The Tree Shepherd's Daughter (16 page)

The little glass-fronted room with the two commercial
washers and dryers was full of half-naked pirates. They
were drinking mead, throwing dice, and waving their arms, probably telling stories to each other, and not one of
them had on more than underwear.

Keelie presumed that their clothes were being washed,
but she wasn't about to go near the place, no matter how
good they looked. And some of them were lots of fun to
look at. She could sell tickets. The Full Randy-a new pirate show.

It had been a pain to do the laundry by hand. Next
time, pirates or no pirates, she was using the machines, or
else she'd be the one that was naked. But that might be
moot. In two hours she'd be at the mall.

Keelie stared in disbelief at the ancient pickup truck with
its rusted hood. She'd rushed through Ariel's feeding for
this?

"Like I'm going to be seen riding around in this ski
chalet on wheels," Keelie said. "Everybody who sees me
get out of this contraption will expect me to yodel."

The thought of shopping at a real mall had made her
almost giddy, but the jubilation deflated when she saw
Zeke's unbearable ride.

The pickup truck wasn't so bad. It was even kind of
cool, in a retro-cowboy way. But the A-frame camper
attached to the back of it, decorated like a shop project
birthday cake with gingerbread trim, horrified her.

Zeke sighed. "It's the only wheels I have, Keelie, so if
you want to go to the mall and buy some new clothes,
then you're riding in this `ski chalet on wheels."'

"I don't see how you draw the chicks with this," she
said. "This buggy broadcasts `Granola Acres Retirement
Home' loud and clear."

"This is just transportation, Keelie. And I'm older than
I look, but I'm not retirement age."

"How old are you?" It hadn't occurred to her before to
ask his age.

"Old enough to be your daddy." He opened the
camper. "Would you like the grand tour, mademoiselle?"

She was going to refuse, but the smell of cedar wafted
from the dark interior like a forest perfume. Irresistible.

Her hand reached out, fingertips touching the wood
of the camper frame. It was blue spruce and cedar, from a
remote northern forest in Alberta, Canada. Lovely.

She was growing used to the internal wood identification system she seemed to have been born with. In L.A. it
had been faint, but here, surrounded by old forest, it was
like a sound system turned up full blast.

The inside of the camper looked like a dollhouse. A
small stove and refrigerator lined the back, next to a minute countertop and sink. Garlands of garlic and dried red
peppers hung from a cup hook overhead.

"This is so cute!" As long as it stayed parked right here.

She ran her hand over the homemade quilt with awesome tree appliques that was tucked over the mattress on
the shelf bolted to the wall.

A smaller shelf below the big one held a round pet bed
lined with fleece and decorated with reindeer. Even if she
hadn't guessed that it was Knot's bed, Keelie recognized
his orange cat hair. An evil smile tugged at her lips. So, the wittle bitty kitty had a reindeer bed. She'd remember to
torment him with that knowledge next time she saw him.

She looked out a window and saw the majestic Rockies, rising like giant stone teeth, and the Faire, tucked in
at the bottom of the rising rock mammoths like a village
from a fairy tale by Grimm.

Keelie glanced around the small interior. It had a cozy,
self-sufficient atmosphere to it. She loved it, but something had to be done about the hideous alpine hillbilly
exterior.

"Getting the fifty-cent tour?" Raven stuck her head in
the door. "So, Keelie, what do you think?"

"This is too cute. Like a little dollhouse."

Zeke smiled at Keelie.

"I just don't want to be seen driving in it." She watched
her father's smile vanish.

"Yeah, just think how it'll be learning how to drive it.
You're fifteen, right?"

Learn to drive? In this? Keelie grabbed the doorway.
Elm.

Zeke looked kind of faint, too. "Learn to drive? Already?"

"Miss fourteen years and it kind catches up to you,
doesn't it?" Keelie stood straighter. Learning to drive in
this buggy was so not going to happen, but if it made Zeke
uncomfortable, she'd let him think she wanted it.

"Mom had a Volvo. Fabulous safety rating." She flicked
the doorway with her finger.

Raven grinned up at her. "My mom taught me how to drive in her old VW van. It was like driving a box. Worse,
it reeked of stale patchouli."

Raven shouldered her purse. She looked great in hiphugging jeans and layered sweaters. As she reached up,
Keelie saw a glint of gold at the waistband of Raven's jeans.
A belly ring.

Envy stung Keelie. She wanted one so badly. For sure
she'd have it before the summer was done.

"Earth to Keelie. Ready to go to the mall?" Raven was
grinning.

Mall! Keelie'd been distracted from her mission for
new clothes. She wanted-no, needed-to go shopping.
It wasn't just about underwear. She craved the processed
air, the new-clothes smell of retail heaven, not to mention
the scents of fresh high-end coffee brewing, perfume samples, and the mingled smells of the food court-cinnamon
buns, French fries, and Chinese food-that would infuse
new life into her blood cells. She jumped down from the
camper, landing with a splash.

"I'm ready."

If she had to ride in the Swiss Miss Mobile to get there,
then by golly, she'd do it. Mom would've been proud that
Keelie hadn't let any obstacle stop her from going shopping.

Zeke hopped into the driver's side of the ancient truck,
inserted his key, and the engine coughed like a chain-smoking emphysema patient Keelie'd met when she'd gone on
pink lady volunteer rounds with Grandma Josephine.

Raven jumped in next to Keelie after she got back in, squishing her against Zeke, then slammed the passengerside door shut.

Finally, the engine sputtered to life. Zeke pulled out of
the graveled back parking lot where the Renaissance Faire
actors and vendors parked their personal vehicles.

The place was crowded with Faire workers in everyday clothes, enjoying their day off. She didn't see Captain Randy. She almost giggled at the thought of just how
much of him she'd seen earlier. It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "pirate booty."

"On weekdays the craftspeople work on their wares,
making more stock for the weekends," Zeke explained.

Raven laughed. "Not everyone's a craftsperson. A lot of
us go to the laundromat, the grocery store, and do all those
errands we don't have time for during the weekends."

Another pickup truck approached them, this one perfectly normal, with no dents, and best of all, no chalet on the
back. It was full of long-haired guys. The driver leaned out
and blew kisses at them. Captain Randy! Had he seen her?

Zeke shook his head.

Raven rolled her eyes. "That idiot. He was probably at
the Admin office picking up his paycheck."

"Paycheck?" It hadn't occurred to Keelie that these guys
got paid. She thought they all sold their stuff, like her dad
did.

Raven gave her a look. "This ain't Middle Earth. The
ones who aren't craftspeople are actors and performers."

"Does Elia get paid, too?"

"You bet."

"Not for her personality, that's for sure." As they approached the highway, Keelie ducked down.

"Need a nap?" Zeke's perfect profile was turned toward
the road.

"Nope. Just because I had some kind of Little House
on the Prairie spasm in the camper does not mean I want
to be seen hauling it through the hills like Jed Clampett's
kin."

"Jed who?"

Keelie sighed. The man was a media moron. "I'll bet
you never watch Nick at Nite, do you? Hello? The Beverly
Hillbillies?"

"Never met them."

Raven laughed and started to sing the theme song.

"And you're probably old enough to have seen them
when the show was new," Keelie added.

He grinned. "I probably am."

"At least the rain's held off this morning." Raven looked
at the lowering dark clouds.

"Business is way off because of it." Zeke drove with
both hands on the wheel. Mom had driven with one hand
on the wheel and a cell phone in the other.

"Elianard doesn't seem to be hurting financially." Keelie
remembered his lush robe and fancy house.

"He doesn't show his face much at the Faire. He must
have another business," Raven said.

"He's a teacher." Zeke turned on the truck lights as rain
hammered them.

Keelie couldn't imagine what the beaky-nosed, arro gant man could teach. He hadn't taught his daughter any
manners, that was for sure.

Two hours later, after driving in pouring-down rain
around what seemed like every street in the world, they arrived at the mall. Funny-it only should have taken thirty
minutes from the Renaissance Faire grounds to the mall,
according to Cameron.

Like a typical man, Dad refused to ask for directions.
Whenever Raven asked if he could pull over in a service
station to ask, he said, "I know what I'm doing." If Mom
had been driving, she'd have used her sales sonar to zone
in on the exact location. Or her GPS system.

Keelie sighed with delight as she scanned the grand
temples of retail. She'd brought her money with her, but
she wasn't going to spend it unless she had to. Dad owed
her. She'd spend his money first. Plus, she might need it
when she left for L.A.

"You girls hop out here, and I'll park the truck."

Keelie hopped out and ran for the doors, not anxious
to be seen leaving the Swiss Miss Chalet on wheels.

She and Raven went through the revolving doors and
stopped inside by a bubbling fountain. Music wafted
through the air above the hushed murmurs of hundreds
of shoppers.

Keelie took a deep breath, ready for a hit of that shopping-mall smell. This California girl was so ready.

Instead, the air seemed stale, a recycled stink that seemed
familiar, but gross. Artificial. It wasnt the life-reviving result
she'd anticipated. The first inhalation of mall air had always
filled Keelie with a feeling of delirious anticipation. She stared around at the carefully manicured indoor gardens,
the water fountain, the bright colors of store signs, and carefully arranged displays. It all seemed fake.

Don't panic, she reassured herself. She'd been through
a lot of stress, and she needed to get inside a store. A real
store with real clothes, and then she'd feel like the real
Keelie.

"I'm ready for a tall latte and a dose of retail therapy,"
Raven declared.

Zeke joined them, looking disoriented and totally out
of place.

"Where do we start?" he asked. "I take it this is your
natural environment?"

Keelie swept her arm in a dramatic gesture, then twirled
around on one foot like a ballerina. "This is my world."

Zeke sighed. "Then give me the grand tour."

Keelie scanned the directory and found her favorite store.
"La Jolie Rouge is on the third floor. Let's start there."

"I love their clothes." Raven ran her finger down the
illuminated glass sign. "Here's the coffee shop. Want to
come there with me first, or shall I join you later?"

"Let's get this over with as quickly as possible." Zeke
didn't look well.

She wanted to do it all, but if her father was going to
declare a time limit, she needed to strategize.

"Get me a double-shot grande latte. And if they have
almond biscotti, a couple of those." Keelie looked at her
father. "How about you? Herb tea?"

"Green tea," he corrected. "With honey."

"Fair trade honey." Raven laughed. "Okay, folks, see
you in a bit." She disappeared into the crowd.

Zeke stepped awkwardly onto the escalator, and Keelie
took his arm. She didn't want him to fall down and cut
their shopping trip short. He drew himself up, standing
straight, and patted her on the hand, but his gaze was
fixed overhead, on the skylights, where rain pattered onto
the glass panels. Zeke's hair had parted around his ear, and
Keelie saw a pointed ear tip.

She touched her round right ear, then felt the left one,
the one with the funky pointed tip that she always kept
covered with her hair or a headband. Mom had said it was
a kind of birthmark. Now she knew who to blame.

Maybe all the pointy ears she'd seen earlier weren't
fakes, but she was at the mall. She'd ask him about it later.

In La Jolie Rouge, she raced to the teen section, where
she quickly started picking out clothes to try on. She narrowed her choices down to ten shirts and five pairs of
hip-hugger pants. Zeke sat on a wooden window seat and
leaned his head against the glass wall, arms crossed and
eyes closed. Shopping obviously wasn't his fave activity.

A young salesgirl with a pierced eyebrow helped Keelie
carry her clothes to the dressing room.

"Where did you get your piercing done?" Keelie whispered, glancing toward her snoozing parent.