Beaches, Bungalows, and Burglaries Read online

  The sun was shining and the backdrop of the Daniel Boone National Park made up for any ugly sign. I couldn’t wait to park this thing and plop down into a lawn chair next to the lake and let the bright sun warm my face. That’d make me feel a little better. I was sure of it.

  Pulling onto the grounds itself, I could see that there were plenty of trees for shade. There were storage units on the right like Stanley had said. The brochure did say that campers who were here an extended time were able to rent those, which probably brought in more income for me. There was a small building in front of the storage units with peeling letters on the glass door that read: OFFICE.

  “That just needs a little cleaning,” I said, stopping the RV in front of it before I wrote that on the list.

  A little further down was a community recreation room, exactly like the brochure had said, though it needed a good coat of paint, or a bulldozing down. Either way, it too had to be a minor detail.

  A detail that I didn’t think was so minor was the lush green Kentucky bluegrass that I’d read about and seen in the photos in the brochure that was in reality, brown and burnt looking.

  “Am I at the right place?” I questioned and picked up my phone to make sure the GPS had taken me to the right place. “I guess so.” I shrugged and wrote down that I might need to get some sod.

  Driving a little further, and around what was supposed to be the lake and Tiki bar, there were a cluster of run down cabins. When I looked at the brochure, those cl

  I brought the camper to an abrupt halt after I’d made the complete loop around the grounds. My jaw dropped. I picked up the brochure from the passenger seat and looked back and forth.

  “Nooooo.” I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I shoved the gear shift into PARK. The entire Happy Trails campground was nothing like the brochure.

  The Tiki bar consisted of two posts and a wood plank across them with a caved in roof, not the plush and vibrant bar with stools and little lights and people smiling. I gulped. My eyes slid across the lake and the beach. Again, I referred back to the brochure.

  The glass blue lake with the people hanging out on the dock with their toes dipped in and a smile on their face, a fruity drink next to them and lawn chairs along the beach was nowhere in sight. I was looking at a green film floating on top of a mucky brown piece of water with a small dock that had missing planks. There wasn’t a single lawn chair on the dry dirt.

  I looked up and around. In the distance and off a couple of different roads, there were concrete pads with some grass between them. Some of the lots were filled with campers and some were empty. According to the brochure, all the lots were filled with happy campers, twinkling lights, and smiling people. Where were my people? I gulped. Where were the crazy designed twinkly lights people hung outside of their campers? My heart dropped into my gut. I should’ve known this wasn’t going to pan out and Paul screwed me again.

  Just as I was about to jerk the gear shift into drive and get out of dodge, someone banged on the RV door.

  Knock! Knock!

  My nerves were shot. I fumbled to unbuckle the seatbelt, hopped over the console into the living part of the camper and pushed the door open.

  “What do you want?” The voice was hidden by a puff of smoke.

  “You almost gave me a heart attack on top of the one I’m currently having!” I yelled, trying to see through the smoke.

  There was a fairly older woman standing about five foot nine with pink foam curlers clipped all over her red hair. Her green satin pajamas matched her fuzzy slippers.

  “I’m Dottie Swaggert. What’ll I do you for?” She asked and took a long slow drag from the cigarette in her right hand, while her left hand rested on her jutted-out hip.

  “Is this Happy Trails Campground?” I asked.

  The sun beat down on me when I stepped out of the camper.

  “Mmmhmmm.” She drew in a big breath. The coals at the end of her cig light up bright red like her hair color as she sucked in. “One and only.” She stared at me from behind a puff of smoke.

  “In Normal, Kentucky?” I fanned my hand in front of me so she didn’t her smoke in my face or my house on wheels.

  “Mmhhhh. One and only.” She chomped on a piece of gum and smoked at the same time. She put her fingers with her cig stuck between them up to her temple. She closed her eyes. “Let me think.” She tapped her head. “You must be Mae West.”

  “Oh gosh.” My stomach knotted. My go-get ‘em attitude was wavering. I reached over the back of the passenger seat and grabbed the brochure. “Where is this Happy Trails?” I shook the brochure at her.

  “Honey, you look as confused as a cow on Astroturf,” she cackled.

  “What?” I questioned. “What does a cow and Astroturf have to do with anything?”

  “They are gonna eat you alive,” she said in a smug delight. “Paradise awaits.” Dottie’s lip cocked up on the right side as she smacked her gum and swept her hands out in front of her. “It’s all yours.”

  She turned around and laughed like a mad woman on her way to a small trailer that didn’t have a way to drive. It looked like it was just plopped down and the trailer hook up was casually resting on two cinderblocks.

  “Dottie! Wait!” I hollered, kicking dust up under my feet as I chased her. “This isn’t right. This isn’t what the brochure shows.”

  I let the part about being eaten alive just wash over me. Dottie Swaggert was someone I needed at this moment and fussing with her wouldn’t do me any good.

  “Honey, that brochure was printed well over twenty years ago when it was booming around here. The National Park is still going strong and when tourists come to town, they take one look at Happy Trails and high-tail it on out of Normal, finding a campground in another town.” She dropped her cigarette on the ground and used the toe of her shoe to snuff it out. She turned back around, walking to the camper.

  “Where’s the Kentucky Bluegrass? We are in Kentucky.” I looked around with the brochure in my grips and hurried towards her. When I was a kid growing up in Kentucky, I never paid attention to the grass, I just wanted to get out of there. “Shouldn’t there be the famous Bluegrass?”

  “What we got here is fine Kentucky dirt.” She bent down and picked up a handful of the driest soil. “We like to sprinkle it around like fairy dust and make wishes.” She threw it in the air, letting out a big cackle.

  “You’re teasing me, right?” I wasn’t sure how to take Dottie.

  “You are a city girl,” she said to herself like she was confirming her immediate perception of me. She continued in a fast-paced walk towards her camper.

  “We can fix it back up in a couple of weeks.” I waved the brochure in the air, running after her, feeling somewhat helpless.

  “Listen here, Mae West.” She turned to face me stopping shy of her metal door. “You don’t look like Mae West from the wild west.”

  “Mae is a family name and West is my married name.” If I had a dollar for everyone who’d said that to me in the last few years, I’d not be standing in a rundown campground hoping to make a living, which was obviously on hold.

  “May I call you Mae?” she asked. I nodded. “There’s a lot more things around here to fix than making it all prettied up like that there brochure.” She grabbed it from me and flipped it over, pointing out the copyright date from decades before. “We need to fix the washer and dryers, vending machine, clean up the lake and did you see the dock?”

  “I have all the financial statements.” I bit my lip, my brows furrowed. “All the reports show that the campground is doing good.”

  That obviously wasn’t the case.

  “Mae, I figure you to be a smart girl. After what happened to you, I’d think you know that sometimes things that are on paper aren’t as they really appear.” She was talking about Paul and his scheme. “Here.” She pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. “She’s all yours. I’ve been dying to get out of this place. Plus, you had some things shipped here. I put them in th
e storage building over there. Number four.”

  “What are these?” My heart beat rapidly and my palms sweat. “Dottie?”

  She patted her dirty old camper.

  “Them there are the keys to all the locks on the out building and storage units.” She gestured to them. “That sweet husband of yours didn’t pay me the last couple of years. He said that I could live in this junker for free. I’m happy to give you the keys and make you in charge.” She opened the door. “I’ll only be a second to grab my underwear and you can move right on in.”

  She re-opened the door and went inside.

  “Wait. No. That’s not what I mean.” My mouth dried because all my saliva had apparently flooded my eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. I hate you Paul West!”

  I dropped to the ground, not worried if I’d fallen into one of Dottie’s cigarettes or whatever else was on the dirt ground, but I’d had enough. I was broken, and nothing was going to fix me. I buried my head in my hands and sobbed.

  “Did you say you hate Paul West?” She popped her head out the door.

  “Yes. I hate him. I hate this place.” I sobbed.

  “Well, you just might fit right on in here after all. We all hate Paul West around here.” Dottie held the door opened and waved me in. “You know he’s a liar.”

  “Oh, I’m aware. Look at me.” I pointed to my curls that’d gotten worse since I stepped out of the RV. The humidity wasn’t doing me any favors. “I’m so overdue for a highlight and look at my nails.” I wiggled them in front of my face and showed her the chipped up mess that was at least two-weeks over due.

  “I’ve got someone that can fix you right up.” She picked up a strand of my hair. “This is the least of your problems. Coffee?”

  “Yes. That’d be grea..” I nodded. The door slammed shut, making me jump.

  “Get on in here.” She held the camper screen door open.

  “Do you live here?” I asked and looked around as I took seat at one of the kitchen chairs.

  The inside was what I’d expected to see. Fun pineapple party lights strung up all over back of the couch along the back wall. The kitchen flowed from there. She had a small café table and the two chairs, right across from the kitchenette where she was filling up two white coffee cups.

  She sat a cup in front of me.

  “Creamer? Sugar?” She asked.

  “No. This is good.” I brought the cup up to my mouth and took a sip, feeling an instant relief. “I really like your camper.”

  “There’s more to Dottie than meets the eye.” She referred to herself in third person and made me smile. “Looky there, you’re smiling. Now if you put on some lipstick, you’d be downright pretty and find you a man to take care you and your problems here, Mae West.”

  She fiddled in one of the cabinets, snapped a paper towel off the roll and put the fingernail polish remover on the table.

  “That’s the last thing I need.” I took another sip. “I’ve got to figure out how to get this place looking presentable because my lawyer is looking for a buyer. No one in their right mind is going to buy this dump.”

  “No one in their right minds parks their RV in this dump,” she read my mind.

  “Cheers.” We knocked cups and laughed. We talked while I took the chipped polish off my nails.

  “Well, we got Henry down the road. He’s down yonder in the fifth wheel camper and he’s the handy man. Literally, he only maintains what we’ve got here. I’ve tried to get ahold your husband, but he’d never return our calls. I’d gotten a lawyer if we had money, but we don’t got nothin’ but a roof over our heads.” She got up from the chair and grabbed the carafe, refilling our mugs. “I’m all ears if you’ve got ideas, but I guess you’re gonna make me pay rent now that you’re here.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I need you Dottie Swaggert and I’m new to all this. I need you Dottie,” I said again so I could get my point across.

  There was no reason to even bring up my past life. That was far behind me now. So was Paul West. I was going to just keep my chin up and get this place cleaned up, even if I had to do it myself. I looked down at the brochure I’d put down on the kitchen table. If it was the last thing I ever did on this earth and it killed me, I was going to make this place look just like the brochure and I had a few weeks to do it. I needed all the help I could get.

  “Just what are you thinking?” she eyeballed me.

  “You said something about a National Park. Tell me about it.” I knew that families were big on traveling in campers during the warmer months.

  “Mae West, you’re smack dab in the middle of the Daniel Boone National State Park. We’ve got two big lakes in this park along with lots of biking, hiking, camping, horseback riding and zip lining,” she boasted. “In the day, Happy Trails was booked for months and even had a waiting lists. Then one thing broke after the other and Paul West never fixed it.”

  “You’re telling me that Daniel Boone National State Park is something people come to see?” I asked. She nodded. “And that this is seasonal?”

  “The state park is open all year around. Normal is a charming city that visitors love to come and check out the little shops, but not so much Happy Trails.”

  “Dottie, me and you are going to change that.” I brought the cup up to my lips and stared through the steam as the wheels in my head started to turn and the dollars in profit started to add up.

  I might be able to sell this thing quicker than I’d anticipated once I got it cleaned up and tourists back in here.

  THREE

  If only Happy Trails was as charming as the town of Normal, itself, I’d be in the selling business. There were parallel roads going down Main Street, one way each. In the middle of the two lanes was a median with a combination of grass and stepping stones. There were picnic tables among the large oak trees on each side of an amphitheater and covered seating area. Thick white pillars you’d see on the front porch of a plantation home held up the structure. Each post had a real gas lantern hanging off of them. Large ferns toppled over several ceramic planters. There were twinkling lights around each pole, giving it such a romantic feel.

  There were little shops that ran along each side of Main Street. They ranged from the Smelly Dog, which was a pet groomer, Normal Diner, as well as the Tough Nickel Thrift Shop and Deters Feed-N-Seed, along with more boutique type shops that I couldn’t wait to check out. The display windows of each shop even had visions of family camping and summers in Normal.

  The shops were free standing cottage style homes with a small courtyard between them.

  The sidewalk was filled with people milling around, which means that there were people in the town and possibility customers for the campground. My mind was swirling with marketing ideas I had no idea I’d had. Downtown Normal seemed to cater to campers.

  I pulled the RV into a parking lot that was clearly marked for campers. Dottie Swaggert had told me there was a laundry mat in town after I’d asked her where the residents of the campground did their laundry since I had a few pieces of clothing that needed to be cleaned. Stanley had mentioned he sent my boxes of things to the campground and those were filled with my clothes. Those were clothes that I probably wouldn’t be wearing in Normal, so I picked up a few T-shirts at the rest stops along the way and those were in desperate need of cleaning.

  When Dottie told me the washer and dryers at the campground were all broken, I ended up moving the sign down to number three on the to-do list and moving the repairs to the laundry machines up to number one.

  The Laundry Club laundry mat was short walk from the parking lot, which was a smart business plan. It allowed campers to park and do some washing. I pushed the door open of the laundry mat and flung the pillow case full of the clothes I’d salvaged on my own plus the tees I’d picked up along the way, over my shoulder.

  “That one in the far-right corner in the back is the best ones.” There was a woman sitting at a card table right as you walked into the door.

 
Her short blonde hair was held back with a headband that matched her hot pink body suit, purple leg warmers, and bright white shoes. She tapped the glass globe on one of those plasma spheres that looked like electricity was running to your finger that was so popular a few years ago. She had a lazy laughter in her eyes.

  Her dark eyes circled around my body.

  “Thanks,” I muttered and headed into the direction of her pointing.

  “Don’t pay Queenie much attention. She lied.” Another woman stood up from a leather chair, which I found sort of odd in a laundry mat. She held a book in her hand. She appeared to be in her late twenties, if I had to guess. She had her brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. “I’m Abby Fawn, Normal County Public Library Librarian and part-time Tupperware sales associate.”

  “I’m Mae West,” I stuck my hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Mae West, huh?” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. She said as she typed, “Hashtag Mae West is in hashtag Normal, Kentucky. Is this hashtag normal?”

  “What are you doing?” I tried to see over the top of her phone to see what she was typing. Was she one of those people who was going to inform the news that I was now in Normal? They’d been trying to score an interview with me since the FBI raid.

  “I used social media to get the word out about things happening in Normal since tourism has been down. You don’t hear about Mae West coming around here much,” there was some sarcasm in her voice.

  Queenie let out a fit of laugher. “Mae West, I’m Queenie French. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

  My hand was still stuck out in front of me to shake Abby’s hand.

  As if in slow motion, Abby took a step into my personal space and her arms began to open really wide, curling them around me and pulling me towards her in a bear hug. My face flattened against her shoulder, my arms plastered to my side.

  “Honey, we don’t shake here. We hug.” She squeezed extra hard. “That means you hug me back.”