“Never seen this place from this
point of view,” Wilma said, sitting on the holding cell’s bench and glancing
around. “Rather inhospitable.”
Rebecca and Greta, both on the bench
next to her, nodded.
“You know what's missing? Curtains,”
Greta suggested. “Some festive theme. In red. There would be no outside view,
but the bars would stay hidden. Would boost morale.”
Wilma assented. “And pillows. This
bench is too hard.”
And now that they were on the topic,
an in-depth cleaning would do this place a world of good.
"In hindsight, it was a good
decision to keep the bathing suits on,” Rebecca said.
Yep, it had been. Or they would have
been facing charges for breaking and entering, indecent exposure, and giving an
officer of the law a heart attack.
“He got mad this time,” Greta
murmured. “The bottle of champagne didn't help.” Neither did all the run-ins
they’d had with Adrian lately.
“I can't believe you arrested them,”
they heard Rachel yelling from the office.
“Your granddaughter is here to
rescue us,” Rebecca informed Wilma. Then she frowned. “We didn't get a free
phone call, like in the movies. Or did we get it and I spaced out?”
“I don't remember calling anyone,”
Greta mused, shaking her head.
Neither did she, but whoever had
phoned Rachel had their best interest in mind. Rebecca's grandson, Mike, would
have bailed them out but would have given them a talk and taken the sheriff's
side. Greta's son, Grady, would probably pay to keep them behind bars. Rachel
was the only one carrying the senior flag. She always took their side, no
matter what. Even when they were in the wrong.
She'd rushed to their defense when
the sheriff tried to get Wilma's driving license revoked, which, taking into
consideration that they were driving twice the allowed speed and about to turn
into oncoming traffic, kind of made sense. In their defense, though, Wilma
hadn't had her glasses on, so she hadn't seen the speedometer. And the oncoming
traffic consisted of an empty street with a couple of cars parked on it.
Rachel sounded outraged. “You can't
keep eighty-year-olds in a holding cell.”
“And I wouldn't have if they didn’t
try to convince one of my officers to release them.”
“Since when is it a crime to try to
conv—”
“Slipping him money,” Adrian cut
Rachel off.
“I told you it was a bad idea,”
Rebecca mumbled to her friends. “A fifty-dollar bill was too little.”
“Trying to bribe an officer is
illegal. Breaking and entering too,” Adrian stated, his voice calm. So far.
Rachel's snort was loud. And rude.
“There was nothing broken, and they didn't enter the building. They just used
the outdoors facilities. You could say they were rehearsing for the opening,
making sure everything worked.”
Wilma looked at her friends. “Why
didn’t we think of that?”
The conversation outside seemed to
grow louder and louder. Rebecca lifted her shoulders. “In between the champagne
and the chlorine I ended up guzzling, I was a bit fuzzy. Still am.”
Greta pointed at the toilet in the
far corner. “It's the smell coming from that. As soon as we get out of here,
we're organizing some fundraiser to get this place in tip-top shape.”
Wilma couldn't stifle the laughter.
“You plan on visiting often?” At her friend’s shrug, she dug into the pocket of
her bathrobe and produced her cellphone. “Let’s immortalize the moment. Just in
case.”
“You had your phone all this time?”
Rebecca asked.
“I just remembered. Let’s do a
selfie. With the bars as the backdrop. Ladies, get your duck faces on.”
“I really don’t understand it,”
Greta said in a sigh. “All our lives being told small lips are beautiful, and
look at us now. Right when we need them, they’ve deflated.”
“Like everything else,” Rebecca
commiserated. “No lips, no boobs, no ass. Just shriveled-up skin.”
“It’s from all the time we spent in
the pool, don’t worry,” Greta said.
Rebecca didn’t seem too convinced.
“Ready?” Wilma asked, interrupting.
She wasn’t wearing her glasses, so she wasn’t sure the shot was centered, but
she stretched out her hand, took the picture and hoped for the best. “Now let’s
Tweet with the hashtags #campingwiththegirls #exploringnewfrontiers
#nevertooOldtogetarapsheet.”
“Two months,” Adrian said sternly.
Wilma could almost see him standing with his arms crossed on his chest. That
handsome, young face of his, frowning and getting old and crinkled prematurely.
What a waste. “The B&B opens in a couple of months. Couldn't they wait?”
Rachel was raising her voice,
sounding exasperated. “They don’t make long-term plans.”
“Two months is a long-term plan?”
“What do you think? They don't even
buy their bananas green,” her granddaughter all but yelled, her tone
aggravated. Wilma could also see her in her mind, standing as tall as possible,
on tiptoe, probably, facing off with Adrian. “This is an abuse of authority.”
Rebecca turned to Wilma. “I love
your Rachel. You really got lucky in the grandchildren department.”
Wilma knew. She'd missed her
granddaughter's childhood because of the divorce, but Rachel had gotten in
touch with her ten years ago, and when she decided to move to Alden, Wilma had
been ecstatic.
“Like you can complain with Mike,”
Greta said to Rebecca. “You’re both lucky. I struck out.”
Greta's son was no fun. Her
grandson, Connor, was a sweetheart, but he was in the military and was very
seldom in the US.
“I remind you I'm already taking
care of all the police cars’ maintenance.” Rachel’s voice was getting louder by
the second.
“Three cars. Do I have to remind you
what the OGs did to make that happen?”
Greta and Wilma stared at Rebecca,
who whispered, “What?! That was an accident. It could happen to any one of us.”
“Wait a second.” There was a pause,
and then Rachel cursed. “You have them in their bathing suits and wet robes?
What are you thinking? They’re old. They could get a cold and die,” Rachel
reprimanded him.
Good attempt at guilt tripping. It
might have worked with other police officers, but Adrian was too seasoned. The
OGs knew; they’d tried it before.
Adrian snorted. “They won’t. Viruses
don’t dare mess with them. And it’s not my fault they decided to drive there in
their bathing suits and without any spare clothes. Wait, how do you know…”
“They’re Tweeting from their cell,
that’s why. You have them half-naked in there.”
Oops… and Wilma thought she’d
pointed the camera at their faces.
“I’m going to sue you,” Rachel
continued. “The whole department. This is misuse of power. Abuse of authority.
Human rights violation. Whatever it’s called.”
From then on, Wilma couldn’t make
out the words, because both were screaming. After a short while, the door from
the corridor opened, and Rachel marched in, followed by Adrian.
“How good to see you, dear. You're
here to bail us out?” Wilma asked, as the sheriff began unlocking the cell.
Rachel had her arms crossed, her
lips pursed, and was giving him the evil eye. “I'm afraid not, grandma.”
Adrian opened the cell and, to their
surprise, pushed Rachel in and closed the door behind her. “She’s being charged
with disorderly conduct.”
“Disorderly conduct, my ass,” she
replied. “This is contempt of cop.”
The sheriff ignored Rachel. “The
phone, ladies,” he demanded, stretching his hand out to them.
Wilma harrumphed but gave it to him.
“Don’t take it out on poor Walter. He was scared of frisking me.”
“Have a great evening, ladies,"
he said as he walked away. “See you tomorrow.”
“Now what?” Greta asked when they
were alone again.
The four of them sat on the bench.
Wilma sighed. “Now we wait until
Mike logs on to Twitter.”
