by Fiona Grace
Piper tipped her head to the side. “Hey, is it just me, or does it look like your dad’s on a road trip?”
Ali took the phone back from her. “That’s what I thought, too. It looks like he’s been living on Route 66 and traveling to various towns along it over the years.”
“Route 66?” Piper said, excitedly. “Isn’t it the same route they take in that book?”
“The Grapes of Wrath,” Ali said with a nod.
“Never heard of it.”
Ali’s eyes snapped up from her cell phone. “You’ve never heard of The Grapes of Wrath? It’s one of the great American novels! Oh, wait, maybe you’re thinking of On the Road? I never read it but I think it’s set on Route 66 too.”
Piper clicked her fingers. “Sex on Sixty-Six! It’s erotica.”
“Of course…” Ali murmured.
“Only that took place over a few weeks, and your dad’s been on his road trip for, like, three years or something.”
“Sixteen years,” Ali corrected.
“SIXTEEN YEARS?” Piper’s eyes widened with shock. “Really? Who goes on a sixteen-year road trip?”
“Someone running from their problems,” Ali said, feeling a sudden bitterness swirling inside. This was the exact reason she didn’t want any other people involved yet. Piper’s comments made her reflect on her feelings through the eyes of an outsider. Taking to the road for sixteen years and leaving your family behind was a really crummy thing to do. The memory of her bohemian, dreamer father instantly dissolved.
“Look,” Piper said, pointing at the map on Ali’s cell screen. “There are RV parks all along the route. I bet if you went and asked around, someone would know your dad and where to find him.”
Ali hesitated. Piper’s enthusiasm for solving the Richard mystery felt at odds with her current feelings. But she had to admit the pull to stand face to face with him was there. Like a magnet.
“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s lots going on here and—”
“Look!” Piper interrupted, waving a letter. “This is only from three months ago. The post date is in the Mojave Desert. That’s, like, barely a three-hour drive away. You should go. Before any more competitive eaters come in.”
Ali shook her head. “I’m not going.”
Piper looked confused. “Why not?”
“It’s not fair to you, for starters,” Ali began.
“It’s fine,” Piper said, flapping a hand dismissively. “Honestly, Ali. I’ve been so bored out there at the till with just one customer to serve. I’d prefer to be back here baking anyway.”
Ali held her tongue. There was no point getting into it now when Piper was being so supportive in other ways.
“It’s not just that…” Ali added.
Piper swiveled on the stool to face her and took her by the shoulders. “I get it. It’s scary. But Ali, this is what you’ve wanted for a long time. To see your dad. Face to face. And he’s about as close to you now as he’s going to get. Three hours. You need to be bold and grab this chance. Who knows how long you have before it goes again.”
She was right. Ali clutched the letter to her chest. The lifeline to her father. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent,” Piper replied, smiling kindly.
“Okay,” Ali said, standing from the stool with a sudden giddy feeling. “I guess I’m going.”
She wasted no more time. With a parting glance at Piper, she hurried out of the bakery and onto the warm, palm-tree-lined, sunshine-soaked boardwalk.
CHAPTER THREE
Ali rushed to the lot behind her small beach-side apartment where her rarely used car was parked. Indeed, the last time she’d driven it anywhere was on a trip to find her father, which had ultimately turned out to be a humiliating fool’s errand.
She’d just located her car under the shade of a palm tree when the sound of barking from behind interrupted the usual gentle background noise of ocean waves and seagulls. She turned around to see Scruff, the town stray dog, come bounding toward her.
“Hi, Li’l Dude,” she said, using the affectionate nickname she’d given him.
She dug out a Jumbo bone from her pocket and bent down, holding it out to the little dog in offering. He reached her and took the bone in his jaws hungrily.
“Guess what,” she told him, petting his head as he munched. “I’m going on another road trip to find my dad.” Scruff had accompanied her on her last trip, giving the emotional support she needed when it turned out to ultimately be a failure. It seemed very fitting that his face would be the last one she saw before embarking on this new chapter in the search for her father.
Between chomps of the Jumbo bone, Scruff yipped.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Ali continued, chatting to Scruff like he was her confidant. “The last trip was a disaster. Well, you’ll be very pleased to know that I’ve done a little bit more research this time.”
Scruff paused midway through his munching to look at her and wag his tail enthusiastically.
Ali paused, too, and looked into his big brown eyes. Maybe he’d like to come on another trip with her? Having him there last time had been a true comfort, and this time he might be a much needed ice breaker between her and her father.
“Hey, I don’t suppose you want to come?” she asked him timidly.
Scruff wolfed down the last bite of his bone and yipped happily. Ali knew Scruff well enough now to understand the quality of all his different barks. That one was definitely in the affirmative. He wanted to come, and she was secretly very pleased to know she didn’t have to deal with this on her own again.
“Well, if you insist,” Ali quipped.
She unlocked the driver’s side door and allowed Scruff to hop in first. She didn’t even need to ask him to scoot over—the pup headed straight for the passenger side window. He put his paws up, as if asking for the window to be cracked.
Ali chuckled as she slid into her seat. She turned on the ignition and lowered the window just enough for him to tip his nose out and enjoy the rush of wind, but not so much that it would pose any danger. Scruff had been known to chase a seagull or two in his time, and Ali didn’t want him jumping out the window in pursuit while she was driving.
A whole host of emotions hit her as she reversed out the lot. This was the closest she’d ever come to finding her dad, but it wasn’t the first time she’d thought that, and she didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment. She’d been so convinced the last time that she was about to find her dad after all those years that she’d really allowed herself to get carried away. So inevitably when it had all fallen apart it had felt even more crushingly painful than if she’d braced herself all along for it to be a letdown. This time, she had to fight not to get her hopes up.
She drove along the main road which ran parallel behind the boardwalk businesses on one side and the rolling green hills dotted with Havana-style townhouses on the other, all painted a myriad of bright colors. Willow Bay truly was a very beautiful beach town, and Ali was eternally grateful she’d found such a pretty place to call home. She would never tire of the golden sand and brilliant blue ocean, of the tree-covered hillsides and the quirky, rainbow-painted houses. In just a few short months, the town and boardwalk was filled with a host of independent stores and eateries.
She passed through the downtown area where all the fancy restaurants were and where the Texan property mogul Sullivan Raine had recently opened a luxury hotel, heading for the outskirts of Willow Bay. But as she went, she spotted a very familiar person walking along the sidewalk. Golden-hued skin. Dark blond hair tied back in a low bun. Boardshorts. It was Nate.
Ali had had a sort of on-again off-again non-romantic kinda-platonic relationship with Nate the Australian surfer since her first few days in Willow Bay. They’d finally decided to end it and be friends a couple of weeks ago. So it came as quite a surprise to Ali, now, to see that Nate was not alone. He was walking along the sidewalk with his arm looped through a woman’s.
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He moved on fast, she thought.
She put her pedal to the metal and accelerated. She didn’t want Nate to spot her, and be forced into an awkward introduction to his new girlfriend. The timing was terrible.
But just then, Scruff started yip-yapping through the crack in the window. The friendly pup had spotted Nate and couldn’t hold back on barking his hellos. But he was giving her game away!
Nate turned at the sound, then started to wave. Ali wanted to hunker down in her car seat but that wasn’t an option. Scruff had left her no choice.
“Traitor…” she muttered.
She slowed down and pulled over to the curb, then lowered the window all the way and leaned across the seat toward it.
“Hey, Nate!” she called, feeling extremely sheepish.
“Hey!” Nate replied brightly in his Aussie accent. He trotted to the side of the car and petted Scruff. “Where are you two off to then?”
“The Mojave Desert,” Ali said, deliberately avoiding mentioning the reason why. “Daytripping, aren’t we, Scruff?”
He barked happily.
Just then, the woman Nate was with started to approach the car, and Ali’s eyes widened with stunned recognition. It was…Carys. The young woman who worked at Best Hot Dogs with Seth. Were the two of them an item now? Surely not!
As far as Ali knew, Carys had literally only just started college. Wasn’t she way too young for Nate, who was in his early thirties? How much common ground could two people from completely different generations really have to talk about?
“The Mojave Desert seems like a long way to go for a day trip,” Nate continued conversationally, as Carys slid up behind him and laced her arms possessively around his middle.
“Uh—um—” Ali stammered, taken completely off guard. “I’m following a lead on my dad.”
She snapped her lips shut, realizing her mistake too late.
Nate grinned from ear to ear. “Another lead? That’s great!” As her sort-of not-boyfriend over the last few months, Nate had had a front row seat to all her dad-related drama. He’d supported her through the whole ride, so it made sense he’d be happy and excited by the development.
Just then, Carys peered from around Nate’s torso. Her gaze slid to Ali inside the car, and her eyes narrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Hey, Carys,” Ali replied, a little surprised by her frosty reception. She’d known the young woman for a while now thanks to her employment at Best Hot Dogs. She’d always considered them to be on friendly terms. But now that Carys was romantically involved with Nate, Ali had evidently been demoted to his ex in her eyes.
“I was just telling Nate about my day trip,” she explained, trying to sound as non-threatening as she could. She really didn’t have any romantic interest in Nate, and wanted to make it clear to Carys that she was not a competitor in any way, shape, or form. “Scruff and I are off to the Mojave Desert.”
“Good for you,” Carys said, haughtily. She slid her arm through Nate’s, clinging to his arm like a barnacle to a whale. She gazed at him adoringly. “Nate’s taking me for a romantic brunch at a fancy downtown restaurant. We’re pretty famished after last night, aren’t we, baby?”
She giggled and Ali’s eyebrows flew up with astonishment. Poor Nate turned a bright shade of red. He averted his gaze. Ali squirmed, feeling secondhand embarrassment on his behalf.
The whole awkward exchange only confirmed in Ali’s mind what she already suspected—these two were a match made in hell. Nate, though young at heart, was at least mature enough to not need to brag about his bedroom antics and Carys was really showing her immaturity with that comment. Ali couldn’t help but cringe for him.
“Great, well, have a good day,” she said, hurriedly. “I’d better get going if I want to be back before sunset.”
She sped off before Carys got the chance to say anything else cringey, and shook her head with distaste as the pair disappeared from her rearview mirror.
“Honestly,” she said to Scruff, “what is Nate thinking? And Carys’s whole jealous girlfriend streak? Ew.”
Scruff barked his agreement (at least, Ali decided it was in agreement).
But then Ali decided to be a bit more generous. Carys was young. Being jealous of your first love’s ex was par for the course. Indeed, it could take several years to grow out of the knee-jerk reaction. She should give her some allowances. And she should certainly not devote any more energy to caring. She and Nate were well and truly in the past now anyway and there was no time to dwell on such silly matters as Nate’s terrible rebound. There were far bigger things happening. Like coming face to face with her father for the first time in sixteen years.
She turned her focus to the important matter at hand. The map.
She put Nate out of her mind and drove on, a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling inside of her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ali slowed her car to a roll and peered out the windshield at the sign for the RV park: Mojave Motorpark. It seemed far more modern than she expected for her father, with plenty of facilities like a swimming pool and air-conditioned stores with automatic opening doors. In fact, it looked very much to Ali like a temporary holiday spot, the sort of place a family might bring the kids to for their summer vacation, rather than somewhere a person would live for several months at a time.
Up ahead was a hole-in-the-wall reception window, like a drive-thru, and she pulled up to it. She buzzed down the window and looked up at the young woman inside. She was wearing a crisp white polo shirt, tennis skirt, and visor, and had her white sneaker-clad feet up on the desk. When she spotted Ali, she quickly moved them down and snapped into customer-service action-mode.
“Hi, how can I…Oh.” She paused, as her gaze found Scruff sitting in the passenger seat beside Ali. “I’m so sorry, but we have a no pets policy.”
Ali leaned her elbows on the window edge. “Actually, I’m not here to book in. I wondered if you might help me find someone. I think they might be living here on a semi-permanent basis. They sent me a letter and the post stamp led me here.”
The young woman frowned, then shook her head. “No one lives here permanently. This is a holiday resort.”
Ali twisted her lips with hesitancy. The postmarks on the last letter her father had mailed her had definitely come from here. She could even see a similar hole-in-the-wall hatch further along the row of stores that had a post office sign above it. She was sure she was in the right place. But if her dad was breaking some kind of rule by living here semi-permanently she didn’t want to get him into trouble. That would certainly put their reunion off to a bad start.
The young woman in the hatch leaned her elbows on the ledge.
“You know, there is a mobile trailer park that way.” She pointed down the hill. “It’s pretty basic, but people do live there. Sometimes they come up here to use the facilities. The shop and pool and stuff.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “We’re their closest post office, too, so if someone did want to send a letter, it’d be quicker to come up this way to do it than go all the way into town.”
Ali’s chest lifted with hope. Though she couldn’t imagine her father living in a trailer park, she did have to admit it fit the profile of a man who’d spent the last decade and a half in cross-country transit.
“Thanks,” Ali said to the young woman. “That’s really helpful. Just down the hill, you said?”
The woman nodded her confirmation. “Just follow the road. Can’t miss it. There’s a big sign, too. I think it’s called Desert View or something like that.”
“Thanks so much,” Ali said, quickly shifting her car into reverse.
She reversed from the hatch and back onto the main road, then left the swanky RV park behind her as she drove down the hill in the direction the receptionist had indicated.
The terrain became dustier and more rugged as she went, and a sudden glare of refracted sunlight in the distance made her squint. It looked like the ocean, Ali thought, until she realized she w
as in fact gazing upon a sea of gleaming silver bullet trailers.
She raced on until she reached the big sign, a large stretching arch of burnished metal and burned wood. Desert View. Her tires kicked up dusty sand and stones as she turned and inched beneath it into the park proper.
Desert View appeared to be some kind of hippie haven. Between the many silver bullet RVs hung windchimes that tinkled in the breeze. Colorful flags flapped. Washing lines were strung between the different RVs with linen drying in the heat. Various old posters were pinned to the wooden posts that held up awnings for shade, and they all appeared to be from marches and protests of bygone eras, sun-bleached and faded, the nails holding them in place rusted.
This was far more appropriate for her father as Ali remembered him to be. No airs and graces, just a back to basics way of living. It fit his free spirit more than the ultra-modern motorhome vacation park up the hill did.
Just then, Scruff started to bark out the window, and Ali spotted a dozy whippet stretched out on its belly as it snoozed in the sunshine. The dog was lying at the feet of a man playing a banjo in a battered old sun lounger, and his fingers stopped on the banjo strings as he caught sight of Ali peering at him.
“You all right there, miss?” he asked with a squint.
Ali felt her mouth become suddenly dry with nerves. She’d gotten close to finding her dad before, only for that hope to be dashed. But each time before it hadn’t felt quite right, it had been wishful thinking, and on reflection after the event it was very clear to her that she’d been on the wrong trail. This time was different. This time everything felt just right, and a small part of her balked at the prospect she may indeed be about to meet her father.
“I’m looking for someone,” Ali said, her voice coming out small and uncertain. “I wonder if you can help me?”
“You’re looking for Richard, right?” the banjo player said.
His words knocked Ali off guard.
“Yes!” she cried. “How did you know?”
“Because you look just like him,” the man said. “You must be the youngest. It’s Ali, right?”