Off the path

The only thing that excites Couponman more than a discount is freebies.  He skips meals before shopping at Costco or getting his oil changed at the dealership just so he can fill up on free samples.  On Interstate 15 during the long drive home, I suggested we stop in Beaver, Utah, at the Cache Valley Cheese factory.  His eyes lit up.  Factory tours are synonymous with samples.  “Wow,” he said.  “That would make my whole trip.”  (He’s easy.  I am not.)

We stuck toothpicks into little squares of cheese and curd until we could hold no more.  We sampled ice cream manufactured from the factory’s own cream.  (So much for the four straight days at the gym.) 

Free samples are deceiving.  We walked out with bags of cheese, spending our grandkids’ inheritance.

Because cheese isn’t filling enough (ha, ha), we stopped for lunch at a local mom and pop truck stop.  On the table sat a small A-frame promotion for the local gift shop.  “Present your restaurant receipt and receive a free floating candle,” it said.  Couponman had to do it.  It would be like me not eating the last bite of pie he leaves on his plate.

Three doors down from the sport shop doubling as a pawn shop, across the street from the bakery and bridal shop, again under one roof, we found Surewood Forrest.  We strolled in, and entered a magical world, atypical of Beaver, Utah.  Water trickled over rocks.  Colorful polished stones and other trinkets lined the stones framing the pond.  Flavorful incense permeated the air.  Open shelving artistically carved from logs, overhung by foliage, displayed a wide variety of candles, bric-a-brac, and other medieval relics. I passed under an arch and entered Merlin’s cave.  Hand-crafted candles responding to black lights glowed.

“Can I help you find anything,” an attractive woman asked.  She had a British accent.  “My name is Stevi.  Like Stevie Wonder.”

“How’d you ever end up in Beaver?” I asked.  If you are not familiar with Beaver, it’s a teeny-tiny town north of Cedar City, too small to really be a city.  Beaver just recently got its first traffic signal.  More cows than people call Beaver home.

“It’s pretty,” she answered.  “And cold.  I used to dance in Las Vegas.  Then we settled here.”

“Did you dance with anyone famous?”

“In France,” and then she named some people I’d not heard of. 

“Who’s the best dancer, Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly?” Couponman asked.

“Gene Kelly’s mean,” she said with a scowl on her face.  “He blamed his valet when he tripped during a dance, and threw his shoe at him.”  Maybe I’d have to take Singing in the Rain off my favorites list.  “I danced at the Dune’s Hotel when Cary Grant was part owner of the casino.”  She held up a photo of her and the handsome actor.

“Was he mean, too?” I hesitated.  I almost didn’t want to know.

“No, he was wonderful.  But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.  He was too good looking for it to have mattered.”  We both laughed.

We chatted about old movies, old dancers, and old Las Vegas, when people wore evening dresses, and nylons and heels (and not just the guys) to see the entertainment at the casinos.  Ann-Margaret was a gem, she told us.  She could meet you once, and know your name forever. 

We picked out our free floating fish candle for the Mouse.  He loves fish and can mimic them.  Magically, the only other stuffed animals she had were kittens and penguins.  Those are the Worm’s and Bug’s favorite animals.  “It’s a sign,” I said to Couponman.  “We’ve got to buy them for the grandkids.”  Cream to smooth rough feet, a photo frame hanging from a fishing rod (it really is cuter than it sounds), vanilla scented oil, a scented candle all made their way into our shopping bag with the little animals our grandchildren could not live without.

She rang up the items and tucked a discount coupon in the bag.  “This entitles you to 10% off at the local cheese factory.”  Day late, and a dollar short.  Or in our case, hour late, and four dollars short.

Okay, so you’re thinking free isn’t really free.  We had walked in with coupon in hand, exchanged home phone numbers, and left knowing we’d made a new friend.  And that you can’t buy.

Epilogue:

“We bought you a surprise,” I said over speaker phone on the way home. 

“Oh, boy,” said the Worm.  “Maybe you could bring it to me tomorrow.”

“What’s do you have for us?” Couponman interjected.

“Well, I really missed you,” she said honestly.

That, you can’t buy either.

Related posts:

1. I’m old enough to be thankful
2. Tacky & sappy but merry wishes to you all
3. Serenity Park
4. Encores and firsts
5. Back at the ranch