. ; In spite of all she's been through, Lydia does look good. She's put on a little weight since the last time we were together, but then, haven't we all? It surprises me to see that she's let her hair go gray, but she still looks pretty. Older, but pretty. ; 'Course, who am I to talk? I have a few more wrinkles-er, uh, laugh lines-than I did in November. But, hey, I laugh a lot. ; My luggage rollers squeak as I pull them over a sidewalk bumpy with age and littered with stubborn weeds that have pushed through the cracks. ; "Millie should be here shortly," Lydia says, her words coming out in short bursts of air. "I can hardly believe it's been a month already since we talked about this, and here we are." ; "Speaking of which, are we sure we want to do this? Could I entice you with a little gourmet chocolate, perhaps, to give up the idea?" Our gazes collide. "I'm teasing here, but then again, maybe not. You, me, Millie, packed in an RV. For endless days?" ; Picture sardines in a can. Speaking of which, I've never appreciated sardines. Yet here I am feeling sorry for them. All crammed together in those little metal cans. ; "You don't mind, do you, DeDe? I mean, you want to do this, right?" We step inside Lydia's home, and I set the luggage aside. The wrinkles between her eyebrows deepen at the question. ; My heart constricts. Lydia, ever the peacemaker. "Of course I want to do this. Would I miss the chance to get together wHunt, Diann is the author of 'Rv There Yet? ' with ISBN 9781595541420 and ISBN 159554142X.