Picture Perfect by Fern Michaels Page B

Massachusetts with an Air Stream trailer, and a New Jersey couple with a pop-up trailer.
    The RV slid into a deep rut and bounced out. Davey struggled to hang onto Duffy. “Aunt Lorrie, I have to go to the bathroom.”
    Lorrie grinned. “Hang on till we’re parked, Davey. I don’t want you walking around in the motor home while I’m driving.”
    â€œI can’t wait to get out and see everything. Right, Duffy?” Exactly on cue, the terrier woofed.
    Lorrie passed a garishly decorated pickup truck with a pop-up trailer parked in a grove of trees and knew she was heading in the right direction. “Our site must be just around the bend and to the right,” she said, more for her own benefit than Davey’s.
    Davey turned to look out the long side window. He rubbed at his eyes and stared at the pickup. It looked like the one he’d seen on the turnpike. His thoughts were diverted when Lorrie deftly maneuvered the RV into the assigned slot. As soon as they stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and headed for the bathroom.
    Stepping down out of the RV, Lorrie stretched luxuriously. Davey joined her seconds later, zipping his jeans. “Is it okay if Duffy and I take a walk?”
    Tousling his blond head, Lorrie was once again taken with her nephew’s grammar. Sara’s influence, no doubt. Most of the kids who came into Lorrie’s office would have said, “Duffy and me.” “Sure,” she said, “but first let’s set down the rules. Look at your watch. The big hand should be on the nine and the little hand almost on the five. What time is that?”
    â€œIt’s fifteen minutes before five o’clock,” Davey said proudly.
    â€œRight. Now, when the big hand is on the three, I want you back here. And you must stay within earshot. Do you know what that means?”
    â€œThat means you have to hear me if I call, or I have to hear you. Right?”
    â€œRight again. Now, Davey, what time do you have to be back here?” she questioned, just to make sure he understood.
    â€œFifteen minutes after five,” he said.
    â€œDon’t let Duffy wander off, and if she does, call her, don’t chase after her or you could end up getting lost.”
    â€œAw, you shouldn’t worry, Aunt Lorrie, Mr. Sanders gave me a real Boy Scout flashlight and money for a phone call. See!” He rummaged in his jeans pocket for his two gifts.
    â€œAnd I’m impressed.” Not for the world would she tell Davey there were no phones attached to the trees. And as far as the little penlight went, he’d be lucky if he could see his hand in the dark with it. “I think you can make it. Remember, big hand on the three.”
    He started to leave then winced.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Lorrie asked, concern drawing her brows together as she noticed the pained expression on the little boy’s face.
    â€œIt’s . . . my leg brace—I must have it strapped too tight or something. Dad knows how to fix it.” A shadow slipped over Davey’s face, and Lorrie knew he was suddenly anxious about being separated from his parents for the first time.
    â€œLet’s have a look. Maybe I can help.”
    Davey lifted his pant leg. Hunkering down to inspect the brace, Lorrie grimaced when she saw how the leather straps were cutting into the fragile flesh of his calf. “No wonder. Your sock slipped down. How long has this been irritating you, Davey?” From the abrasion on his leg and the look on his face, Lorrie knew it must have been bothering him for some time. “Oh honey, this was hurting you at the zoo, wasn’t it? And you didn’t say anything. Why?”
    â€œMom and Dad told me not to cause any trouble.”
    â€œDavey, you’re the best kind of trouble I could ever have. I love you, don’t you know that? There’s no way you could be any trouble to me. Now, sit up here on the step so I can fix