by Clay, Verna
Max gave them his most charming smile and reached for a newspaper on a nearby empty table—THE OASIS GAZETTE. It was half the height of a regular newspaper and consisted of four pages. It took Max all of one minute to scan the headlines and read about Jimmy's Jackpot Travel Line adding another van to his fleet of one, with additional trips added to nearby casinos and a once per month grand trip to Las Vegas. He skipped the Quilters' Circle update and info about an upcoming Church Bake Sale, but noted the advertisements by local businesses. He moved on to the classified section and read the one help-wanted ad. Seems there was an opening with a local internet marketer looking to expand his business, but the job didn't involve sales. Yeah, right. In the miscellaneous wanted ads the local mechanic was looking to buy used motorcycles or motorcycle parts. He turned to the back page and chuckled. There was a picture of Princess receiving an award for serving the best burgers in Oasis. Max laid the paper aside and watched a few people leave the diner and some more enter. Most of the folks called greetings to each other. Max couldn't imagine his grandfather in the diner. What the hell was the old man's connection to this place? A few more minutes passed while he tried to remember if his grandfather had ever mentioned Oasis or Desert Princess Trailer Park. He didn't think so.
Ms. Armstrong walked to his table carrying a plate. With a smile that showcased how pretty her teeth were against her dark coloring, she set his lunch in front of him. He lifted the bun off his burger and frowned. There was lots of lettuce, two tomato slices, mayonnaise, and both buns were toasted. His waitress was already walking away when he called, "Ms. Armstrong, I think you confused my order with someone else. This is not what I ordered."
Calmly she returned to his table. "If you don't like your burger, Max, I suggest you take it up with management. You know where Princess lives." She gave him that pretty smile with big dimples and he watched her sashay away. She had a great sashay.
Max grinned as he took a bite of the best burger he'd had in ages. He decided Ms. Armstrong might prove to be a cute distraction while he paid his dues in Oasis.
Before leaving the diner, he waved his waitress back over. He could practically see steam coming off her head as she approached.
He said, "Warm my coffee, please, and put it in a to-go cup." He couldn't resist adding, "Thanks, hon. I'll meet you at the register."
A few minutes later, as he walked back to the trailer park, he chuckled and took a sip of his coffee, and gagged. Leaning over he spit out a mouthful of grinds and wished he hadn't left such a big tip.
Chapter 5: Greeting Letter???
Max rolled over, glanced at the clock and groaned. It was midnight and he'd lain in bed for two hours trying to sleep. The first hour had been accompanied by retribution scenarios for his prickly neighbor. He'd thought of everything from unhooking her sewer line to doubling her rent. Of course, they were just thoughts that he would put no action to, but it was fun envisioning how she'd come back at him. And if there was one thing he was sure of, she would get her revenge. The next hour of sleeplessness had been caused by Piggy's yipping. The dog needed a muzzle.
Rolling from under the silk sheets of his king-size, extra-tall mattress, he padded to the kitchen. Thank god for RV pop-outs. It made his home-away-from-home as large as a small apartment. He riffled through the fridge and popped the top on a beer.
The sound of a car and the flash of headlights through his closed front drape caught his attention. Turning the overhead light out, he pulled his drape back and sipped a long draw on his beer. The interior light in witch-woman's car was on as she exited her vehicle. She left the driver door ajar and opened the door to the back seat. Bending over, she lifted a kid into her arms and carried him into her trailer.
Max watched the lights turn on inside her home and a few minutes later she came back to the car to grab her purse and close the doors. After she reentered her trailer, he continued to watch until the lights went out about five minutes later. Max grinned, swigged another gulp of beer, tossed the remainder in the sink, and headed to bed.
* * *
Pilar stepped outside to enjoy the early morning. No matter how late she went to bed, she always rose early to greet the new day. As usual, the encounter with her ex the night before had been unpleasant. Of course, she always tried to appear congenial in front of Willie, but she wasn't always successful. Also, her boy wasn't stupid. On the way home he'd said, "Mom, Dad's not such a bad guy. He's just got a lot on his mind. I don't pay much attention to his bad moods."
Pilar had sighed. When had her son become so observant? "You're right, sweetie; it just makes me mad that he never has time to take you to baseball games at the stadium."
Willie patted her arm. "Really, mom, it's okay. Someday you and I will go and have a blast watching the Diamondbacks at Chase Field."
Her son's sweet words stabbed Pilar's heart with love and she said, "We certainly will. You know, don't you, that we need to double up on practice. Summer goes by fast. We've got to hone those catches and throws so you're ready for the team when school starts."
Now, drinking her morning coffee and enjoying the golden sky breathing life into distant mountains, she inhaled the clear air and closed her eyes. Live in the moment. Those words had carried her through a nasty divorce and she whispered them over and over.
A sound distracted her and she turned to see her cocky neighbor exit his luxurious motorhome. The sight of him grated on her nerves. Before moving to Oasis, after her divorce, she'd worked in the real estate field selling overpriced condos to men just like him. Men who seemed to think the world owed them something. Men who thought they could take, take, take, and never give anything in return.
"Good morning, Pilar," the jerk said as he walked toward her. Thank goodness her new fence prevented him from walking into her tiny space.
She didn't reply.
He said, "I have to tell you that the to-go cup of coffee you gave me was the worst I've ever tasted. You really need to enhance your coffee making skills."
In spite of herself, Pilar grinned. Setting her coffee down, she reached for her rake.
Her neighbor chuckled. "I saw that smile."
She took a few swipes with the rake and replied, "My smile had nothing to do with you. I always smile in the morning because I live in the most beautiful place on earth."
A snort brought her up short and she stopped raking and leaned against the pole. "What? You don't agree?"
Max said easily, "I don't agree. I've traveled the world and seen places that literally steal your breath away."
"Then why aren't you living in one of those places? In fact, why are you living in a place you obviously hate?"
The man didn't answer her question. He asked one of his own. "So, please tell me why this place is so beautiful. I see a lot of dirt and…" He hesitated before finishing his sentence. "…poverty."
Pilar didn't take offense because she suddenly felt sorry for him. In a soft voice she said, "I see wonderful neighbors, a beautiful sunrise, and..." She paused before finishing with, "…my home." Without a backward glance, she turned and said, "Have a happy day, Mr. Rutherford."
* * *
Willie giggled. Someone was tickling him. He knew it was his mom, of course. She liked to wake him up by tickling under his arms.
"Wake up sleepy monster. I've got the early shift at work today."
Playfully, Willie pretended to get up, but then pounced on his mom, tickling her stomach. She laughed and jumped off the bed. "You've got ten minutes to get dressed."
Willie stretched and looked at the poster on his ceiling. His mom was really cool about letting him do stuff to his bedroom. The poster was of Nolan Ryan throwing one of his famous pitches. Willie sighed and started to dream of being in the major leagues, but then he remembered he had to hurry and get dressed. With a grin at Nolan, he clamored out of bed and grabbed the clothes his mom had laid out. She always left the selection of his baseball cap up to him. He grabbed his newest one that they'd found at a garage sa
le—an Angels cap—and headed for the front of their trailer. The kitchen curtains were open. "Wow, Mom, we got a new fence!" He stuck his face in the window. "And that's a fancy RV!"
His mother said, "Do you like the fence?"
"Yeah. It's just like the one you showed me in the catalogue." He pointed to the RV. "Have you been inside it?"
His mom made a squinty face and turned around to butter toast. "No, but I met the owner. He'll be managing the park while Princess is on vacation."
"Is he nice?"
"Ah, the jury's still out on that."
"Huh?"
"That's just an expression that means I don't know." Willie heard something strange in his mother's voice and wondered what was wrong with the guy. Usually, his mom liked everyone. Was he really ugly? But then he decided that wouldn't be the reason for her tone. She always said looks didn't matter; what mattered was a person's heart.
After breakfast, Willie's mom walked him a couple of streets over to stay with Desi while she worked. Even though Desi was old, he was cool. He even tossed a baseball so Willie could practice, although sometimes they had to quit when Desi's arthritis acted up.
Willie and Desi waved goodbye to his mom and Desi said, "I got something for you, young lad."
Desi called Willie "young lad" all the time, so he was used to it. "What's that, Desi?"
"It's on the kitchen table. Run see."
Willie hastened inside Desi's trailer. Desi had already lived in the trailer park a long time when Willie and his mom moved there. His trailer was old, but it was bigger than most of the others in the park. Willie's mom said it was a double-wide.
As soon as Willie entered the kitchen he spied the pack of baseball cards. "Oh, yeah!" he shouted. He grabbed the cards and ran back outside to where Desi was sitting in his rocker.
Desi said, "When I saw that pack o' cards at Dotty's Dime Store, I said to meself, 'them cards is meant for Willie'."
Willie hugged Desi. "Thank you, Desi. Should I open them now?"
"You betcha. But remember, we gotta treat 'em real careful. You never know when you got a collectable one. Pull that table close and run in the house for a towel to wipe it off so we can spread the cards out. And don't forget to bring the binder so we can put them in it."
"Sure thing, Desi."
For a long time, Willie and Desi studied the new cards, placing them oh so carefully in the pockets of the binder, and talked baseball.
Desi said, "Okay, young lad, I'm feeling my oats today, so you better grab your mitt and run in the house and get mine."
"Okay!"
A few minutes later, Desi was tossing balls to Willie in the road in front of his double-wide. Willie never threw the ball too hard at Desi. After all, he was pretty old. They tossed a lot of balls, but Willie could always tell when Desi was starting to tire. He was about to say he'd tossed enough—but really he could toss all day—when a tall man walked toward them.
Willie had just caught the ball when Desi said, "Hold up, young lad. Let's see who this is."
The man smiled and said, "Hello. I'm Max Rutherford. I'm…ah…the new manager of the park for awhile. I thought I'd walk the area to get familiar with it."
Desi said, "Nice to meet you. Just call me Desi, and this young lad is Willie."
The man reached his hand and shook Desi's then he reached to shake Willie's.
Willie asked, "Are you the guy with the fancy RV? I live in the trailer with the fence and you weren't here when I left to go to my dad's."
"I got here yesterday and I'm parked nose-to-nose with a mobile with a white picket fence. Guess we're neighbors."
"Do you like baseball?"
"I like it a lot, but I'm usually too busy to watch the games. I occasionally go to Yankee Stadium in New York, though."
Willie's eyes widened. "You mean you actually go to the ballpark. Like sit in the bleachers; not just watch it on TV."
The man laughed. "Yes."
"Wow! You wanna toss some balls?"
"Perhaps later. Like I said, I'm the new manager and I need to familiarize myself with the park."
* * *
Max could see disappointment in the boy's eyes, but he really needed to scope out the park and its residents. He had returned to Princess's trailer the day before to retrieve all of her paperwork. A cursory examination had revealed that three residents were habitually late paying their rent. The one with the worst history was someone he had yet to meet. Her ledger card had simply been printed with the heading, LILAC. Max didn't know if that was a first name, last name, or something else. He did know, however, that she was sometimes over a month late in paying her space rent.
Strolling around the four dirt roads making up the park, he turned into one with a hand painted sign proclaiming it to be Tulip Drive. As if a tulip could survive in this desolate wasteland. Searching the faded space numbers painted on rocks in front of each lot, he finally located number 303, the home of "Lilac." What the…? The dwelling wasn't even a trailer or an RV, it was one of those oversized camper shells that fit over the bed of a truck and extended above the cab. Only there was no truck. Although it was the type with sleeping quarters, a kitchen, and a bathroom, Max wondered how the hell anyone could live in a camper fulltime.
The door to the camper opened as he walked past and an elderly woman with a purple streak on one side of white hair exited. What's with these women and their colorful hair?
She waved at him. "Young man! Howdy! Are you the new manager?"
Max paused. "Yes, ma'am, I am. Are you Lilac?"
"That's what my mama named me. Goodness, ain't you a looker. If'n I was fifty years younger, you'd be on my radar. Course I had my wild days and I'm glad they're behind me. So, what do you think 'bout our little slice o' heaven. It don't git much bettr'n this. Why I been livin' here twenty years and I never git tired o' starin' at the Weaver Mountains." She waved her hand to encompass the view in front of her.
Although Max heartily disagreed with her assessment, he said, "Yes, ma'am. Ah, is Lilac your first name?"
"Oh, yes. My mama loved the color lilac so she went against family members who wanted to name me Gertrude. I can't tell you how happy that makes me. Can you imagine a woman with purple streaked hair named Gertrude? When I was growin' up, all the rooms in my house was painted some variation of the color." She motioned toward the area in front of her abode. "As you can see, I have a fondness for the shade myself."
Max scanned the profusion of flowers, some real, but mostly plastic, overflowing pots of every size. Again, he simply said, "Yes, ma'am." He was wondering if he should broach the subject of late rent payments, but decided to postpone the encounter for the time being. In fact, another option popped into his mind. He would type a letter introducing himself as the new manager and address the issue of late payments. He would inform the tenants that a twenty-five dollar late fee was going into effect the first of next month. For the folks living in this park, every dollar appeared necessary, so he figured that would probably solve the problem.
Max said a polite goodbye and had walked a few paces when Lilac called, "My last name is Hughes. Mama used to say we was related to Howard Hughes, but she could never prove it."
Max chuckled to himself. Lilac called again, "Have you met Pilar and Willie?" He turned. "Yes, I have."
Lilac placed her hands on her generous hips. "She ain't married anymore. Are you married?"
"No, ma'am."
With a huge grin and wink, Lilac said, "I think the two of you would hit-it-off."
Max couldn't believe the woman's boldness. "Ma'am, I'm only here for a few months and I'm not looking to hit-it-off with anyone. I just want to do my job and leave."
Unfazed by his reprimand, Lilac clucked, "Well, the magic of moonlight 'round here sometimes waylays the best of plans."
Max ignored her remark and continued strolling around the park.
In the early afternoon as he sat at the dining table in the pop-out section of his RV typing an "ATTENTION R
ESIDENTS" letter on his laptop, he looked up to see Pilar walking home from work wearing her diner uniform with its cute apron. She walked past her picket fence and a few minutes later returned with her son. She glanced at Max's RV, but he wasn't sure if she could see inside with the afternoon glare. Willie tossed a baseball into the air, catching it. Later, Pilar exited her trailer wearing jeans and a tank top. She had a nice rack.
Max jerked his eyes back to her kid who was standing in the roadway. He didn't need unbidden images gaining a foothold in his mind. Pilar walked into the road and started tossing the ball back and forth with Willie. She was wearing a mitt that she kept adjusting. Max decided it was probably too big for her hand.
Forcing himself to continue writing the letter he hoped would encourage residents to pay their rent on time, he couldn't make himself concentrate. Finally, he jumped up to close the drape, but not before a quick glance at Pilar. She was staring at his RV and they made eye contact. Quickly he jerked the drape closed.
* * *
Two days later, Max brought the letter he'd prepared to Princess's trailer for her to read. She gave it a cursory glance, and said, "Help me get this suitcase outside. Gator or maybe Hank is taking me to the airport in Phoenix. My flight leaves this afternoon for Hawaii. Oh, and by the way, I suggest you have a seat while I tell you about Gator and Hank."
Max set her bulky suitcase on the deck outside her door and frowned. He wanted to discuss her reaction to the letter, not the handymen. He sat down and listened while she pulled dead blooms off a wildly growing vine. When she finished her disclosure, Max was literally speechless. Finally, he said, "Ah, ah, thanks for telling me." He decided to change the subject. "Well, what about the letter? Do I have your permission to send it out?"
Princess plopped her tiny frame on a deck chair. "Max, I turned the running of this park over to you. You don't need my approval for anything."
Max stood. "I'm only here for six months because of some harebrained scheme of my grandfather's. This is your park and it will be returned to you. I don't want–"
