Good to Go: Book 1 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery

by Marg McAlister

  "I'm sorry, I can see you’re hitching up to leave. I was just wondering – do you have time to talk to me for just a moment? Please?"

  Georgie looked at her more closely. Kaylene’s eyes were red, as though she'd been crying and then hastily washed her face. She glanced uneasily at the gardener next to her. "Gosh, I don't know, Kaylene. I kind of don't have a lot of time – I'm a little later getting away than I expected, and I’ve got to make it to the vintage rally over in Columbus this morning." She hesitated, torn. She really didn't want to get involved with whatever was going on in Kaylene’s world. On the other hand, she was the one who had told her to listen to her gut.

  "Well if you'll excuse me, I'd better get to work or they'll decide not to pay me." Scott nodded at both of them. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.” He headed off towards the aviary.

  While Georgie hesitated, wondering what to say, Kaylene made the decision for her. "Sorry. I know what it's like when you're trying to get away, and someone comes up to talk. I'll tell you what—if I drive up to the rally tomorrow, can you fit me in?”

  First Scott, now Kaylene again. This fortune-telling thing was running away on her. She’d better figure it out fast. Georgie thought quickly. Would it be better to see Kaylene here, and get away a little late? Then the roar of a motorhome engine distracted her for a moment, and Jerry slowly rolled by, tooting and giving her an exaggerated wave.

  No, she really had to get going. Knowing Jerry, he would grab a suitably central position and start priming people before she even got there. Then he’d tell them to ask his sister to show them the van and come back to him for a special deal.

  No way.

  “But maybe you’re just going there to sell caravans?” Kaylene said, sounding both disappointed and desperate.

  Georgie gave in. “Tomorrow would be great, Kaylene," she said. "What time do you think you'll get there? I’ll watch out for you.”

  “I’ll leave here by eight thirty. Say around 10 AM?"

  "Fine."

  "Thank you. Thank you so much. Darryl, he—” Kaylene hesitated. "I kind of let out that I'd been to see you. I told him what you said and he said he had no idea who this Brian was, unless you meant Brian Payne. He didn’t say all that much, but I could see he was offended. Then I felt bad. Anyway…I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?"

  "Fine." Instinctively, Georgie reached out and seized Kaylene's hand in both of hers. "Hang in there, Kaylene. You’ve got to make up your own mind, not let him get you so confused you don't know what to think. Just think it through, and I'll see you tomorrow."

  “Thank you. So much!” Kaylene looked marginally happier. “Well, I’ll let you get on with things.”

  Georgie stared after her as she hurried away, and then looked down at her hands. They were tingling, both of them. And she had a bad feeling about Kaylene.

  Rosa’s words came back to her, echoing through the years. “It doesn’t matter what you use. The Sight comes from the same place.”

  What kind of switch had she flipped when she first looked into that crystal ball?

  CHAPTER 7

  That afternoon, Georgie was welcomed into the vintage-and-retro crowd like one of their own. “Georgie!! Over here!” was a common cry, as was “Come and see what I’ve done with the trailer/wagon/caravan you sold me!”

  She popped in and out of RVs, her grin growing wider by the moment. This segment of the RV industry was really taking off; there were hundreds of retro trailers and gypsy vans here.

  Oh yeah, she loved vintage and retro. These were her people!

  As the sun went down and she joined a large group around a campfire, wine glass in hand, the questions got more personal.

  “How come you’re not traveling in a motorhome like last year?”

  “Love your outfit, Georgie!”

  “Do the Goodes really come from gypsy stock like your Dad says on TV?”

  “Is that crystal ball for real? Can you tell my fortune?”

  She fended the questions adroitly (because I love vintage, yes I really do have a Gypsy heritage, yes the crystal ball is real and I’ll tell your fortune tomorrow!) That last was said with her fingers crossed, since she still felt like a fraud.

  Jerry made a point of dropping by, of course. He worked the crowd diligently at every RV show or rally.

  “Hey, Sis!” he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and solicitously tucked the bright embroidered shawl more closely around her shoulders. “Enjoy your trip?”

  “Great, thanks.” Her cool tone said: Go away, Jerry.

  “Have you all seen inside Georgie’s Vardo?” At the chorus of yeses he went on, “Didn’t she do a brilliant job with the interior design? She’s got great taste.”

  He sounded genuinely proud and interested, the jerk. Georgie reached up to pat the hand resting on her shoulder and managed to stab him with a diamond-hard fingernail. “You’re too kind, Jerry.”

  He withdrew the hand hastily, but didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t forget we’ll work with any of you to get exactly what you want. Bowtop, Vardo, or a customized retro design for any decade—feel free to talk to me or Georgie over the weekend.” He waved a hand casually. “You all know where to find Georgie, but I’m in the silver Johnny B. Goode motorhome right down near the stalls and displays. Come and see me at any time, day or night.”

  With the emphasis on ‘night’, Georgie thought, not failing to notice the admiring looks from a couple of the younger females.

  Judging her tolerance level perfectly, Jerry winked at her and went on his merry way.

  “That’s really kind of him,” said a vivacious blonde called Tammy, running a finger over her scarlet lips and crossing her knees. She was clad in tight 50s-style pedal pushers and a fitted shirt, which showed off her impressive figure to advantage. “I’m in the market for a smaller trailer. I don’t know whether to stay 50s retro or go gypsy.” She grinned at Georgie. “Why do you call it a caravan?”

  “They’re called caravans in Europe and Australia,” Georgie said. “I think it suits them.”

  Layla, a dark-haired girl sitting next to her, leaned over and said to Georgie in a low voice, “Tell me to butt out if I’m being rude, but do you get a commission for each sale? Or doesn’t it count because you’re family?”

  “We get the same commission as everyone else,” Georgie said. Then she had an inspiration, and whispered back, “But, confidentially, Jerry and I are going head to head at the moment. I’d like to beat him. So pass the word, will you?”

  “Got it.” Layla winked and clinked glasses.

  Georgie could hardly believe her daring.

  She was becoming as devious as Jerry.

  ~~~

  The next morning, Georgie ate breakfast at her laptop while she guiltily did a Google search for How to Read a Crystal Ball.

  Crystal balls, she discovered, could be made of glass, crystal or quartz. Who would have thought? Rosa hadn’t passed on that information.

  She kept skimming web pages, keeping one eye on the time. What, she was supposed to cleanse the ball of any previous energy by smudging it with sage? Rosa hadn’t said anything about that—unless she’d done it herself before handing it over. If she hadn’t, did that mean it was full of Rosa’s energy?

  That could be a good thing, since she didn’t have much idea of what she was doing. With luck some of Rosa’s wisdom might be hanging around the crystal. (Or quartz, or glass.) She read on. She was supposed to gaze into the crystal ball, focus on what she wanted to know and zone out. Well, she had kind of done that before she got Brian’s name, whoever he might be. Which didn’t appear to be much help to poor Kaylene. The thought of her very first customer ever made her glance at her watch. Kaylene would be here in a couple of hours, seeking more insights.

  Help.

  She switched to Internet sites on reading palms and tea leaves, just in case anyone asked. There was a handy palm chart, which she could use as a reference if she printed it off. But not today. The crystal bal
l was enough of a challenge.

  Tea leaves…Georgie frowned, turning her head on the side to view sample tea leaf spreads. Apart from a few blobs that really did look like something, most of the examples on the screen looked like…well, wet tea leaves.

  I am so not cut out for this, she thought in a mild panic.

  Fake it till you make it…

  At eight thirty she gave up and took her laptop back outside to the sales tent next to her caravan. The gates opened at nine. Georgie arranged and re-arranged the colorful brochures featuring all kinds of retro trailers and gypsy vans, and double-checked that her wireless terminal was working so she could take credit card deposits. She printed a sign saying:

  Georgie (8thth Generation Gypsy)

  Fortunes Told 10 am, 12 pm, 2 pm

  Then she realized that telling fortunes would mean that the sales tent would be unattended during those times, so she carefully hand-lettered another saying:

  Back in one hour!

  Jerry would sneer at such inefficiency. He would have fired any sales assistant that didn’t cover the sales table for the entire day.

  Dammit. She should have thought of hiring an assistant. Jerry would undoubtedly be hovering around, ready to jump in and corral her customers if she wasn’t around.

  Double dammit.

  Then Layla came along and saved her. She breezed up twenty minutes before the gates were due to open, read the signs and summed up the situation immediately.

  “Who’s standing in for you when you’re reading fortunes?” and then, reading Georgie’s expression, nodded and answered herself. “Nobody.”

  “I didn’t think,” Georgie said.

  “Your brother—”

  “—will come along and take the sales. I know.” Georgie sighed.

  “Not if I can help it,” Layla said decisively. “Sarah and Jack are coming to talk to you about upgrading to a bigger travel trailer. Sixties era, like their old one. I’ve had a word, and they’ll go through you, not Jerry.”

  Georgie hugged her impulsively. “Thank you! That’s so generous of you.”

  Layla laughed. “I’ve got an ulterior motive. I want my fortune told. Can I be your first appointment if I get one of the girls to mind the shop?”

  “Sorry, I’ve actually got someone driving here from Dayton for the ten o’clock,” Georgie said apologetically. “I thought twenty minutes for each one. Unless you want to do it now?”

  “Done.” Layla pointed at the printed notice. “I’d put your prices on here if I were you. People like to know what they’re paying before they commit.”

  Georgie hadn’t been planning on charging anything, since she was still learning the ropes. “I wasn’t actually going to charge,” she said hesitantly. “I thought, like, a Johnny B. Goode RV Show Special—fortunes told free…?”

  “Nonsense,” Layla said. “You have to charge something. OK, let’s do it, and then we’ll talk about what price you should put on it.”

  Georgie blinked. Johnny B. Goode’s RV Empire could use take-charge sales people like Layla. She’d be an excellent on-road contact.

  Hmmm. Now there was a thought. She filed it away for later, and led Layla inside for her second ever crystal ball reading.

  ~~~

  “I just so love this van,” Layla said, gazing around enviously. She flipped her ebony shoulder-length hair over her shoulder, her dark eyes flitting from one feature to another. “Just look at that darling little carved bird, peeking out from the corner of the shelf.”

  “Thank you,” Georgie said, pleased. “That was my suggestion.” She gave the crystal ball a surreptitious wipe as she removed Rosa’s velvet cloth, and then put it on the table and closed the door, so the interior of the van was dim. For the final touch she lit a candle and placed it on the shelf.

  “Is there anything you especially want to know about?” she asked, lifting the ball in her hands for a moment. Imagine yourself at one with the crystal ball…

  (At one with Rosa? That was a scary thought.)

  Concentrate, Georgie.

  “Well, I’m not really prepared for this,” said Layla, “but I guess I have been wondering what I should do with my life. My family is a bit impatient with me. They think I should settle down and…well, do something ‘useful’. Maybe you can just tell me what you see in store for me?”

  “OK.” Georgie sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, concentrating, and gently placed the ball back on its ornate base. She stared into it. It was still clear… but she could feel herself warming slightly.

  That was interesting. Unless she was just getting panicky.

  Concentrate!

  Then the crystal ball seemed to dull slightly, and the white mist slowly filled it.

  Georgie’s heartbeat slowed.

  On one level she was thinking, Hey, this is working, and on another she was kind of…opening up.

  “You should travel,” she said slowly. “Start by heading east. That’s where you’ll find opportunity.” She felt compelled to add: “Niagara Falls.”

  “East?” Layla had been staring at the ball, but her head came up. “That’s weird. I was looking at maps last night. Right before bed. And I circled Niagara Falls.” She sent Georgie a strange look. “And I didn’t talk about it when we were all together, either.”

  Georgie barely paid attention, as words filled her mind. “You already know where you should go, what to do.” So weird: all she was doing was passing on messages. It was almost as easy as reading it out of a book. “You’ve thought about this. You just need reassurance that you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Will I…find somebody?”

  “Not right away.” How can I know that? “You’ll meet people, but it will take a while to find the right one. Just enjoy yourself.”

  “I had planned to,” said Layla with a wicked grin.

  Georgie heard herself say: “In California. That’s where you’ll meet him. Eventually.” She glanced at Layla and sat back, shocked. Where had that come from? Then even more words spilled from her lips. “You’ve just terminated a relationship with… Danny. No, Davy. Davy?” Suddenly she was unsure of herself, looking at Layla for confirmation.

  Layla’s eyebrows shot up. “His parents called him David. I called him Davy, and they hated it.” She gave a somewhat forlorn smile. “They hated me too. Too bohemian for them. He was only going out with me as an act of rebellion, so I called it quits. He didn’t seem too broken up about it.”

  “But you were.”

  “Yes, I was.” She gave her shoulders a shake. “But that’s over and done. Do you see anything else?”

  Surprisingly, Georgie did. Small things, most of them, but…accurate. The minutes flew by, until the sound of approaching voices had them both checking their watches.

  “It’s after nine! Here they come.” Layla put her hand on Georgie’s. “Thank you—seriously. You are good at this, aren’t you? But you have to charge; people will expect it.”

  “You choose, then. Just write something on the notice.” Quickly, Georgie covered Rosa’s crystal ball and blew out the candle, and followed Layla outside, with a brief backward glance and one last thought.

  Maybe Rosa’s crystal ball would really become her crystal ball.

  CHAPTER 8

  Georgie sifted through the pile of brochures until she found the one she wanted. "Here you go Connie—I think this one would be perfect for you. A brand new retro trailer in the Vagabond style: it's lightweight with a super-easy hitch, and the exact colors you wanted—what do you think?” With a beaming smile she turned the brochure around so Connie could have a look at it.

  Connie, a woman in her early sixties with a long grey braid down her back and sun-worn skin, didn't need to say anything: her gasp of delight and the hand that flew to her mouth said it all. In fact, she actually had suspicious brightness in her eyes. Georgie smiled. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

  Connie took a moment to compose herself, and then drew the brochure closer. "This is
perfect, Georgie. This is exactly like the one my mother had—the one that we travelled around in when I was little." She hesitated a moment, studying the specifications. "How much will this cost? With all the inclusions we were talking about?”

  Georgie thought swiftly. Connie obviously didn't have a lot of savings, and she didn’t mind knocking down her commission a bit. Heck, she was having so much fun, she didn't mind if she got no commission at all. She mentally rolled her eyes, imagining what Jerry would think of that idea.

  "Connie, how about you let me crunch some numbers on this, and get back to you. I promise I'll do the very best deal I can."

  By then Connie had spotted the recommended retail figure, and she didn’t say anything for a moment, obviously weighing up her options. Then she gave a short, sharp nod. "You know what? My house is on the market, and I'm going to live with the kids anyway, sharing my time around—when I'm not on the road, that is. I know you'll do me a good deal, Georgie, but I'm going to have it anyway! How much deposit do you need?"

  Georgie laid a hand on Connie's wrinkled wrist. "How about a hundred dollars?"

  "A hundred dollars? Not five percent?”

  Georgie winked. "Special deal for you, Connie."

  "And you did say that air conditioning is included? Not as an extra?"

  "All included, Connie.” Georgie leaned over and pointed at the cunningly hidden air conditioning vents in the interior shot. “Hidden behind these carvings. We try to keep it all as faithful to the original as possible, while giving you all modern conveniences and still meeting code.”

  "Can I keep this? I want to show my children."

  "You bet." Georgie rapidly walked Connie through the order form, and then turned the page around and presented her with the pen. "There you are, Connie. Your brand-new 1960s retro-look travel trailer. You’ll be able to travel in this comfortably for many years—and have a wonderful time."

  Connie signed with a flourish, her grin as wide as the sky. "And you know what? I'm going to come back to this rally every year, and join in all the fun. You'll see me at every vintage van show around the country."