Page 51 of Big & Lily

“You never know,” she says with a playful smile. “I could be your fox. Have you ever seen us both in the same place?”

We laugh, and I place the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit.

Brick stands and starts heading back to the van. Not time to go already. I’m having such a lovely afternoon, now that Lily and I have survived, sitting here cross-legged on the ground, eating a chicken salad sandwich that would have kept me in my mother’s will had I known the recipe, and talking and laughing with our new friends.

Instead of “pack up, folks,” Brick says, “I almost forgot! Heidi sent along some beer to go with our lunch.” He opens the back of the soon-to-be-abandoned van and pulls out a cooler. “Cokes too.”

I raise my hand. “Coke for me, please.” I’m done with drinking for the foreseeable future. My last experience was not my finest hour.

Brick hands me a soda and then one to Xavier and Dane. Dane turns the can around in his hand and asks, “Hey, how ’bout a big-boy drink for me today?”

Everyone looks to Dane, then to Brick. Except for Lily, who’s got her eyes on the ground. What happens when someone fresh out of rehab asks for a drink? Is Dane’s sobriety our tour guide’s responsibility? I have the strongest urge to stand up and step in. After all, there is a possibility my sister has something to do with this. Here we go again, clean up in aisle nine. Then it dawns on me, my sister should be the one with the bucket. Her mess, her mop up.

Before anyone can intervene, Dane glances at Lily and then flashes a Hollywood smile at Brick. “Ah, just kidding. Gotta keep a clear head for more moose sightings, right?”

He’s not a great actor, but I’m sure everyone appreciates the effort. If they are like me, knowing what went on between my sister and him, they are all a little uncomfortable as it is.

Chapter Twenty-Four

We are finishing up lunch when an old van, similar to Brick’s but more road weary, pulls up behind us. A man with a weathered face and a ponytail hops out and beams at Brick with a crooked-toothed smile. They shake hands and slap each other’s shoulders, and after a few words, he and our guides begin to transfer our belongings and other supplies into our new chariot.

“Oof, who brought these monsters?” Frank asks, pulling out Lily’s and my suitcases with more theatrics than necessary. “You got the King of England in your group this time, Brick?”

“We certainly didn’t need all that stuff,” I say to Lily, out of earshot of our new driver. I will not be raising my hand and admitting it’s us, the foolish sisters from Jersey, who packed like we were going on a ’round-the-world trip when all we needed was a sturdy pair of hiking boots.

“There’s still a chance in Talkeetna,” she says. “I hear it’s a real town. With bars and restaurants and people!”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up. ‘Real town’ is relative around here. You could fit seventy-five New Jerseys in Alaska, but it has seven million fewer people.”

“And where’d you get that data, nerd?”

“The airplane magazine. It was surprisingly informative.” Lily rolls her eyes. “And don’t forget,” I add. “We’re staying at another campground. I doubt you’ll find a place to plug in your hot rollers.And not for nothing, but sprucing up probably isn’t the best idea right now. I mean, if you’re trying to discourage you know who. Not that it’s going to help, from the looks of his sad puppy face.”

“Stop. He’s fine.”

“He asked for a beer, Lil.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“Keep telling yourself that, but you’re going to have to—”

Lily doesn’t want to hear another lecture. She turns her back on me and climbs into the van. Except this time, she lets me sit next to her.

Frank’s ancient vehicle leaves with a sputter and a bang. There are three rows of stained Naugahyde seats covered with duct tape, and a dashboard covered with wrappers, stickers, and tchotchkes—including a wobbling hula dancer that must be a relic from the sixties, probably the same year the van was manufactured. The windows roll down with a handle, and there are still ashtrays in the doors. From the jerking of my spine, it’s also missing shock absorbers. I dig Mimi’s motion sickness wristbands out of my bag and pat my jacket pocket for the anti-nausea pills I’d tucked in there—just in case.

Compared to no-traffic-light McCarthy, Talkeetna does seem like a bustling metropolis. Part Western movie set, part nineteen-seventies hippie time warp. The main street is flooded with locals in worn jeans and faded flannels and dusty baseball caps, and tourists in Patagonia fleece and pastel-colored athleisure and moose-embellished Alaska-themed souvenir sweatshirts.

“We’re here until after dinner,” Brick says to us as we pull out our phones and start snapping photos with the souvenir sweatshirt set. “Then Frank will run us up to the campsite in Denali State Park. We’re heading out early from there tomorrow, so take advantage of your quiet afternoon. What’s left of it. The town ischarming, there’s tons of history, and you can’t get lost. And keep an eye out for Aurora—not the northern lights, the cat. She’s the mayor of Talkeetna, yes, the mayor. Go! Explore, learn, shop, and we’ll meet at the Cafe & Grill.” He points to a gray building with a wooden front porch that could easily have been the sheriff’s office in a spaghetti western. “The desserts at the Cafe & Grill are legendary. Make sure you save room.”

Luna and Mimi set off to find the mayor. Ian tells Xavier they are going to the museum. Brick and Jace return to Frank’s van—it’s no-sightseeing day for them. That leaves Lily and me—with Dane.

“Guess it’s just us, ladies,” he says, beaming with delight. “Where to? I am but your humble servant.”

“Big has to pee,” Lily blurts.

“I do?”

“You just said that. What, are you getting senile now? Dane, we’re going to find a ladies’ room and then we’ll meet you...” She scans the street and points to a building with a grizzly bear sculpture in front and a sign that reads,beads & crystals. “We’ll meet you in there.”