Tammy sat back, crossed her knees and started swinging one perfect leg. Then she folded her arms and turned her head towards Jerry. They couldn’t see her eyes behind her red-framed cats-eye sunglasses, and her face looked perfectly composed, but Jerry visibly gulped. “I’ve already had Tammy in my ear about this, but my mind’s made up.”
This didn’t sound good. Georgie eyed him warningly. “Your mind is made up.”
“When you decided to give up managing vintage vans to take to the road, it became my responsibility. So yeah, my mind is made up.”
Tammy said nothing, but her leg swung faster.
“I thought Tammy was managing it now?”
“She’s a great help, of course. But Tams hasn’t got the big picture view of the business that I have.” He rushed on. “We’re leaving vintage vans at the RV Empire, as I promised, but we’re shuffling things around a little. Now, I’ve agreed to relocate a large section of truck campers and BOVs to the new premises—and that was purely because you were so against moving vintage there, Georgie—but Dad needs the vintage space for his new Customer Care facility. So we’re just doing a little sideways move, and vintage will be in that nice quiet little corner behind the main workshop.”
Georgie stared at him. He turned on his most charming Jerry smile, the one accompanied by twinkling eyes and one deep dimple. “See?” he said. “Nothing terrible at all. And Tams has these great ideas for picket fences and flowers and your retro people will come in droves.”
Tammy re-crossed her arms and kept staring in his direction through her impenetrable sunglasses.
He sat back, maintaining the practiced smile. “Dad’s really happy with the way vintage sales are going. You girls are nailing it.”
Georgie pictured herself nailing Jerry to a wall. Right at the front of Johnny B. Goode’s RV Empire, where he could serve as a warning to others.
“No,” she said.
The smile almost slipped, but Jerry regrouped. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean N.O. No.”
“Well, with all due respect, Georgie, I wasn’t actually asking for permission. I’m just doing you the courtesy of keeping you informed.”
Layla’s eyes widened. Tammy’s leg stopped jigging.
Georgie reached over and took another chicken-and-lettuce triangle and nibbled at it, regarding Jerry thoughtfully. What he was suggesting probably was a practical way to reorganize the available space, she could see that. The only problem was that it was just one way, and his arrogance in completely ignoring her feelings—and Tammy’s—about vintage vans took her breath away.
Nobody was putting her vintage vans in a corner.
The silence grew.
Georgie took her time finishing her sandwich, and then said, “What do you think, Tammy?”
Tammy pushed her sunglasses down her nose with her fingertip and gazed steadily over the top at Jerry. “I would prefer to have the vintage vans where they catch the eye of visitors as soon as they drive in. They’re cheerful and colorful and they put people in a good mood, even if they’re there to look at some other kind of RV.” She glanced at Georgie. “Move the 5th Wheels across a little, juggle the track campers, and rotate the trade-ins between their present spot and the corner behind the workshop.”
With her trained designer’s eye, Georgie could instantly picture the effect when people drove in. Tammy was untrained, but a natural. She nodded approvingly. “And you shared this with Jerry?”
“I started to,” Tammy said, her voice cool. “But Jerry was so enthusiastic about this latest plan that he wanted to get over here and tell you right away. I did attempt to speak with him, but he was too caught up in his own plans.”
Jerry started to look unhappy. “Now, girls, it’s not that big of a deal. Vintage and retro people, they’ll go looking for the vans wherever you put them. I’ve already made a huge compromise in agreeing to move truck campers and BOVs off site.”
Layla, quiet until now, butted in. “Will somebody tell me what the heck a “BOV” is?”
“Bug-Out Vehicle,” said Tammy. “You know, for preppers.” She pushed her sunglasses back over her eyes. “Which is Jerry’s pet interest, along with any other kind of extreme RV. Just as vintage vans is my pet interest, and Georgie’s.”
Her message was clear.
Tammy stood up. She put her hands on her hips and stared at Jerry, a curvy gorgeous blonde in her 50s shorts and blouse.
He stared back, a hint of panic in the back of his eyes.
“If you do this, Jerry,” said Tammy, “I’m going to get a teeny bit mad.”
She reached over and he flinched, but she just ran a hand gently over his hair before patting him on the cheek.
Then she walked off. All three of them watched her, her trim bottom swinging in the red shorts and her blonde hair bouncing.
Georgie looked at Jerry.
He kept his eyes on Tammy until she climbed the steps of her new retro trailer and disappeared, and then cleared his throat and stood up.
“I’ll give it more thought,” he said, not meeting Georgie’s eyes, and walked off after Tammy.
“He’s toast,” Layla said complacently. “More tea?”
CHAPTER 3
The weather at their current RV park near Santa Monica was perfect, and that was why Georgie told herself that she needed more summer clothes. That decision, she admitted to herself, might have had something to with being around the retro trailer set with their never-ending delight in vintage fashions. Since she had already bought half of Mags’ stock for her gypsy persona, she decided some casual 50s outfits might be nice. After all, she said to Layla, she was part of the road team for all of the vintage division, not just gypsy wagons, right?
“Yeah, right,” Layla had responded. “Like you need an excuse.”
The next step was to find somewhere to stash her newfound finery. Happily, the new male in her life, Scott, had returned from a short stint relieving a campground host at an RV park near LA, and didn’t require much persuasion to go hunting for storage options for Georgie’s truck. Now Georgie and Layla were basking in the sun, watching him install a set of slide-out drawers in the back of the truck.
“Very useful, having a boyfriend who has a full set of handyman tools with him,” Layla observed, sprawled in Georgie’s camp chair with her feet up on a box of sales brochures. “What did you say he did back in Australia?”
Georgie, sitting on the steps of her caravan pointing her foot and turning it this way and that to admire her new two-toned flats that went with her red gingham playsuit, said absently, “Something like a park ranger, I think. National parks? Fisheries? He has a degree in something to do with the environment.”
“He can hear you, you know,” Scott said without turning around, sliding a drawer in and out to test it. “He has a Bachelor of Environmental Science. Which qualifies him to work in pretty much any environment.” He paused to make an adjustment and tried it again. “Including aquaculture and forests.” He stood back to survey his work. “There you go. All done. If you can refrain from buying any more clothes, this should do you.”
“Can’t promise that,” Georgie said, exchanging a grin with Layla. She sprang up and walked over to check his handiwork. “Very nice. Thank you. That will get you all kinds of favors.”
“Dangerous words, when I’ve been away for ten days,” Scott said, tipping up her chin and planting a kiss on her lips. “Your place or mine tonight?”
“Mine,” she decided. “I’ll cook dinner.”
Layla sighed, watching them. “I have got to find a man. You’ve got Scott. Tammy has Jerry. I feel deprived. Didn’t you say that I’d find him in LA?”
“California,” Georgie remembered, from the one reading she had done for Layla. “But I couldn’t tell when. Do you want another reading?”
Scott slung a companionable arm around Georgie. “I could do a card reading too. See if we agree.”
Layla eyed him doubtfully. “I thought your m
other was the one who did horoscopes?”
“She is, but you’d be surprised at how much I’ve picked up over the years.”
Georgie wasn’t surprised at all. She still felt that Scott knew a lot more about her—and the future—than he was letting on. No doubt she’d find out one day if her suspicions were correct. Meanwhile, she didn’t mind a bit of mystery in her life.
Other than what she had thrown at her via the crystal ball.
Thinking of the crystal ball made her realize that it was getting late, and her afternoon clients would be turning up soon.
“I’d better go and change,” she said, looking regretfully down at the playsuit. “This is really comfortable. And cool.”
“Stay in it, then,” suggested Scott.
They both just looked at him, and then at each other, with a small smile.
He got the message. “Oh right, you have to stay in character. Well, I’m sure you have something comfortable and cool somewhere in the half a ton of stuff you bought from Mags.” Scott eyed the piles of colorful clothes that were stacked up ready to put in the new drawers.
Georgie put her hands on her hips. “And your point is?”
“Nothing,” Scott said hastily. “It’s all good. You need clothes. And now you have drawers to keep them in.” He turned to gather his tools. “I’ll just pack up and let you get on with it.”
Georgie grinned. “Just kidding, Scott.” She eyed the piles of clothes and chose a pink and brown striped skirt and a cream drawstring blouse. Then she added lacy rust-colored shawl to tie around her waist, and finally snatched up a cheerful headscarf that toned with everything else.
Gypsy-ish and still comfortable.
This was a great life.
She stayed in that happy frame of mind for most of the afternoon, right up until her last appointment, when Nick turned up again.
~~~
Georgie sighed. “Hello, Nick. You’re back.”
“I suppose you’re going to turn me away, after yesterday,” he said. Standing at the bottom of the three steps that led up to her door, he was almost at eye-level. Today he was dressed in a nondescript pair of jeans and a cotton shirt; no football jersey to give him away. He had a notebook and a pen crammed into his shirt pocket.
“I’m not going to spend more time with you just to have you insult me, if that’s what you mean.” Georgie leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms. “Be prepared to take it seriously or forget it.”
His eyes went to the sign on the gate that had her going rates and the words “For entertainment purposes only.” He arched an eyebrow.
“That’s the deal,” Georgie said, unmoved. “And pay upfront.”
“Jeez.” Looking affronted, he pulled out his wallet and extracted a twenty-dollar bill, holding it out to her. “I’d better hear more than my dog’s name today, then.”
Georgie still didn’t invite him in. “You take what comes. If you don’t want to be entertained, then go away.”
“Jeez,” he said again, but stayed where he was. “All right, then.” He motioned for her to take the twenty.
“One more thing. Why are you here, if you don’t believe in all this? Yesterday you called me a fake.”
He said nothing for a moment, holding her gaze, and then muttered, “I might need help with something.”
Still in two minds about whether to let him in, Georgie returned his stare and concentrated on trying to figure out what he was thinking. She had no immediate revelations, but no sense that he was a threat, either, so she took the twenty and beckoned him inside. “Bring that chair with you.”
He toted the chair up the steps and passed it inside, and then settled himself at the table. His eyes went immediately to the crystal ball.
Georgie filled two glasses with water and set them on the table, and made herself comfortable on the bench seat. She adjusted her headscarf, flicked her hair back over her shoulders, and looked at him. “Ready?”
“Yes.” He pulled the notebook and pen out of his pocket and clicked the pen top. “I might take some notes. Is that okay?”
“It’s rare for me to come up with so much information that anyone needs to take notes,” Georgie said, “but feel free.”
He flipped to the first page in the notepad and wrote the date and time.
“Okay. How did you get to be a gypsy fortune teller?” He looked at her expectantly.
“Excuse me?” Georgie’s eyebrows flew up. “I didn’t realize this was an interview.”
“I’m just trying to establish your bona fides,” he explained.
“Says it all on the sign outside. Eighth generation gypsy. It’s in the family genes.” She smiled at him, amused. “Did you think that I had been to college to study this?”
“Well, when did you start? And why are you telling fortunes? Did you ever have any other kind of job?”
Georgie blinked. Oh, for Pete’s sake. “I started three months ago, I’m doing it because I feel as though I should, and yes, I have a degree in design. And my family sells RVs. Is that enough for you, O Doubtful One? Or should I produce a certificate or two?”
“No, that’s all I needed to know.” He scribbled in the notepad.
Georgie squinted and read it upside down. He had written: “Completely unqualified.”
She folded her hands in front of her. “Is this a school project of some kind?”
Nick frowned. “No, it’s for me. Does it make you uncomfortable that I’m questioning your credentials?”
Georgie was seized by an insane desire to laugh, but she managed to keep a straight face. “My “credentials” are an open book. Now, can we get on with this? You said I might be able to help you. How, exactly?”
Nick wouldn’t meet her eyes again. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just ask a few more questions and then I’ll tell you how you can help.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Georgie said testily. “I’ll ask the questions and we’ll see if you’re wasting my time again or not.”
“In a minute,” Nick said stubbornly. “How do you know that what you see is accurate?”
“Didn’t we go through this yesterday?”
“But yesterday I didn’t take notes.”
Georgie gave up. She had never met a kid like this one. “Fine. Fire away.”
Nick went through a dozen questions, along the lines of: “What do you do if you’re not sure of the answer?” and “Do you ever make things up because you think you can guess?” and other questions calculated, she assumed, to give him enough data to decide whether to believe her.
Finally he nodded, and put the pen down. “Okay. Now it’s your turn. What do you see in my future?”
“Oh, besides the likelihood that I’ll be throwing you down the steps with a heartfelt ‘Good riddance’?” she said in honeyed tones.
“No, really. I mean it.”
Georgie closed her eyes for a moment. Be calm, she told herself. Treat him like any other client.
She drew the crystal ball close to her and laid her hands on it, waiting for the familiar feeling of being attuned to its vibrations. Which, after facing a barrage of skeptical questions from Nick, sounded very new-agey and flaky way to think about it, but she couldn’t come up with a more accurate way to put it.
Don’t you dare pop in now, Rosa, she sent as strongly as she could. She wanted to figure this one out for herself.
“What do you see?”
“Sssh.” Tuning him out, she focused on how she might help. What had brought him to her?
Money, she thought. More flowing out than in.
“Are you having financial problems, Nick?”
“No.”
The answer was too quick; the denial just a bit too strong. So, she’d hit a nerve there. Still letting part of her mind stay open to possibilities, Georgie thought it through. Teenage boys and money. The first thing that came to mind was that if money was short, he might be involved with drugs. What else? There was always the possibility of a stand-over
merchant at school. But Nick was bigger than most kids, and he looked strong enough to hold his own. Probably not.
He played sport. Was that a connection? It was just high-school football; nobody would bet on it, so he wouldn’t be taking bribes to throw a game.
She decided to let it go.
“How many are in your family, Nick?”
“How many do you think?”
She had no sense of a male around, or any energy from siblings. “I think it’s just you and your mother. You’re the man of the house.”
“You could have found that out from her.”
“I could have, but I didn’t. I haven’t seen her since you were here yesterday.”
“What about my football…?” He hesitated. “Will I ever play at the Superbowl?”
The answer came immediately, without her having to think, but she instinctively changed it from a flat ‘no’ to let him down gently. “I don’t see that in your future. Sorry, Nick.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “What, just like that? There’s no hope at all?”
“Not that I can see, but the future is never etched in stone.” She was actually certain that he wouldn’t, but he already seemed crushed enough. “I would be delighted for you to prove me wrong.”
“All right then.” She could read the disappointment in his eyes, but he kept going. “What about college? Will I get an offer?”
Yes, the answer came to her, with complete certainty. Football. “Yes, you will get a football scholarship.” She grinned. “That could be conditional on your turning up to training more regularly.”
“And my friend, Caleb? Will he get one too?”
“That I can’t tell you. I’m attuned to you, not him.”
She looked at her watch. “Time’s up, Nick.” Actually he’d gone well over, but she didn’t really mind—until he stood up and held out the pen, resting on his upturned palm.
“See this?”
She looked at it, and then looked up at him. “Your pen?”
“It’s really a recording device. I have video and audio of our session. Everything you said.”
Good Riddance: Book 3 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery Page 2
