by Joyce Magnin
"Pie," she squeaked. "Store-bought or homemade?"
"Homemade." I found a TV tray stacked with magazines. I put them on the floor and set the table near her. I placed her cup and saucer, a dainty set decorated with four-leaf clovers, on the tray.
"Thank you, child. Now go on. Run and bring Hazel a hunk of that pie."
"Back in a flash."
She smiled and winced at the same time, like smiling hurt her whole body.
I dashed out the door and nearly knocked into Asa.
"Hey, what are you doing over there?" he asked.
"She invited me." I shrugged.
"No kidding?"
"Mm. Weird, but she's a lovely woman, Asa. I think folks have her all wrong. She's lovely. Just lovely. Well, the hats in the kitchen pantry is weird, but still."
"She always yells at me," Asa said. "Orders me around like I'm five years old."
"She's been nothing but nice to me. Still don't know why she wanted to see me."
Asa shook his head. "I'm sure she'll let you know. Maybe Lucky's been tearing up her yard."
"Don't think so. Now look, I'm running for pie right now. Before her tea gets cold."
"Okay, Charlotte, I came by to tell you that the sod has been laid, and we're building the infield. But I need more money."
"For what?"
Asa laughed. "Everything."
I moved closer to my front door. "Listen, I don't want to leave Hazel too long. I'll give you a check. Just get what you need."
"Given any thought to uniforms and such?"
"Not yet. But I will. We'll get them. For now just concentrate on getting equipment. You know what to get? Bats, balls. And better get some gloves. They'll need to work them in pretty quickly."
I signed a check and handed it to him.
"A blank check?"
"Get what you can." I nabbed a pie off the kitchen table.
Asa folded the check with his one hand and slipped it into his pocket. "Studebaker will help. He says he knows just where to get everything."
"Good, good. Now I better get back to Hazel."
Asa shot me a look I didn't quite understand. Almost like he was worried or jealous or both. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.
Lucky joined me this time and settled himself down under a tree in Hazel's yard. His look said nothing more than, "I love you, Charlotte." Dogs are good that way. They know everything about you and never judge.
"Hazel," I called. "I'm back. I brought deep-dish apple. Hope you like apple."
No reply. My heart skipped a beat. I looked her way and there she was, sound asleep. Or at least I hoped she was sleeping. I crept close to her. "She okay, Smiley?"
He said nothing.
"Hazel," I said. I lightly touched her cheek and her eyes popped open like two window shades. She had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. A little cloudy perhaps from cataracts or medications or just old age. Still, they were two patches of bright outfield set against stormy clouds.
"I brought the pie. Hope you like apple."
"That's fine, child. Apple is fine. Good for my bowels, you know. Never get old, Charlotte. And if you do, pray you will always get yourself to and from the toilet. It all comes down to that, you know. The minute you can't get yourself to the pot is the minute they lock you into a nursing home. Thank the good Lord I can still—"
"I understand, Hazel. Let me get you a slice."
The rest of her cabinets were chock-full of some of the finest china and porcelain I had ever seen. Some of it looked like it was fresh from the Ming Dynasty. I chose two small plates ringed with rosebuds. I pulled two sterling silver forks from the drawer. Imagine using sterling for everyday. There was a lesson to be learned.
"Here you go, Hazel. Apple pie."
She blinked.
I sat on the sofa with Smiley and my pie.
Hazel chewed. "Mm-mm-mm. Why, Charlotte Figg, this is the best pie I have ever et. I mean it, child. You could sell this."
"Funny you should say that. I've been thinking I might need to."
"Need to?" She swallowed and then sipped tea.
"To raise money for the softball team I was trying to get together around here."
She put her hand up as if to stop me. "I heard there was a little trouble in Paradise."
"Trouble?"
"That's why I called you over here."
I swallowed. "But it's not trouble. The team is perfectly—"
"Hush. I got more to say."
I moved forward on the sofa an inch or so. "Is there a problem, Hazel, because if there is I can't possibly see what you can have against the team."
"I said hush."
My mother taught me to respect my elders, so I settled back and gave Smiley a scratch behind the ear. It didn't matter one iota if this woman liked the notion of a Paradise softball team. There was no way she could stop it, and why should she care? It wouldn't bother her in the least.
"I heard you were looking for a sponsor?"
My heart sped up and I all of a sudden noticed how warm it was in her trailer. "Yes, we are? Is it warm in here?"
"Open the jalousie, Charlotte."
I reached behind and cranked the slatted window open."Old-timey," I said. "I like them."
Hazel laughed. "Everything in here is old-timey. Even Smiley. Turned seventeen just the other day."
"Wow, that's old for a cat."
"Eighty-two is old for a human. But I'm sharp as a tack." She tuned out for a second and seemed to be searching for words."Sometimes I can't remember the day I was born. Could be August. Could be September. All I know for sure is it was the year 1892." She squinted like she was trying to see more clearly. "I think."
I shook my head and marveled. Eighteen ninety-two? My goodness gracious. My head filled with a million questions, but I was more interested to hear what she had to say.
"I'm sorry, Hazel. But I am really curious to know why you called me over here."
She finished her tea and set the cup down with a shaky hand that clattered the china.
"You're looking for a sponsor."
"I am, but how can you—"
"I want to sponsor your team, Charlotte."
Now, I will admit that I was totally incredulous. I thought the woman's trolley had slipped its track. How in tarnation could she ever sponsor our team unless she sold off all her antiques, and I didn't think there was any chance of that happening. And besides the notion was just plain stupid.
"I don't understand, Hazel. How can—"
"Course you don't. You won't let me finish talking."
"Sorry." I scrunched back into the soft sofa.
"I can and I will if you want. Elsmere Elastic will look fine on your uniforms, don't you think?"
"Elsmere Elastic? You mean the factory where the men work? But how?"
"I own the factory," Hazel said. "Elsmere was my dead husband. Birdy's not his real name. No mama in her right mind would name a son Birdy. Nope. That there is Elsmere Crenshaw."
"How come you call him Birdy?"
"He liked birds. No big deal, huh?"
"Elsmere is a fine name."
"Now listen, child, only Fergus Wrinkel knows I own the plant. I also own Paradise. Never mind all those rumors you hear about me. Except the one about Birdy's death at the plant when he got thwacked in the head by a piece of elastic that slipped off its roller. Ironic, huh?"
I cringed. "You mean, it hit him that hard?"
"Elastic is powerful stuff, Charlotte. Folks don't realize how strong it is, and it was a pretty wide roll that slipped its gears. Hit him right upside the head." She touched her temple with the tips of three fingers. "Threw him clear across the floor."
"I'm sorry, Hazel. It must have been awful."
She pursed her thin lips as tears formed in her eyes. "You'd think you'd get over death. But you don't, not really. Grief is a strange bedfellow. Always there."
I looked around the trailer in an effort to squash my own feelings. "You have some nice things."
"Birdy took good care of me."
"But I thought Fergus owned this park."
She twisted her lips into a wrinkled prune. "He's a pip. That's just what he wants people to believe. He's nothing more than a manager."
"But I write my rent checks to Biddy Properties."
"Me," she said with another wave of her hand. "The old biddy."
"So you sold me that broken down—"
Hazel laughed. "Sorry about that." Her face fell, and I couldn't tell if she was sad or amused. "I didn't know Fergus did that 'til after it was done. But it all worked out."
"So Fergus fills you in on everything around here."
"That's right."
We talked for a few more minutes, and I told her that I would bring papers from the league for her to sign.
"Don't bring them here, for goodness sake. Take them to the factory and have Mr. Vangarten sign them."
"Vangarten? Cash Vangarten?" I said.
"You know him? He's my director of operations. He'll sign anything I tell him."
My heart fluttered and I had to will myself not to turn pippin red. "I met him the other day. He coaches a team."
"Where on earth did you meet Cash Vangarten?"
"In Shoops. At the Pink Lady. I was looking for information about joining a league. He told me where to go and all about his team. The Thunder, I think."
Hazel chuckled and slapped her knees. " 'Spect to see some fireworks in the league this year."
"Do you sponsor his team too?"
She got off another good laugh. "No, no. That's where the fireworks will come in. He's been asking me for three years running now."
"And you keep refusing?"
"I got my reasons."
I let it go at that and we finished our pie with a few more laughs. "Thank you, Hazel," I said. "The team will be so happy . . . and grateful."
She put her finger to her lips. "Now, this is our secret. They don't need the details."
"Okay. But why?"
"I just like it that way. A girl has to have her secrets."
I kissed her cheek. It was warm and old and tasted like orange blossom dust. "Thank you, Hazel. I can't wait to tell the team."
She put a gnarled finger to her lips. "Just remember our secret. And bring me pie and win a few games, okay, Charlotte?"
She looked tired. "Maybe you should take a nap."
"I just might do that."
16
Asking me to keep a secret was a little like asking Lucky not to pee on the maple tree. But on my way across the street I decided that I would do my level best not to tell a soul about Hazel Crenshaw and the Elsmere Elastic Factory, even though I knew folks would ask how I got them to sponsor the Angels. I would have to lie or come squeaky close to lying in order to protect dear, sweet Hazel.
"Yoo-hoo, Charlotte." It was Rose's yoo-hoo. "I was looking for you all morning. Have you seen the ball field?"
"Not yet."
"Asa and Studebaker and whoever else he got to help have done a fine job. A fine job. You must go take a look."
"Okay, okay. He said he was picking up some of the equipment today."
"Well, that explains why he's gone. But let's get Ginger and go on over to Edwina and Thomasina's."
"Let me go inside and freshen up first."
"Freshen up? Where were you?"
"I was just over at—I mean, I just went for a walk."
Rose looked at me with eyes that said, "Now that's a fib, Charlotte."
My tongue had started to ache because I had to bite it so hard to keep from spilling the beans. "I'll be right out, Rose. Just need to freshen up."
I left her standing outside because I needed to catch my breath and think a minute. This was quite a morning, meeting Hazel, learning about the factory, having her agree to sponsor and all. I needed a sip of cooking sherry.
After I composed myself, I went back to Rose.
"Let's go," I said. "I can't wait to see the ball field."
"Just you wait. The Lord has come through in mighty ways. I told you he would."
"He certainly has. You have no idea."
"What are you talking about, Charlotte Figg? You look awfully suspicious, like you have a secret to tell. Now, where were you just now?"
"You'll find out with the rest of the team. Now come on—" I grabbed her arm, "Let's go see the field."
We passed by Rose's trailer and saw Ginger standing near the giant hand. We waved. She waved.
"Come on," Rose called. "We're going over to the Frost sisters' to see the new field. It's a doozy."
I lingered near the hand a second and whispered, "Thank you."
My father took me to Phillies games when I was a kid. Lots of them. But I will never forget the very first time I saw a major league baseball park in person. My father and I weaved our way through a series of gates and around the stadium until we came up through a darkened tunnel to the stands. I stood there shaking. I had never seen anything so big and so green and so bright in my life. I couldn't breathe. Connie Mack Stadium was the prettiest thing on earth. But as incredible as that experience was, looking out over Angel Field that afternoon was even more so. Perhaps because it was ours, because it was handpicked and handmade by friends. We all stood there staring, and I knew none of us wanted the feeling to vanish.
Rose took my hand. "That Asa. He did a fine job, Charlotte."
"It's beautiful," Ginger said.
"Connie Mack, eat your heart out," said Edwina who was wiping tears from her eyes.
"Where on God's earth did he find such green, green grass?"
"You think Pa would approve?" Thomasina asked.
Edwina scratched her head. "Maybe. Can't tell. We are using his wheat field for ball playing and all that—"
"But leastways we are using it." Thomasina turned to me."Pa always said us girls would never be able to keep the farm the way it was supposed to be kept."
"And we didn't," Edwina said.
Rose put her hand on Thomasina's shoulder. "You made it better."
I wanted to walk out on the field, but it was so new I didn't want to touch it and maybe harm the new sod. Asa would let us know when it was ready for traipsing. He knew just how much care the fledgling grass would need before we could go tromping around on it.
Ginger wasn't quite so sensitive, and she took off around the infield kicking up new dirt into small clouds and wisps.
"Ginger," I called. "Maybe we should wait."
She rounded third base and stopped. She was indeed fast.
"How come?" she called as she rounded third and headed for home.
"It's not cured or something. Might need a day or two."
She took her time getting back to us. "That was exhilarating."
I ventured closer to the outfield and knelt down. I brushed my palm lightly over the blades. "Don't know why they call them blades of grass," I said. "This is so soft. Like cotton."
"Swabs," called Rose. "They are swabs of grass."
"That's right," I said. "Swabs."
Edwina called, "Here come Asa and Stu. Looks like his truck is packed down but good."
Sure enough, Asa started off-loading bright white bases, a rubber home plate, bats, balls, a catcher's mask and pads, even a chalk machine to draw lines, and a batter's box.
"I got the chalk machine cheap," Asa called. "It's been used quite a bit but still works great."
Next they unloaded a batting cage, wheeled it near home plate, and locked it into place. Rose and I took the bases and distributed them around the infield.
"Now, you know we'll have to measure them," Asa called.
"I know. Sixty feet."
And so it went for the next hour or so. But when all was said and done, Angel Field was just about the prettiest thing I had ever seen.
We stood on the sidelines and gazed at our masterpiece like it was a Monet. But the spell was broken when the Frost sisters, who had been supplying us with iced tea and Cokes all morning, took on a glum ex
pression.
"What's wrong with Thomasina?" Rose asked. "She looks so sad."
"So does Edwina," I said. "What's happening to everyone?"
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you all just so happy that you're crying?"
I thought there might have been some kind of emotional backsplash after such hard work, but when Ginger, usually a firecracker no matter what, plopped herself on the grass and started to cry, I got really worried. Half my team was breaking down.
"Come on," I said. "Someone tell me what's wrong."
"Fine field," Edwina said. "Too bad nobody'll ever play on it. Not for real."
"What in tarnation are you jabbering about?" I asked.
"We still need a sponsor," Rose said. "I was up in God's hand nearly all night asking for it, praying for His will to be done in the life of the Angels and I suppose this is it. All dressed up, nowhere to go."
I chuckled. "Why, Rose Tattoo, I am ashamed of you."
"Me?"
"You've been saying all along that no job is too big when God is around."
Edwina snuffed back tears. "What's that got to do with Angel Field?"
"I have some very good news," I said.
They brightened up. Ginger jumped up like a jack-in-thebox."News? Why didn't you tell us?"
"I don't know. We got so busy with the field and equipment. That reminds me, Asa, we'll need a locker or a shed of some sort to keep the bats and balls and such in. Something waterproof."
"No problem, Charlotte. Now, you better tell us your news before these ladies throw a conniption fit."
I noticed him rub his left shoulder and wince.
"You all right?"
He seemed embarrassed. "It's nothing. Just the darndest thing sometimes. After a hard day's work it aches clear down to where my fingers and wrist should be."
Phantom pain. That was what Rose called it.
"Well, maybe this will help you feel better." I took a swig of Coke. "We have a sponsor."
The small group cheered so loud I half expected the rest of the team to come running out. "Who? Who did you get? Not Fergus Wrinkel?" Rose asked.
"Now, please don't ask a boatload of questions; just accept a gift as a gift and never mind about the particulars. And no, not Fergus Wrinkel."
