Page 129 of Grown-Up Second Chance

My imagination wasn’t only running away … it was galloping.

Once I had cleaned up and chatted with my sisters, I sat down with my computer and uploaded the pictures I’d taken. There were some good ones in the shots I’d taken by the pond, but I kept going back to the ones I’d taken of the restaurant owners. I pulled out the email they’d given me and sent a few of the best to them.

Moments later a reply popped up.

Thank you so much! the woman wrote to me. We would like to use the one with us as a couple on the website. How much will you charge for us to use it?

Charge? I hadn’t even thought of selling my pictures. I was learning photography for my own enjoyment.

It’s yours, I wrote back. I enjoyed my meal and our conversation very much.

Thank you, the woman replied. Next time you come here, we will make a feast for you and your friends.

I smiled. The invitation was better than any check could ever be.

With my mood light, I walked to Joe’s spot.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” he said, putting his arm around me and giving me a kiss.

On the lips.

My eyes widened, and he chuckled.

“I love to see that expression. I’m going to have to get more of that going.”

“Okay,” I said. “Who are you and what have you done with Joe?”

More laughter.

“Let’s just say I’m a work in progress,” he said. “How about a trip to Wall? I figure we’ve done enough hiking for the day. We can walk around, look at the kitsch, and have a burger. I’d love to treat you to a five-star restaurant, but that’s a bit hard to come by in Wall.”

“Wall’s the place with all the signs on the highway, right?”

“Yep. ‘Have you dug Wall Drug?’”

I laughed.

“What’s interesting,” he continued, “is that the official signs go as far away as Greybull, Wyoming, about four hundred miles. But people make up their own signs and put them all over the place. There were several in Vietnam during the war.”

“Crazy.”

“It gives you something to do on that long stretch of highway,” he said. “So?”

“Sure.” The kitschy town might be a brief respite from the intense conversations we’d been having.

~ ~ ~

And it was. We looked at all the tourist souvenirs, inspected the stuffed jackalope, and posed for pictures with wooden cowboys. Our free glass of water was thirst-quenching and the five-cent cup of coffee adequate.

The amount of stuff squeezed into the intersecting shops and corridors and tucked away into small rooms was staggering. The products ranged from painted wooden figurines, guaranteed to get lost in a closet within a month of the return home, to richly tooled cowboy boots.

“Those are beautiful,” Joe said as I inspected a pair of delicately crafted golden feather earrings.

“Yes. Unusual.” I moved on. They weren’t expensive, but I didn’t need to be foolish with my money.

I didn’t think any more of it until we were at dinner when he pulled out a box.

“There are many more things to talk about,” he said. “But I’m so glad you’re here, willing to take this much time with me. No matter what you ultimately decide, I hope you’ll accept these as a memento of the moments we had together.”

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