“I don’t exactly live in Harrisonburg,” Myra said. “I mostly live close to Harrisonburg. This here’s Blue Ridge country.”
Riley got out of the car and looked up. There were a lot of stars in the sky. More than she’d seen in a long time. Vernon’s RV was parked just past some railroad tracks. A Blake Shelton song was playing somewhere inside the RV and spilling out the open door.
Vernon strolled over, coffee cup in his hand, and grinned down at Riley. “We got the RV all tuned up for you and it’s ready to go.”
“Go?” Riley said. “In an RV?”
“That’s so you get to your destination in style and comfort,” Vernon said. “And it’s real secretive. You don’t have to stop at a motel and give out your name. We even got it loaded up with food.”
Riley had two thoughts. The first was that Vernon’s grin was deadly good. And the second was that she had no clue where they were going. She was in whatever this was up to her armpits, and she wasn’t being included in the decision-making process. Not acceptable.
“We need a word,” Riley said to Emerson.
“Yes?”
“In private.”
“In my experience, when girls get that steely eye look and use that tone it’s never good,” Vernon said to Emerson. “You must have done something bad.”
“I can’t imagine what it might be,” Emerson said.
Riley leaned forward and poked him in the chest. “How about ruining my life?” Poke. “How about not consulting me on any of your nutso plans?” Poke. “And you didn’t eat the sandwich I made for you.”
“I don’t like white br
ead,” Emerson said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Riley said. “Everyone likes white bread.”
“You’re going into a land of hurt with this woman,” Vernon said to Emerson. “She’s pretty as all get-out but she’s not dumb, and you’re going to have to rearrange your thinking if she’s a keeper.”
“My thinking is perfect,” Emerson said. “What do you mean…‘keeper’?”
Vernon hung an arm on Emerson’s shoulder. “Son, you need to come with me. I got some homemade hooch in the RV that’ll set it all straight.”
Emerson followed Vernon into the RV, and Myra turned to Riley.
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s the smart one,” Myra said.
“Have they always been friends?”
“Ever since they were little boys. Emerson used to get shipped off to spend some of his summer with his ‘country relatives.’ We loved him dearly but he could be a trial. Even as a little boy he had a persistent personality.”
“How did you get to be country relatives? You must have had the same privileged childhood as your brother.”
“When I was four, my mother walked out on her marriage and left the Knight money behind. She took me with her. My brother, Mitchell, was fourteen and stayed with his daddy. When our father died, all the money went to him. It was just as well, because I’ve always been happy here in the mountains.”
“I get the impression Emerson wasn’t close to his father.”
“Mitchell wasn’t close to anyone. Not even his wives. Except for Bertram Grunwald. Mitchell and Bertram met at the University of Virginia and were instant chums. That’s how they put it. Chums. After college they stayed chums. They shared a lot of interests.”
“Such as?”
“Economics, poker, whores, and rockets. They used to fire them off from Rock Creek Park.”
“The whores or the rockets?”
“Both, I think. This was before Mitchell and Bertram conquered the world. They never forgot how they started, though. Just two rich kids with a dream to get even richer. Though Mitchell was far richer to start with.