Camilla had the reputation of being hard to please. Being the most bewitching and alluring female in town, she had no shortage of suitors. It didn't help that she was free of guile and cunning. All she had to do was to turn her soft, dewy doe eyes onto a man, and he became consumed with the desire to have her completely. But she was always vague and noncommital, while being perfectly sweet at the same time.

Tom became a drunk while waiting for her to answer his proposal, which he made on bended knee. It had been 2-1/4 years so far, and he called her once a month to check on the status. She never seemed to remember who he was. Rich followed her everywhere and went so far as to lie behind her car before she backed out of the space in order to get her attention. He was rushed to the hospital with three broken ribs, a sprained knee and a concussion for his trouble. Harold went the romantic route, sending her ros es and jewelry punctually every week. After one such delivery, he hid behind her neighbors' trash bins to see what she did with his gifts. She came out wearing a thick quilted robe, strolled to the house next door and knocked on the kitchen door.

"Mrs. Krantz," she called out, "Here's some more roses for you!" Harold emerged livid. "How dare you give my presents away!" he shouted.

"Oh, were you the one sending them?," Camilla said. "Why didn't you write your name on the card?"

"I was trying to be romantic and mysterious! I thought all girls liked that."

"Oh. But they make Mrs. Krantz so happy," Camilla said. "Why don't you send her flowers? She needs the cheer more than I do."

"What about the jewelry? What happened to the jewelry I sent you!"

"I donated them to the white elephant sale at St. Matthew's," she said. "Father Ryan was very pleased."

Christ! What a colossal waste of money," he muttered.

So Camilla continued to befuddle all the men in her periphery. No one had an inkling of how to win her heart. Despite their constant failures, they couldn't stop trying. Even an absent-minded smile from her refueled their hopes of victory for another six months.

As it happens in roadside towns every so often, a stranger on his way to the West Coast stopped off at the Sleep Tight Motor Inn. His name was Riley Carmichael, and he was a youth in search of himself. He was well-groomed in a careless way, and he was not hing the town's citizens had ever encountered. For one thing, he was the only male in town that day who didn't know who Camilla was and was therefore untouched by her insouciance.

While the other men were plotting on getting rid of one another in order to clear a path to sure success, young Riley was walking into the diner and ordering ham and eggs sunny side up. Camilla, who was in there waiting for an order of pancakes with extra butter and syrup to go, noticed his entrance and walked over to be friendly. "What are you doing here?" she asked, pulling lint balls off her sweater.

"Just passing through. I'm going to San Francisco."

"Oooh, I hear that's a nice city."

"Yep. I'm looking for work."

"Why, if that's what you need, there's plenty of work here!"

Riley smiled. "Sure, but I'd rather live in a big city. I wouldn't be happy living here. Not to sound offensive or anything, but there's nothing to do here."

Camilla frowned. "I guess it's hard if you grew up in a big city. Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't. I'm from New York."

"Well, aren't you the city slicker."

"Not really," Riley laughed.

She gave him her look, the look which made all the local men fall clumsily to her feet. He merely took note that she had pretty brown eyes.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked, confused. "Nah, I don't want to deal with relationships now," he said, buttering his toast. "Life's too big of an adventure. Besides, I just broke up with someone not too long ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's OK. She was getting on my nerves. All she wanted to do was what she wanted to do, you know what I mean?"

"I think so."

"She was selfish and not giving and it's good that I'm not with her anymore. I feel so free. Nothing like it in the world."

"I suppose so."

He chewed thoughtfully, then leaned over. "So what's your story, Camilla? How can you live in such a small town as this?"

"This is my home," she said reproachfully. "My family's been here for 100 years."

"Wow. So your roots go way back here. But don't you ever want to explore what's outside?"

She stared ruefully at his chipped coffee cup. "I never saw any reason to."

"Aw, you gotta," he said, shaking his head. "You gotta see what's out there so you can appreciate what you have here. Why don't you come out to California with me? You can see what it's like, then come back here in a couple of months if you want. What do you think?"

Camilla felt an alien emotion well up in her. She was being offered a chance to look further down the highway instead of watching cars go by from her bedroom window. She broke out into a smile that she tried hard to supress. She didn't think it ladylike to show that much pleasure to a stranger. "If you don't mind, I would love to. I have some money saved up."

"Say no more," Riley said, taking a swig of his coffee. "Get your things straightened out. I'm planning to leave in a couple of hours."

Camilla's parents weren't home, so Camilla wrote them a contrite, little note saying that she was going out of town to hide from the affections of her men and that she'd call daily to reassure them of her safety. Then she folded some of her nicer clothes and stuffed them in a duffel bag and met Riley at the Sleep Tight Motor Inn.

That was the story Tom, Rich and Harold got from Camilla's parents.

"Why didn't you send the sheriff out?" Harold demanded. "Oh, she'll be back," Camilla's mother said placidly. She didn't like Harold and his yelling and had no intention of letting him discover Camilla's whereabouts. Besides, she and Father trusted their darling completely. She had never given them cause for alarm, and Father did t hink Camilla's plan was a good one. Better to let her disappear for a while and let the furor die down. Perhaps by then all three of the most persistent ones and the others would lose interest and find new women to woo. Then Father might finally put away the shotgun he'd been sleeping with for the past four years.

Tom had heard the news of Camilla's departure from his aunt, and he immediately went to the bar for a drink. He found Rich, still in a cast, and Harold glumly drinking at a table. After they exchanged wary greetings, Rich thumped the floor with his cane, nearly sloshing beer out of the mugs, and said, "Why don't we take off after them? They couldn't have gotten far. It's only been half a day. We gotta get her back. She doesn't know what's going to happen to her."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Tom asked.

"I mean, that guy might be crazy. I mean, he might rape her and kill her and leave her head on a stick."

"Shut up, Rich," Harold growled.

"I'm being serious. It happens all the time. Don't you watch the news? Good God, don't you care about her? I'm going to go after her myself then."

"You won't be able to save her gimping around like that," Harold pointed out.

"At least I'm trying, not like you guys. You know where to find me if you want in," Rich said as he stiffly made his way out.

Tom looked blearily at Harold. "What do you think? Do you think it's worth it?"

Harold groaned. "Damn. Let's go. I don't want that jerk to get her and then she'll be so grateful that he'll have her all to himself."

"I didn't even think of that," Tom said in wonder.

Meanwhile, Camilla and Riley were playing an alphabet game. "I went to the zoo," Camilla said, "and in the zoo I saw an aardvark, a bear, a crane, a dinosaur, an elephant, a frog, a gazelle, a horse, an ibis... Riley, what's an ibis?"

"It's a kind of bird that the ancient Egyptians worshipped as a form of a god, I forget which."

"You're not making this up, are you?"

"No, why would I be?"

"Because whenever people want to lie about something, they bring up the ancient Egyptians."

"No, they don't. Where did you get that idea?"

"Like mummies that come to life and kill people. They say that the ancient Egyptians were the ones who made mummies. I've never heard of a single incident where someone was killed by a mummy. It's only in movies."

"You are amazing. You're such a...."

"What?"

Riley bit his lip, then smiled. "I don't know. You're different all right. Is this what happens if you don't grow up in a city?"

"I don't know. Is that bad?"

"No, I don't think so. I kinda like it. You're nothing I've ever seen."

"Does that mean you're in love with me?"

Riley choked as he tried not to burst out laughing. "I can't believe you said that. Of course not! I just think you're a breath of fresh air. Besides, we've known each other for less than a day. Don't you think it's early to determine that?"

"Oh, I guess," Camilla said, disappointed. "It's just that the guys back home said it's always love at first sight. Are they lying then?"

"No, not necessarily. I don't believe in it, that's all."

Camilla experienced a small shift in her thinking, and the result was that she was in love with Riley. She had placed her faith in him that he would make sense of her life, and the blow of his comments cooled her ardor only slightly. It was so fun driving down the highway in the darkening light with him. He was nice. Maybe he needed some more time. He was different after all. He didn't know how things were supposed to work.

Harold, Tom and Rich rented a minivan and took off as the sun set. "I don't think we'll catch up with them. They got a big head start," Tom said.

"They have to stop sometime," Harold said. "Here's what we'll do. I'm driving, right, and you guys can sleep. Then when I get tired, one of you can drive. That's why I got this minivan. We'll take turns. We'll get them in no time."

"That's a great plan," Tom said, admiringly.

"What if they do the same thing?" Rich asked, skeptically.

"Impossible," Harold said smugly. "That jerk had manual transmission. Camilla doesn't know how to drive, and even if she did, she would never figure out how to shift in such a short time."

"All right then," Rich said.

"Marlee at the Sleep Tight said he had a red Jetta," Tom said.

"Perfect! They'll be easy to spot," Harold said.

Riley thought about death a lot. He wanted to come up with an end-all theory that would put his doubts at ease. In fact, he was in the process of creating a religion that would work in the modern world. In his religion notebook, he kept a running list of tenets ranging from dietary needs (all organic, no preservatives) to absolute sins (cruelty, idiocy, intolerance, all punishable by humiliation and destruction of the ego, to be built up again by the Church of Riley).

He was itching to start preaching, but he figured he needed to work out all the details before unleashing the power of his sensible, rational religion. He had only the most sincere and innocent of desires. He had no interest in wielding power over a mass, nor did the lure of big money taint him. His only wish was to ensure the people of the world happiness, and he had the answers, he was sure.

He told Camilla about his religion, and she regarded him with mild bewilderment. "Do you think you can make everyone convert?" she asked.

"After they hear what I have to say, I don't see why not," he said confidently. "People are looking for simple answers, right, and they don't want to change how they are now. My religion will tell people they're OK, and what they're doing is OK. The only wrong thing is to do something without purpose or reason. In that case, we'll show them a purpose and reason. My religion celebrates life."

"I think you still need to work on it."

"That is true," Riley acknowledged. "I'm still young. I have time to work out the contradictions."

Camilla yawned. "Do you think we can stop somewhere for the night? I'm really sleepy."

"Sure thing. Keep your eyes open."

"Have you seen anything yet?" Tom asked. "I think we've lost them."

"No, and shut up already," Harold snapped. "Don't you remember they had a head start? Besides, there's not going to be anything for another 50 miles. Then we're at Jupiter. They had to have stopped there. It's almost midnight."

"What if they're not there?" Tom persisted. "Can we go home then?"

Rich turned around and cuffed him on the ear. Tom yelled in pain, making Harold jump and swerve the car. "Jesus! What the hell are you doing?" Harold screamed. "We almost went off the road!"

"I wanted him to shut up," Rich said. "So I hit him."

"I need a drink," Tom complained. "My ear hurts. I think it's bleeding internally. I'm gonna sue you if I become deaf."

"You won't become deaf. Now shut up before I pop you in the mouth one," Rich threatened. "

You could say you're sorry at least," Tom said.

"I'm not sorry."

"Then I won't shut up. In fact," Tom grabbed Rich's hair and yanked so hard that everyone heard something crack, "you better apologize before I kill you."

"Oww! Jesus! All right, I'm sorry. Just let go."

Tom released Rich, and Rich rubbed the back of his neck. Harold shook his head. "I can't believe I'm here with you two losers. No wonder Camilla likes me best."

The argument over whom Camilla liked best took the trio all the way to Jupiter.

"Well, do you see the car?" Harold demanded.

"Drive slower," Rich said. "Maybe that's it."

The car in question was indeed Riley's. It was parked in front of a large house that seemed to be the local rustic hotel.

"I can't believe our luck," Harold gloated. "Let's go get them."

They crept toward the house. "Should we ring the doorbell?" Tom asked.

"Are you kidding? We don't want to wake up everyone and draw suspicion to ourselves! Let's see if the kitchen door's open," Harold said.

The kitchen door was hooked from the inside, and they were able lift the hook by using Rich's cane. Tom flicked on the lights. The kitchen was clean and uncluttered, and no dogs were present, much to their relief.

"Now where do we go?" Rich asked.

Harold pointed at the hallway. "This looks like it leads to the rooms. Let's go."

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TRESPASSING ON MY PROPERTY?," a loud voice boomed.

They turned around and saw a woman pointing a shotgun at Harold's head. She had the tough, lean look of a Doberman. "Ma'am, we were hungry and were looking for something to eat," Harold began.

"Ha! Don't try to fool me, you. You knew this was a kitchen and you didn't even open any of the cupboards. You were looking to rob me, that's what you were doing! Get out of here before I shoot you all."

"Is this a hotel? Is there a girl named Camilla here?" Tom asked plaintively.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "What do you think this is, a whorehouse? There are no girls here for the likes of you. Now get out."

"We have reason to believe she's been kidnapped by a low-life, ma'am," Harold said. "We're just aiming to rescue her and punish the perpetrator."

"What do you think you are, a posse? I never heard such nonsense in my life!" The woman started poking at Harold's ribs. "I'm not above shooting you for breaking into my house. My husband's the sheriff here. I highly advise you to get out before I shoot e ach of you in the kneecaps."

The three skulked out and mutely got into the minivan. Harold was livid. "Now I know they're in there! He paid off that woman to protect them! I say we stake out the house and wait for them to come out."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Tom said doubtfully. "I think the lady's going to check to see if we're gone."

"Don't be stupid!" Harold said. "She can't do anything if we're not on her property!"

Tom opened the door. "If you're going to sit around here all night, I'm going into town to get a drink"

"You do that. You just go do that. Go ahead!" Harold said. "Don't be surprised if we're gone by the time you get back."

"See you later," Tom said, shambling away.

The next morning Camilla and Riley had breakfast with the hotel proprieter, Louisa Fetter, and her husband Louie. Louisa told them about the break-in, and Camilla told them about the men in question. Louisa patted Riley's and Camilla's hands. "You needn't worry. I told Louie to take them down to the jail last night. They were still parked out there, up to no good I'm sure."

"There were only two," Louie said with concern. "The third one's at large."

Camilla sighed. "That was naughty of them. I'm sorry they broke in."

Louisa laughed. "Don't worry, honey, they were sad examples of men. They couldn't stand up to me if they had the shotgun."

Camilla turned to Riley. "Do you think we should tell them it's OK for me to be traveling with you?"

Riley thought for a bit. "I suppose so. I guess they're just worried about your safety. We should put their fears to rest."

"Oh, that reminds me, I have to call Mother. Can I make a collect call?"

"Sure hon, there's a phone out in the hallway there," Louisa said.

Harold paced back and forth in the cell. Rich passed the time by tapping out rhythmic patterns with his cane.

"Can you PLEASE stop that!" Harold said through clenched teeth.

"Boy, that vein really pops outta your jaw when you're mad," Rich observed.

"I have never been tempted to murder anyone, but I swear to you that I will gladly kill that Riley when we get out," Harold fumed. "And where is that damn Tom when we need him?"

"Probably passed out on the street somewhere," said Rich enviously. "At least he had a good night."

In the meantime, Camilla and Riley found a passed-out Tom in front of the town's bar and put him in the car. After shaking him awake and giving him a couple cups of coffee, he was sufficiently awake to tell them what had transpired. After he finished, Ca milla took his hand and said, "It's awfully sweet of you all to chase after me, but Riley's all right. I only wanted to see what it was like somewhere else, then I was going to come back. I mean, what would my mother and father do without me? So you don't have to worry."

"In that case, I guess we can go home. I don't know where Rich and Harold are, though."

Riley looked embarrassed. "They're in jail. The sheriff put them there for loitering and trespassing. We'll have to get them. Thank God there's no bail."

"I hope they're not too mad," Camilla said. "Harold gets so upset when things don't go his way."

While Harold's rage did subside by the time Riley, Camilla and Tom got to the jail, neither he nor Rich were very grateful for their promptness in springing them. Explanations were handed around, and Harold grudgingly deemed it all right for Camilla to go to San Francisco with someone she had known for only two days. "We'll go home," he told Riley. "We won't follow you anymore. That girl is more trouble than she's worth. I hope this night in jail won't go on my permanent record. It could jeopardize my car eer."

While Harold and Rich were getting breakfast, Tom pulled Camilla aside. "Listen, Camilla, when you're ready to come home, I promise I'll meet you at the bus depot. I won't tell Harold either."

Camilla's eyes shone. "Why, thank you, Tom. I'll send you a postcard."

"That's true love right there," Riley said. "It's such a beautiful thing."

Tom blushed while Camilla said, "Do you think so, Riley?"

"It's defined in my holy book. I'll read it to you when we get to San Francisco. Come to think of it, I think I'll put you two in as a parable."

When Camilla returned from San Francisco, Tom was waiting for her at the bus depot. She smiled at him and cradled the flowers he gave her. "Oh, you're so terribly sweet, Tom."

"Aw, gee Camilla," he said, turning red. "Will you marry me? I love you, you know. I promise I won't drink anymore."

"Oh, Tom. Of course I'll marry you. I was just waiting to be sure," she said, putting her arms around him and kissing him tenderly.

The church that Riley founded grew steadily, and his religion became hot when he was profiled in Vanity Fair. He gained respect by refusing to go on TV. There was talk that maybe he should run for president one of these days. Riley thought about it occasi onally for fun.

Rich moved to Jupiter and got into horsebreeding. He never made any money but married a local girl and was happy nevertheless. They lived in contentment with their four children in a small clapboard house near Louisa Fetter's hotel.

Harold came to a bad end. He married a succession of girls who reminded him of Camilla, and they divorced him quickly when he acted up. After the fifth divorce, he ended up in a shack on his parents' property, growing bitter and eccentric before his time.