Author's Note
: The following is part of a series of three stories I plan on writing about the three luscious females in the hit comic series, 'Archies.' If you are offended by the fantasy, please remember that magic word called 'tolerance', and ignore it/them. I mean no harm to the characters or the comics, and write this only for pleasure, not profit.
**
"Finally," Veronica Lodge panted as they approached their destination. "Our summer cottage never looked more inviting!"
Hiram Lodge, her father, grinned at the tired eighteen-year old. His white hair disguised his years, making him appear older than he actually was, but that was an advantage when it came to his day-to-day life of dealing with companies run by blue-bloods. He was one himself, but that, and he was proud of the fact, did not make him put on airs... Except when it came to that freckle-faced boyfriend of hers, but he was actually starting to like the clumsy guy.
"Now you see, Ronnie dear, why I insisted that we hike all the way here... instead of coming here by car. It's only when you labor that the benefits become tangible."
Ronnie smiled at her father. "My father - the philosophical guru!"
Hiram threw a light punch at her, and it slightly grazed her shoulder. "Frankly, I am surprised you did not want to bring your friends along. Had any fight?"
"No, of course not. Just wanted to spend some quality time with my aging father - anything wrong with that?"
"Nothing, except the use of the word aging - I am not that old, for your information - just forty three next June."
She ruffled his hair, the whiteness reflecting the sunlight of the afternoon. "Funny. This white brush says you are lying."
"If you must know, young men in my family have white hair - it's a genetic trait."
"Yeah, sure!"
The two of them laughed together, the easiness coming comfortably in spite of the fact that this was their first time together in ten years. They had reached the patio of the cottage, modest by wealthy standards, but in its simplicity itself was a homeliness he found engaging. The wooden platform ran along the perimeter of the house, extending as a pier-cum-tea-table in the back of the house. In the quiet afternoon, they could hear the water lapping gently against the wooden stalks that supported the platform.
Ronnie surveyed the scenery as her father fished around for the keys. She couldn't remember the last time she had visited this place; she had always known about it, but never really had the chance to spend a few days here. As her father had said, her previous vacations had been at well-known resorts, the resulting crowd itself an aberration to the natural beauty that was hidden from everyone.
There was a small clearing around the house, the harmless woods extending behind them for over five miles before bordering a quiet little town where Lodge had a resort lodge that catered for an entirely different part of the lake. Ronnie was instantly taken in by the virgin beauty of the place; the green serenity was quite a welcome change from the harsh townliness of Riverdale.
"Here you are, Mademoiselle," Hiram announced with a flourish as he threw the door open. "Your palace awaits you."
"Oh, Daddy," she cooed as she entered the tastefully decorated living room. "It's beautiful."
"Glad you like it," her father replied, carrying the luggage to a room on the right which, judging by the double bed, was the master bedroom. "I built it myself."
"No kidding," she said, awed.
"The basic structure, at least," he amended, but the pride in his voice was still evident. "The roofing and the patio I had them done professionally. Here, let me show you around."
Ronnie followed her father all over the house as he gave her a tour of the place, pointing out the common bath with a door on the other side that led to her bedroom. There was a small kitchen, more as a standby, he explained, in the case of wet weather than as a utility room. "With weather like this, we can always cook outside."
The outside was at least as good as the inside. At the back, a low pier extended into the shallow water, the water enticingly blue and calm. At the landed end of the pier, there was a small tea-table, with a couple of balcony chairs and a rocking-chair around it. The door beside it led into the house through the kitchen, well-equipped with a fridge and a gas stove.
What Ronnie really liked was the badminton court that had been created by the side of the cottage. Even in Lodge's absence, it was clearly well-taken care of, and she was glad it was - she could guess how proud her father was that he owned the place.
"How about a game, dear?" Hiram asked, noticing her obvious interest in his mini-court. Of all the things at his cottage, the court was his pride and joy - and he was glad Ronnie liked it. As he gazed lovingly at her, waiting for her answer, he realized how much he had missed being one-on-one with her; she had grown up right under his watch, and he hadn't noticed it until it was almost too late. With her possibly heading off to college the next spring, Hiram knew this was probably the last picnic alone for father and daughter.
"Sounds good," Ronnie said excitedly. "But what about the gear?"
"I always keep a stash in the loft - bats, net, feathers - and even a bullhorn for the ref."
"Let's take a raincheck on the ref," she gave her father a bear hug. "Why don't you bring down the stuff while I change into something more comfortable?" She gave him a quick, daughterly peck on the lips, and rushed off before he could say anything.
