by Joy Penny
“I mean it, princess,” said her daddy, grabbing his wife’s and his bags. “If any beach bum gives you trouble, I want to be the first to hear about it. I’ll have a fist with his name on it.”
Nana Abigail’s eyebrows arched as her husband and son-in-law exchanged a look and laughed. Lilac wondered if her grandpa had had a fist or two for her daddy back in the day.
“Bye!” said Lilac, shuffling off. She walked backward a few steps, her view of her family growing hazy through the tears.
“You’ve got this,” she told herself as she turned around.
And for the length of the mostly uneventful flight, she did.
Lilac couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep on the flight, but she’d had trouble sleeping the night before. All the excitement over graduation and saying goodbye to Gavin and everyone else for the foreseeable future… True, she hadn’t seen them when in Spain, either, except for that time her parents had paid to send Gavin there to join her for spring break, but she’d known then she was returning to her friends, to her routine in the fall.
She didn’t know anyone in Florida except for Aunt Frankie.
…And whoever had left a piece of paper with a phone number and the message, “Call me, hot stuff?” on it on her lap when she’d been asleep.
Ew. Lilac crumpled the paper in her fist but thought better of it, afraid of some overly aggressive guy taking it the wrong (or right, really) way. She stuffed it into her pocket, her eyes darting to and fro for some hint, but she doubted it was either of the hyper twenty-something women sharing the row with her—or at least, they certainly didn’t seem to be concerned with her reaction. She stood, opening the overhead bin and shoving aside a suitcase to get to her bag.
“Need help?” asked a silver fox in a suit who’d stepped up from the row beside her.
Wow, thought Lilac numbly. “Sure,” she said, feeling her voice shake as she stepped aside to give him room. “Thank—”
She bumped into someone as she moved back and whipped around to apologize. “Hey,” said an orange beach bum in a tank top and swim trunks. His baby face made him look anywhere between twelve and twenty, but he stared at her above chubby cheeks, his gaze flitting between her face and her chest.
Oh, crap. No. Not you.
“Did you get my note?” he asked.
Of course it was you.
“Miss,” said the handsome man from behind her. “Your bag.”
Lilac spun around to take the bag from the man who held it out to her just as a beautiful middle-aged woman appeared from the row behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist.
Of course. Taken. “Thank you,” she said, nodding her head.
“Can you guys not hold up the line?” shouted someone from the back of the plane.
Lilac turned back around to see the front of the plane nearly deserted in front of her except for the kid who looked ready to walk out the airport and dive into a pool.
“So, uh, I’m Benji—” started Beach Bum.
“Excuse me,” said Lilac, who had to shove him aside, smacking him a little with her bag.
He cleared his throat, the word “bitch” just barely audible. Lilac walked faster, making sure to snatch the paper out of her pocket and toss it into the garbage can as she exited into the terminal. She followed the crowd in front of her, considering running to the bathroom but afraid that Beach Bum was not too far behind her and might linger outside the door. She hated thinking like that, but she was alone. Even in Spain, she’d usually had someone from her host family or universidad with her. She bypassed the baggage claim because most of the stuff she wasn’t just storing at her parents’ was being sent via UPS by Grandma Violet. She pulled out her phone and switched it on to see where Aunt Frankie was waiting for her. There were a lot of notifications from her Instagram photo and Brielle at least had chimed in with Have a nice flight! in their group text.
There was a voice mail from Aunt Frankie—Argh, she always finds it easier to talk than text—and Lilac started to listen to it just as she spotted the wildly waving pale arm near one of the doors.
“Aunt Frankie!” shouted Lilac, slipping the phone back into her bag and jogging the rest of the way. She stumbled once. Darn sandals.
“My favorite niece!” said Aunt Frankie, taking her into her arms. Lilac knew she was supposed to point out she was Frankie’s only niece, but she had grown wearisome of that game.
Grinning, Lilac pulled back from the hug and took a good look at her aunt. It’d been months—since Christmas—since she’d last seen her. She’d dyed her usual pixie cut gray-and-ginger hair a deep auburn and she looked twenty years younger than Lilac knew her to be. “Love the hair,” she said, and Aunt Frankie pretended to fluff it.
“Thanks,” she said. “You look fabulous. More and more like a model every time I see you.”
“Thanks,” said Lilac, a rush of heat flooding her body. Maybe it was just her body trying to compensate for the chill of the A/C.
Beach Bum Benji walked through the doors and headed out onto the sidewalk, sparing a scathing but leering glance her way as he passed. Lilac tried to ignore him, letting Frankie take her by the hand.
“No luggage?” she asked.
“Grandma’s sending most of my stuff this week,” said Lilac.
Shaking her head, Aunt Frankie took her sunglasses off the top of her brow and slid them over her eyes. “Don’t be surprised if your boxes arrive with five thousand bottles of sunscreen. Even though I already have quite a stock from her over the years. Your grandma thinks it’s the perfect gift for a Floridian for every special occasion. Too bad she could never convince Dad to wear it.”
That reminded Lilac sharply of her own fears of getting melanoma. She gently took her hand from her aunt’s and dug into her bag, grabbing her sunglasses and her own bottle of SPF 50.
Aunt Frankie crossed her arms as Lilac started applying the sunscreen to her elbow. “I see she’s got you trained already.”
“It’s got toner in it,” said Lilac. “I don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb in the Florida sun.” She paused halfway through lathering up one of her arms. Her aunt was pretty pale. She probably burned instead of tanned.
“That’s what these are for, dear,” said Aunt Frankie, pulling a sunhat out of her tote bag and affixing it to her head. The brim was so large, it cast a shadow over her entire upper body.
“I’ll have to get one of those,” said Lilac, her skin already flush with the prickling of sweat. She stared out at the sky, so blindingly bright even with her sunglasses on. “And maybe polarized lenses.”
Aunt Frankie laughed and fished her car keys out of her tote. “Come on, Ms. UV-Ray-Battle-Ready. Let me whisk you away to my bungalow before you turn to ashes in the sun.”
Lilac caught Beach Bum Benji lowering his phone from his ear and pointing it in her direction, something like mischievousness on his expression as he snapped a pic of the “scenery” behind her. She shoved the bottle of sunscreen back into her bag and fell in step behind her aunt, no longer caring much whether or not she was protected from the sunlight.
Chapter Three
Lilac had had exactly twenty-five minutes to enjoy the jam-packed and colorful views of sunny Orlando before she’d arrived at her aunt’s house, and then she’d spent the whole evening catching up with her aunt and learning just a little more about Earl Stevenson, the guy Aunt Frankie had met through his wife, Tara, who had a yoga class with Frankie. Gavin had made her laugh with a side-by-side photo of his new digs, one of a window overlooking Lake Michigan and the other of a pile of clothes on the ground in front of a closed door. Apparently, his new roommates had been in flagrante delicto when he’d moved in and hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat.
They’d been texting about it all night, going off the group text into a private conversation. Even now, in the passenger side of Aunt Frankie’s car on Tuesday morning, Lilac texted to Gavin.
Morning. I know you’re probably getting ready for
work. (Me too. No rest for the wicked, right?) Good luck! You’ll be amazing.
She put the phone back on her lap, not really expecting him to text back, before taking in the sights around her. They’d left residential territory for the most part and were now smack-dab in tourist city. Souvenir shops full of Disney and Tildy merchandise you could pick up anywhere else in the world—or maybe you couldn’t, maybe they weren’t exactly licensed goods—tried to outdo each other with the lowest prices and restaurants from the fast food staples to the “dessert restaurant” claiming it was better than sex all competed for her attention. There were palm trees crammed in small strips dividing traffic or between lots on occasion, but for the most part, the town made use of every available inch of land.
She hadn’t often spent time out here, outside of all the theme parks, when she’d come before. True, they’d always met up with Aunt Frankie—either at a park or at her house—but they’d never lingered outside the gates for long.
Lilac’s phone buzzed as Aunt Frankie continued to explain the best route to the park. “This is where you’d turn to go to Disney,” she said. “And we already passed Universal. But for Tildy World, you’ll want to make sure you get over in time to merge onto this road here.” Aunt Frankie bit her lip as she looked over her shoulder and alarmingly kind of forced her way into an already-forming line of cars. They got honked at in return and Lilac winced, checking her phone for the message.
You, too, Li. Watch out, Ms. Tildy Tapir. Lilac Townsend is here to rock your world!
Lilac smiled and Aunt Frankie cranked up the A/C. Lilac had only had a few hours to sort through all her things at her parents’ house, but she’d made sure to leave the winter wear she’d stocked up on for life in Minnesota behind. That had left just a few lightweight blouses and dress pants to manage in the Florida heat and she’d only packed a couple of each in her carry-on. Aunt Frankie had helped her steam out the wrinkles the night before. Now she was wishing she’d left the blazer behind, as she could feel the sweat soak through three layers of clothes, if you counted the bra—and she always counted on that thing to hold up all that heft she carried in the front—and that was despite spending virtually all of her time since waking in air conditioning. She didn’t remember sweating like a pig whenever she’d visited as a tourist, either, but she’d worn mostly sundresses and shorts and tank tops. Whose bright idea was it to require formal attire from staff forced to toil in a place that reached steaming-vegetables temperatures?
So did your roommates ever at least say hi? typed Lilac.
She stared out the window at the sky, still bright even with her sunglasses on and the car visor down.
Yeah, typed Gavin. Sort of. They came out of their rooms with bedheads and a guy who’d given one of them head overnight, all four of them acting like I had done them a great disservice by daring to walk around and turning on the coffee maker this morning.
You told me Ryder was bald. How did he have bedhead?
He didn’t. I just thought it sounded good with my setup. Situational humor and all that.
Fail, typed Lilac. That’s about as bad as dorky dad jokes. Gavin has got no comedy game.
Always back to Daddy with you, isn’t it?
Lilac grimaced. Anyway… Enough about the sex lives of those who are getting some right now. She frowned. She didn’t remember the last time she’d gotten some. It couldn’t have been that long ago. There was that cute Omega Beta Chi boy she’d done on occasion throughout her time at school. He had to have been the last. But man, that had been back in early April. Had she really been so focused on the end of the school year that she’d “neglected” to take care of those needs?
And Brielle had always insinuated that Lilac was the one batting off guys with a stick. True, Brielle didn’t always draw the eyes of guys when standing next to her—the brunette was definitely beautiful, just not as curvy or as approachable—but she’d seen that little minx with a drink or two in her, her inhibitions flown. She had always been the aggressor with that creepy ex of hers, always the one asking for the booty call. And it was hard to outdo a guy like that when it came to libido.
Did I tell you there is, in fact, a Mrs. Earl?
Poor woman, wrote Gavin, as if he knew a thing about the man.
“Lilac, not to sound like your mother—my god, I don’t want to sound like my mother—but are you paying attention? Rodney told me we have to get you a car and charge it to him, but I wanted to bring you the first week or so to make sure you know the way.”
Like a student caught with her phone out, Lilac jumped in her seat, sending a quick TTYL before shoving the phone back into her purse. “Right,” she said. “Sorry.”
She stared at the highway sign, trying to commit it to memory. Sure, she’d be able to GPS the best route, but she did appreciate having Aunt Frankie free to guide her. Frankie had her inheritance and probably some kind of funds keeping her afloat, but she occupied her time crafting jewelry and selling it on Etsy. Lilac doubted she made enough that way to support her lifestyle, but it was what made her happy, and with the inheritance, that hadn’t really been a concern. Lilac wondered if she’d be one of the few in her family to work a traditional job for more than a couple of years, if she’d ever make enough to afford to support herself without reaching into those investment accounts and incurring fees and paying taxes that she didn’t fully understand on the withdrawals.
Still, it felt good to have that there as a backup. Good to be without the student loans that Brielle, Gavin, and even Pembroke bitched about. Just a fresh, clean start and all the world ahead of her.
“There it is,” said Aunt Frankie. “Little Lilac’s favorite place on Earth.”
As Tildy’s cheerful grin and waving blue-gloved hand poked out above the “Welcome to Tildy World, Turn Here!” sign, Lilac’s heart fluttered, and she felt for all the world like a wide-eyed, innocent child again.
“Ah-one and ah-two, wave your hands and make your dreams come true!”
Lilac stood on quivering legs, tightly clutching her purse in front of her knees with both hands. The sweat dripping from her palms made it difficult to hold on to the strap. She’d made a quick dash to the bathroom after kissing her Aunt Frankie on the cheek and thanking her for the ride, doing her best to touch up the flyaways that had become a permanent part of her hair in this heat, then taking her blazer off and running it under the hand dryer to evaporate some of the moisture. Of course, now it felt warmer than ever on her, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. And she had made a point of standing beneath an air vent while she waited for the receptionist to page Mr. Stevenson, which put her right in line with a screen playing old Tildy Tapir cartoons, a couple of kids sitting on the floor and staring vacantly at it. One little girl with her hair in two pigtails clutched a worn Tildy Tapir plush—it had to have been a hand-me-down, as it looked just like Lilac’s old treasured one, which ought to have been arriving in her boxes sometime this week—and Lilac thought vividly of her own childhood spent staring at the same thing.
“Don’t you want to watch a princess movie?” her mom had often asked, holding up a collection of Disney DVDs.
Lilac shook her head. Mama always asked that right at the good part when Tildy Tapir reached her hand out to save Silly Sandgrouse from falling off a cliff.
“I’m here!” Tildy said. “Reach out and wish hard enough–your dreams will come true!”
“You’ve seen that movie five hundred times, I swear,” said her mom, tossing the DVDs onto the coffee table with a sigh. “Yesterday, she asked me if Tildy and Silly could come to her birthday party. I had to tell her they aren’t even real, but I don’t know if she believed me…”
“Oh, let her be,” said her daddy. He looked up from his laptop then to reach forward and ruffle Lilac’s hair. “There’s nothing wrong with letting her dream, is there?”
“Miss Townsend,” said someone from behind her in a deep, burly voice. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”
She turned around, a smile plastered onto her face. “Mr. Stevenson,” she said, extending her hand toward him. He stepped closer, taking her hand with both of his and shaking it vigorously.
“Please,” he said, “‘Earl’ is fine.”
“And call me ‘Lilac,’” she said. “Thank you again for extending me this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”
“No, I appreciate you freeing up your schedule like this to fill in on such short notice.” He held tightly to her hand as he grinned at her, his eyes flicking down and up a few too many times. “But come on,” he said, turning and only then finally letting her hand go. “Let’s go to my office and we can get started.”
“Okay,” said Lilac, slipping her purse over her shoulder and wiping the moisture from her palm on her pant leg. She thought she caught sight of the woman behind the reception desk smirking at her as they passed the counter, almost as if to say she’d caught her in the movement, but the woman’s attention was quickly diverted by a man in a Hawaiian T-shirt who left his family and a mountain of luggage behind to approach her.
“Tent Tildy is the only official resort of Tildy World,” said Earl as they wove through tourists throughout the lobby. Lilac probably knew everything he was about to tell her, like the fact that the guests there were officially called the “campers,” but she kept her mouth shut. “We may not match the size or number of resorts they have at those other theme parks, but we like to think we have even better service, better amenities.” He stopped suddenly and Lilac almost crashed into him as two kids ran across his path.
“I’m so sorry!” said a beleaguered woman running a few steps behind them. “Colin, Embry!”
Earl laughed. “No problem at all, happy camper.” Tent Tildy was about as far from a camping experience as you could get, but the entire place was decked out like a wilderness lodge or a camping site, with decorations like fake campfires and plastic pine trees peppered throughout. It was supposed to be like the campsite where Tildy, Leah, and Silly had spent most of Tildy Tapir: The Grand Adventure: The Movie, Tildy’s first and most popular feature-length adventure. Lilac remembered shouting at her mom that Tildy and Silly were real after all the first time they’d set foot inside.