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 Deter’s 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 washers 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 pillowcase 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 bodysuit, 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.”

I lifted one arm and patted her on the back.

“Two arms,” she instructed me. “We do real, two armed hugs.” I lifted my other arm. “Mmmhmmm, now squeeze,” she insisted. “Tighter.” I pushed my arms together a tiny bit more. “Tighter.”

“Leave her alone.” Dottie Swaggert walked into The Laundry Club. This time with a pair of short khakis, white shirt tucked tight, a pair of flip flops and her bright red hair curled all around her head. “This here is Mae West and she’s one of us now. I’m glad you found the place.”

Our eyes caught each other’s and after a couple of seconds, our eyes softened as we both gave each other a gentle smile.

“Why didn’t you say you was one of us?” Queenie jumped up and hurried over to a table in the back corner of the laundry mat. “This calls for a round of coffee.”

“You go on and use those laundry machines on the side wall.” Abby pointed the way. “They are pretty fast and I’m sure you don’t want to hang around the club too long,” she winked.

“You better get used to it, because The Laundry Club is the closest thing you’re going to get to a country club in Normal.” Queenie walked back over with a tray of Styrofoam cups filled to the rim with coffee and a couple of cookies. “We have fresh coffee every day, a TV and a monthly book club meeting.  If you need just to chit chat you can come on by and someone is always here.”

“I’ve never been to a laundry mat, and it’s really nice.” I looked around and noticed a bookshelf with books. There was a poster hanging over the top of it that mentioned a book club meeting. “There really is a book club?” I asked, not that I’d ever been in one, but I better get to know these ladies if I was going to get Happy Trails up and running. They might be some sort of help.

“Yes. Do you like to read?” Abby asked with wide eyes.

“Mmmhmmm,” I agreed. It was easier, though I’d not picked up a book in years.

“Great! I bring the really torn up books from the library here instead of us throwing them out.” She smiled. “Every time someone wants to throw away a book, a little bit of my soul dies.”

“We duct tape them because we don’t want Abby’s soul to die.” Queenie went back over to her table and sat down. “Nothing duct tape can’t fix.” She grabbed a bag off the floor and dragged it onto her lap, pulling out a big roll of duct tape.

“Can it fix a campground?” I half joked and half serious.

“You’re the new owner. I thought I recognized that name, West.” Abby snapped her finger and looked over at Dottie for confirmation. “Welcome to Normal. I didn’t think you looked like you were from around these parts.” She scrunched up her nose and brought her cup of coffee up to take a drink.

There was an awkward silence between me and the three women. They were all staring at me like it was show-n-tell and it was my turn. I bent down and grabbed a handful of clothes, throwing them into the washer. I shut the door and looked at the key pad. There was so many choices, so I just picked the top one.

“I can see it,” Queenie gasped. Her hands flew up over and head. They formed a claw before they swooped down and touched the glass ball. The electricity roared towards the touch of her fingers. “You are a rich girl who has fallen on hard times. You’ve had someone to take care of you for a long time.” She threw her head back and sucked in a deep, dramatic breath, sending her head forward. She lifted her hands and dropped them back on the ball. “I predict your future is bleak. Poorer than you’ve ever been.”

I looked at Queenie. Was she some sort of weirdo psychic?

“Didn’t you tell Mae not to pay attention to her?” Dottie rushed over to the table and jerked out the cord that ran from Queenie’s ball to the electrical outlet.

“I did.” Abby glared at Queenie .

“What?” Queenie shrugged. “First off, she didn’t separate out her clothes between darks and whites. She mixed linens with cotton. Then she didn’t put detergent in. She pushed the first button she saw.” Queenie crossed her arms in a huff.

“So, you can’t read my mind or any of that other voodoo stuff?” I questioned, being let down a little bit because I was going to ask her how long it was going to take to sell the campground.

“Heck no.” Abby rolled her eyes. “She likes to pretend to but look at her. She’s a sixty-year old widowed, Jazzercise instructor that spends every waking moment here at The Laundry Club when she’s not doing jazz hands or jazz square or whatever other jazz they’re doing in the undercroft of the Normal Baptist Church.”

“Free coffee and TV.” Queenie smiled. “Can’t beat it.” She eased herself up out of her chair. “Now, you look like you need a mama to take care of you while you’re here.”

I looked up at the TV and there was Paul’s big mug shot on one of those news programs. I turned away. There was no sense in looking at it. The media loved plastering his face on a daily basis when there wasn’t any more news to tell.

Queenie hit another button on the washing machine and opened the door. Abby had walked over a basket on wheels. Dottie started to take out my wet clothes.

“What do you mean while I’m here?” I asked while I watched them closely so I wouldn’t have to ask anyone again if I had to come back, but I was hoping to get the machines at the park fixed. Was I that transparent?

“From what Dottie told us,” Queenie started.

“I didn’t tell them nothin’.” Dottie snarled.

“Why you liar. You big liar. You called us up as soon as she pulled into her lot at the Happy Trails.” Queenie shook a finger at Dottie. Dottie’s face reddened. “Anyways, she said that you had some sort of brochure and something about fixin’ up the place to sell.”

“Like you’re better than us.” Abby offered a kind smile when I didn’t deserve it. “We understand. We don’t get many people that actually move to Normal. Soon we probably won’t even be a town.”

“I did hear that business was down in the shops.” Queenie nodded. “Poor Daniel Boone is probably rolling over in his grave.”

“I. . .” I stuttered for words, actually embarrassed by my actions.

“Don’t you worry that little head of yours.” Abby rolled her eyes. “Daniel Boone ain’t rolling over in his grave. He died before they named all the wooded land after him.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. It’s just that the past few months of my life haven’t been the greatest for me and I’m not sure how to maneuver this new life of mine.”

“Don’t you worry. We’re all here for you no matter what you decide.” Abby gave another wink.

“Let me show you how to do laundry.” Queenie pulled a couple of quarters out of her fanny pack.

I stood there and watched as she fed the machine the quarters, then pushed all sorts of buttons while Dottie brought over detergent. I can’t say that I heard every word; all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating to the tune of joy. It was something I’d not felt in a long time.

“Let’s talk about Happy Trails.” Dottie had a puzzle piece in her hand and was leaned over the table where there were the beginnings of a puzzle. She patted a chair next to her. “Bring your coffee over here.”

Abby put her book down and walked over. Not long after that, Queenie came over. Before I knew it, we all had a puzzle piece in our hand, trying to fit them together.

“Get to the nitty gritty.” Queenie was a spitfire. I could only imagine what her Jazzercise class looked like. “What do you plan to do with the Happy Trails?”

“I’m not sure how much you know about my ex-husband, Paul.” I tried to fit the puzzle piece a couple of times in two different spots, but my hands were shaky, so I just put it back on the table with the other loose pieces and decided to just enjoy the coffee. “He did a lot of people wrong and that included me.”

“We watched it all right here on that TV.” Abby nodded. “If I remember, they were trying to pin it on you too.”

“Right. But he forged my signature on a lot of the documents and that was proven by a handwriting analysis.” I took a drink of coffee.

I wasn’t sure why I was opening up to these women; I’d not even opened up to my own family. Not that I’ve talked to them in years, but still. These women were complete strangers. Maybe that was why. They didn’t know anything about me and my real story could come out. Not what was in the tabloids and news.

“Go on.” Queenie patted a piece in place and grabbed another one.

“We’d been married a couple of years. I’m thirty and he’s sixty-one.” I looked to see their reaction.

All of their heads jerked up and they looked at each other.

“You’re a gold digger?” Queenie was apparently the type of person who just said what she wanted.

“No. I actually fell in love with him. He has that silver hair which I think is really foxy.” The memories of how we met flooded my mind. “He was a successful and single businessman. I was a flight attendant. He hired me to be his personal attendant on his plane. He didn’t have children and I actually signed a prenuptial agreement.”

“That was ignorant for such a smart girl. Well,” Queenie’s eyes drew up and down me. “You look smart anyways. They say looks can be deceiving.”

“Queenie,” Abby and Dottie scolded her.

“What?” Queenie’s lip curled up in the corner. “I call it as I see it.”

“I loved him. He was really kind, giving, and he took great care of me. Then one day the FBI showed up. I had no idea what was going on.” My throat suddenly dried and I drank the rest of my coffee. “He did a lot of people wrong. Left me bankrupt, homeless, and embarrassed.”

“You got the Happy Trails,” Dottie said as if it were a prize.

“A couple of days ago, I traded in my house and car keys for the camper. Our lawyer said that it’d be a new start for me. I’m not going to lie, the brochure he gave me made it look like paradise and I figured I’d take a little vacation here while I got my head screwed on right and then sell it.” I laughed through my nose. “I’m not a landlord and don’t even know how to do it. Someone else would be much better than me, especially now that I’ve seen it. I feel awful these people are living this way and I’ve just got to do something about it.”

“Like what?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know.” I swallowed hard, trying to manage a feeble answer. “Something like a fundraiser. We could clean up the lake and maybe get some of the shops to donate some things since it’ll help benefit everyone in Normal.” I thought of the flamingo keychain. “Something with flamingos and palm trees.”

“We could go to the party supply store.” Queenie nodded.

“The Happy Trails really just needs a quick clean up and I can make everyone clean the outsides of the campers,” Dottie made a good point. “When they are cleaned, it’s all shiny.”

“And we can all make something or get Betts Hager and the Bible thumpers to donate food and stuff,” Queenie’s voice rose an octave.

“Bible thumpers?” I asked.

“Don’t listen to Queenie. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Abby joked. “Betts Hager is the owner of The Laundry Club and she’s usually here, but today is her weekly Bible club meeting. She’s one of us. Actually, Betts does a lot of things around Normal.”

Hhmmm…I remembered Paul used to tell me how he made sure when he first started out in business that he rubbed elbows with the community’s major players. In the end, he was a crook, but it did make sense to figure out who knew everything in Normal so I could get the fixes on the park, sell it and get on with my new life. Not that I had something against Normal, Kentucky, it just wasn’t my home or even my life.

“She carries a Bible and might hit you with it, but yeah, she’s one of us,” Dottie followed up. “It’s the four of us together all the time. Her husband is the Normal Baptist Church preacher and she’s in a group of women who love to cook and participate in anything.”

Beep, beep. The rattle of an old school bus slowly passed by The Laundry Club. A young woman was hanging out one of the small slide down windows flailing her arms.

“Speak of the Bible thumpers,” Queenie said under her breath with a smile on her face and waving back.

“They travel in a bus?” I asked.

“In packs.” Queenie winked and nudged Dottie.

“Queenie , you’re going to scare Mae off and we don’t need that,” Dottie warned her. “Betts has to do all that church stuff. Today is the day they go witness to that cushy penitentiary in Lexington.”

“Cushy?” Without saying anything, I knew that was where Paul had been taken for his sentence.

“Yeah.” Queenie’s nose curled. “It’s a fancy one like the one Martha Stewart was in. The criminals there didn’t kill anyone. They just broke the law,” She shrugged.

“Betts and her church friends go to minister to the men in prison each week. They even take some baked goods.” Dottie smiled. “You know, good will and all that stuff.”

“That’s why the Bible thumpers will be perfect to bake the desserts for the fundraiser. Good will and stuff.” Queenie nodded a few times. “So, we’ve got the sweets covered, we can get everyone in the campground to cook some sort of camping food like we do once a week.” She nodded towards Dottie who nodded back. Apparently, they knew what each other was talking about.

“Dottie is going to get the residents of the campground to clean up a little. Abby will go to the supply store and do all that social media hashtag thingy,” she continued.

“What am I going to do?” I looked between them to see if they had any sage advice before I got in front of Betts.

“You’re going to come up with a business plan on how you can get Happy Trails looking like that brochure. Research how much sod costs and getting the lake cleaned up.”

“The laundry machines fixed?” I nodded, but they all frowned.

“Nah, we got The Laundry Club.” They tsked and we all broke out in laughter.

“Hashtag Happy Trails Campground in the Hashtag Daniel Boone National Park in Hashtag Normal, Kentucky will be ready for the hashtag summer season in a couple of weeks. Hashtag new campground. Hashtag beach party. Hashtag party,” Abby said as she typed. “Hashtag grand re-opening.”

I couldn’t help but give a nervous laugh because this was going to go down.