A Road Trip
Prologue
Dear Danny,
Hello! Long time, no answer! You're probably wondering who I am and why I'm writing. Remember me? Cousin Bethany? Remember all the times during the summer when you and your mom and dad and sister Wendy came to our little cottage near Kennebunkport, Maine? Remember the town of Eveton? Of course, it was nearly twenty years since I last saw you here with your friend Joey (And by God, I do remember Joey.).
Anyway, I'm still living in Maine in the same cottage. Mom and Dad (your aunt Cynthia and Uncle Jimmy) died long ago and left me the house, since I have no brothers and sisters. I'm living in the house now with my husband, Phillip and our four children; Amaria; 15, Parker; 11, Jamie Kate; 6 and Dylan; 11 months.
I heard all about your wife Pam's death from a family friend. I'm so deeply sorry. I'd only met her after your oldest daughter was born, and I wasn't really that close with her, but my prayers and thoughts are still with you.
Okay, enough blabbering! What I'm really writing to you is to ask you a favor: How would you like to visit our cottage in Maine and hopefully buying it from me? I'm thinking about selling for a home in New York and who better to give my old home to than you? Besides, this will be a good excuse for you to take a nice vacation, right where we all used to have fun. You don't have to move to Maine for good. It can be a nice summer home if you'd like. And furthermore, I'd love to see you and your family. I've heard great things about them; Joey's show, Jesse's band...so bring them along as well. I'd love to see Joey, Wendy, and Jesse! And of course, you as well! So, please come!
Love,
Cousin Bethany
Stephanie
That's the postcard we received this morning at breakfast. Usually, someone like my older sister D.J. or Dad picked up the mail, but not today. I was up and early. I was expecting a package from the Tommy Page fan club, so I wanted to make sure I was the first one to get the mail.
Well, there was no package. All there was were bills, junk mail, and a flyer for a Rice-A-Roni eating competition (I'll give that to Kimmy; she loves that stuff). But when I saw the postcard, I just had to read it. After all, who would write us from all the way in Maine? And after I finished reading it, all I could think of was: We're going on vacation? I hope Dad decides not to move us to Maine.
It was almost the end of school and I knew my dad needed the vacation time considering the sheer fact that he's been working like a dog at that studio. A vaca was just what he needed. It was what we all needed. Even though I hoped Dad wouldn't want to move to Maine, I had to thank Bethany, whoever she was for giving us the excuse to take a vacation in the first place.
After I told Dad and the rest of the family about the postcard, first I got a scolding for reading his mail (when it concerns all of us). Then we discussed the situation. Dad wanted to go, but he wasn't sure on how to get there. Aunt Becky was afraid it might clash with something she wanted to do at work. D.J. didn't want to leave her boyfriend, Steve. Michelle didn't want to leave her friends and Uncle Jesse was a little skeptical about it. The only ones who wanted to go were Dad, Vicky, Joey, and me. (Hey, like I said, I wanted to leave the house for awhile.)
Dad compromised with everyone after that. Aunt Becky would have to get a sub co-host for the show she shares with my dad, we all could bring a couple of friends, and we could all pinpoint a location anywhere in the USA to visit. Uncle Jesse perked up at this, insisting that he go to Graceland, the hometown or whatever of Elvis.
Here is the complete trip lineup:
Dad, Joey, Uncle Jesse, Vicky, Aunt Becky, D.J., Michelle, Kimmy (Yes, her. Oh, groan), Steve, Denise, Aunt Wendy, Nicky, Alex, and me (I didn't really have anyone I wanted to go with, since my best friend Gia went to Canada to visit family friends).
The only trouble was getting there. Try fitting all of us in a minivan. Nope, not gonna work. So Dad rented two RVs and split one half of the family up to go to the northern part of the US and the other half in the southern part. He even calculated the time and distance (Two weeks of traveling across the country; three thousand miles), how much gas, food, and hotels would cost in each state...He was on a roll, until Joey put duct tape on his mouth to shut him up. Dad had decided not to move to Maine for good, but he was thinking about having it as a summer home, so that made me feel even better about the trip.
When everyone had been called, the RVs rented, the planning had been made, the places had been pinpointed, I finally laid down on my bed, my brain exhausted with too much going on in my mind. We're going on a road trip. We're going on a road trip! ROAD TRIP!