Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise (8 page)

At a quarter past six Lucky and I started down the street with the apple crumb covered with Saran Wrap. "I hope she likes apple crumb, Lucky. Maybe I should have brought the cherry also, just in case she likes cherries more."

Lucky barked and then moved in stride next to me. He looked proud and held his funny little head high, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he smiled.

"I hope it was Suzy on the phone," I said. "I mean, I don't know for certain. I'm just guessing it was Suzy."

We passed trailers and cars and I didn't see a soul. Not a single soul that evening. Cooking odors wafted around us, a mixture of frying onions and bacon.

I moved closer to the Wrinkel trailer and slowed my pace. I checked for the pickup truck and didn't see it and considered that a good sign.

"She said to meet her behind the trailer," I whispered.

Lucky scooted away from me and went near the trailer. He puffed around in some scraggly grass. He shot me a glance and then trotted behind the trailer. I stopped moving and sucked a deep breath.

"What if Fergus was waiting back there? What if he is upset about the team?"

I shook the thoughts from my brain. "It's a free country."

Lucky barked—not loud, more like a bluster, a grumble.

I reached the side of the trailer and stuck my head around. No one was there. Just underwear and dungarees flapping on the line.

Lucky joined me. I patted his head. "Suzy," I called but in a low voice, barely audible. "Suzy?" I raised it a little. "Suzy." I took more steps.

Nothing. Not a sound. "Guess she's not coming, Lucky."

He whimpered and we made our way to the front of the trailer, me still carrying a nine-inch apple crumb. I kept moving and headed toward home. Then I stopped, turned back, and set the pie in front of the trailer door. I gave a little rap and waited.

"Let's go home, boy. She's not answering her door."

I took a few steps and looked back in time to see the door open, a hand reach out and take the pie. A smile stretched across my face. "Apple crumb. No one can resist an apple crumb."

L
ucky kept so close to me he knocked my knees. "So she didn't come out. At least we tried."

Lucky whimpered.

"She did take the pie, though. Hope she gets to taste it. That nasty Fergus Wrinkel will probably snatch it right away from her and eat the whole blooming thing by himself."

Lucky barked his agreement.

"But then again. Maybe she'll get a slice before he comes home tonight."

With that thought in mind I headed up the hill that was Mango Street.

The sky began to darken now and a few stars had shown up for their nightly duties. I paused a moment and remembered what Rose had said about God naming all the stars and how he calls them out at night. "Quite a job. You'd think God would delegate some of those responsibilities."

But then again, I figured if I created all the stars in the sky I'd be a bit protective of them myself.

My foot no sooner landed on the wooden path to my trailer when I heard Rose's yoo-hoo from behind.

"Charlotte," she called. "Wait up a minute. Did you see Suzy?"

I stopped and spun around. "She never showed, Rose."

"Ah, too bad. But I kind of expected that. Asa is the only one I know that's been able to get Suzy to venture more than three feet away from that trailer. And then only for a minute or two before she runs back inside. Asa calls it a dang shame, says she's a pretty woman. Says she has a nice smile and a sweet disposition hiding under all that sadness."

I pushed open the door and Rose and I settled at the kitchen table, where the cherry pie sat on a cooling rack, even though it was plenty cool by now. She picked at the crust.

"Is she sick or something? Maybe she has cancer," I said."I hear folks with cancer can get awful depressed and she's so darn skinny. Maybe she should see Marlabeth."

"I don't think she's sick, Charlotte. This has been going on for quite some time."

My lips puckered when I chomped into a particularly sour cherry. "Every once in a while one gets through."

Rose's forehead wrinkled. "One what?"

"Sour cherry. I try to pick only the best-looking cherries, but sometimes I miss one or two and I just bit into a mighty sour one."

Rose chewed pie and looked thoughtful. "Well, I think something sour is going on in that trailer, something real sour, Charlotte. You saw her black eyes and all."

I swallowed. I didn't want to say out loud what I assumed Rose conjectured.

"You saying what I think you're saying, Rose?"

She pushed her fingers through her impossible hair. "Yeah. Sometimes, maybe on account of . . . you know, what happened to me, I get near her trailer and I get this feeling, could be the Holy Spirit, could be plain old intuition, but I get this feeling and then I get these flashbacks and, well, that's why I didn't go with you this afternoon. I try to avoid the Wrinkel trailer."

"The flashbacks?"

"Mm."

Rose and I sat silently for the next few minutes until she heaved a big sigh. "But you know what, Charlotte? I think your moving to Paradise is a sign or a signal or something. I think it's time to find out what's going on inside the Wrinkel trailer."

I didn't say anything right off. I mean, I couldn't just come right out and say, "Sure, Rose. Let's go pry into other people's business."

Rose scraped the last of the cherry filling from her plate. "I think he's sweet on her."

"Who? Who is sweet on who?"

"Asa. I think he has a kind of faraway crush on Suzy. I know he'd help us."

"But she's a married woman, Rose. You're not suggesting that Asa—"

"No, of course not, Charlotte. Asa would never do anything like that, but I think he suspects something is wrong and he cares about her is all. Cares a lot about her, you know. That's all I'm saying."

We talked for another few minutes until my eyes felt droopy and I didn't want to talk anymore about the subject. It was hard enough to think about, let alone discuss. And it made me think of Herman, and I didn't want to think about him that evening, so I made an excuse. "I'm getting tired, Rose. I think I'll read for a while, until I fall asleep."

"That's a good idea. We'll make a plan in the morning."

Morning arrived in a deluge of rain and rumbles of thunder. The sky was so dark it might as well have been nighttime. Buckets of rain fell hard, pelting my metal walls with such a ruckus that I couldn't sleep past six. It was the first real storm since I had moved to Paradise. Lucky cowered under the covers next to me.

"You big old chicken. It's only thunder."

But just as the words left my mouth, a crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning filled the room and about scared me to death. "Goodness gracious, Lucky. I think that storm is sitting right over top of Paradise. It's like a weather blitzkrieg with all that booming and lightning and crackles."

I patted him. "Sorry, boy. It is pretty scary. You just hide under there as long as you need."

I climbed out of bed, shrugged on my purple robe, and made my way to the kitchen. I was just about to plug in the percolator when BAM! Another rumble of thunder echoed through the park and all the lights went out in the trailer. I stood there a second holding the plug in my hand. Herman always said not to plug things in during an electrical storm. And here I was living inside a metal house. It might have knocked me all the way to Bermuda. Still I held onto the cord, feeling a trace of shock, looked to the ceiling, and said, "That's just fine and dandy, Lord. Couldn't wait until I had my coffee made to turn off the lights, now, could you?"

I plopped into a kitchen chair. Rainwater rushed down Mango Street like a creek. The drops fell large and heavy and splattered against my bay window. It was like looking through cataracts, but I was pretty sure I saw Rose and Asa making their way down the street toward me. I rushed to my door and threw it open.

"You crazy nuts. What are you doing out in this storm?"

They made it safely inside, and I closed the door just before a bolt of lightning lit up the trailer.

"Coffee," Asa said. He removed his slicker and hung it on the coat rack near the door.

"Sorry, the power went out before I could make it."

Rose pulled a Thermos out of her slicker. "We got plenty."

I smiled and shook my head, amazed at Rose's uncanny knack for knowing things, or feeling things or suspecting things. Whatever it was, she just had a way of being tuned into life in a way I'd never experienced before.

Asa hung Rose's rain slicker next to his. I noticed he was wearing hip-high fishing waders. I gave him a funny look and he smiled.

"I heard of it raining cats and dogs but never trout," I said.

Asa chuckled. "I like to wear them in the rain," he said."Easier for me to slip into than tie or buckle boots when I need to slop around the park." Then he let the suspenders droop and simply stepped out of the boots.

I had to admit it made perfect sense, but that was the first time I ever had a man in waders come to my front door.

"We can ride out the storm together," Rose said.

I poured coffee from the Thermos. The aroma of the freshbrewed coffee wafted around the small room. It was nutty and brown and smelled like dirt and rain and springtime.

"I spoke to the Frost sisters," Asa said. "They agreed to let us use some of their land to make a ball field." He reminded me of Lucky when he got all excited about going for a car ride. "A ball field, Charlotte, can you believe it? Paradise's own ball field."

"And the best part is that it isn't on Paradise land," Rose said. "Not thing one Fergus Wrinkel can do about it."

Out the corner of my eye I spotted an object flit past my trailer and then make a sharp turn down my wooden walkway."What in tarnation was that? Looked like a dog or a great big gopher or something."

I heard a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it," Asa said.

I kept looking out the window. "What was it?"

"Just Ginger Rodgers," Asa called. "She's sopping wet."

"Ginger?" I felt a flush of embarrassment start at my toes and travel clear up to my ears. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to imply . . . I just couldn't see . . . "

Rose touched my hand. "She didn't hear you, Charlotte. Don't fret. Even if she did, it would take a lot more than a gopher reference to upset her."

I blew air out my nose. Paradise was a little hard to get used to.

"Hello," Ginger called. She had a small-girl voice, almost as though her voice stopped growing when she did.

"Welcome," I said. "Come in. Come in." I shook the surprise from my head and went to greet her.

Asa had already draped her raincoat—tan with large purple flowers on it—over top of his on the coat rack. She kicked off her sopping wet sneakers—little white Keds with pinkish soles.

"Ginger," I said. "What a nice surprise. Truly, a nice surprise. We were just having coffee and I think I might be able to rustle up some breakfast. Maybe some bacon and eggs and I got these little tiny . . . oh I'm sorry." I could have kicked myself. "I have some mini . . . " I stopped talking.

"Oh pish," Ginger said. "There are other small things in the world besides me, Charlotte."

I nodded.

"I think she might be talking about these mini-quiche-type things I found in the freezer." Rose dropped a tray of twelve quiche Lorraines on the kitchen counter.

"That's right," I said. "You like mini-quiches."

"I like anything mini," Ginger said.

I opened the package. "Oh, dear. What am I saying? We can't cook. The power is out."

"Sure you can," Rose said. "Propane, remember? Just light your stove."

"Well, hot dog. That's wonderful."

The initial discomfort quickly wore off and pretty soon the four of us were sitting at my table—Ginger on a large book Asa set on a chair—eating breakfast and listening to the storm in the dark and extolling the virtues of cooking by propane.

"So when the rain stops later this afternoon, I'll give Studebaker a call and we'll start clearing the land out there. I figure we'll only need about an acre or less, don't you think, Charlotte?"

"I think that will do," I said. "How long do you think it will take?"

Another roll of thunder passed overhead. Ginger looked up."That might be the last of it," she said. "The sky is starting to clear to the west."

I looked out the window. The dark clouds were moving away, leaving behind blue, cloudless sky.

"Not sure," Asa said. "We got some trees to clear, sod to lay, an infield to build."

"And who is going to pay for this?" Rose asked. She plunked a third mini-quiche on her plate.

"I will," I said matter-of-factly. "I got some money stashed away. How much you think it will cost?"

Asa scratched his head. "Don't know."

"Just do it," I said.

That was when Ginger grabbed my hand. "Thank you, Jesus, for bringing this lovely woman into our midst." Then her eyes popped open and she bit into the last of her bacon. It was like praying was an extension of breathing to her. It seemed to come so naturally and easily, like talking to a friend. I couldn't imagine God being a friend.

Asa wiped his mouth and polished off his coffee. "I got a trailer to clean out first thing and Fergus said something about Mrs. Crenshaw's toilet is leaking again. Woman needs to invest in a new pot."

"Don't think I know Mrs. Crenshaw," I said.

"Oh, she's an older woman, must be a hundred and two. She lives just over there in number 23, the trailer with all the birdhouses scattered around."

I looked out the window. "That old place? I put a flyer in her door, but I would have skipped it if I had known it was an old woman living there."

"She's just an old woman with no one but herself. Crotchety old bird," Rose said. "But she is not a hundred and two."

"She's a little cuckoo," Asa said.

"Now, Asa," Ginger said. "She has a right to her oddities, same as any old person."

Lucky must have sensed the end of the storm. He went right for the door. "Just a sec, Lucky." I was just about to stand up, but Asa beat me to it.

"There you go, boy," Asa said. And Lucky bounded outside."I can put a doggie door in here with no trouble at all, Charlotte."

"Like what kind of oddities?" I asked still thinking about Mrs. Crenshaw.

"How about the birdhouses for one thing," Asa said. "She's got a hundred of them over there, and then there's the hats. All them hats."

"Hats?"

Rose swallowed pie. "She must have a million of them. Puts on a new one every time she comes out to fill the birdhouses. She just sits there on that little bench waiting on the birds. I've seen Fergus go in, and of course Asa, when she has plumbing or electric issues. But she doesn't have much to say and will shoo you out after just a couple of minutes," said Rose. "Still, I painted her name on the giant hand."

"I better get on over there," Asa called. "Don't want the old bird to not be able to use her bathroom for long."

Asa pulled on his hip waders and ran across the street, jumping over two puddles.

"Charlotte tried to visit with Suzy last night," said Rose, turning her attention to Ginger.