“Team up?”
Gloria tilted the flask her way; Lucky shook her head, numb. “I’m getting sick of this place, sick of this life, ya know? And—and seeing you, thinking about John, as bad as it was with him, is reminding me of some big dreams I had, once. It just seems there’s only one way to make those dreams come true at this stage in my life, and that’s the fast track. If you were raised by John Armstrong, then you know what I mean by that.”
Lucky clutched the crucifix with her fingers, then pulled on it. She wanted the chain to break, but it held fast.
“The people who live at the camp, most of them are older. Makes me wonder if there’s any way to skim a little extra off them without anyone getting suspicious. You know? But without a partner, it’s hard to do. Except now, here ya are. John Armstrong’s daughter, with a fast hand at shortchanging. I’m sure he taught you a few other things, too. Right?” she pressed.
This time when Gloria passed the flask to Lucky, she took it, and let a big gulp burn and sear its way down her esophagus. “He sure did.”
“So whaddya say? Got any ideas on how we can pair up and make some fast cash?”
Lucky hated it, the way that bubbly, excited feeling surfaced against her will and started coursing through her veins again. The way she suddenly felt alive, the way she suddenly believed she had the chance to be something, to be someone. The way even though she knew Gloria was not her mother, she had wanted to be loved by her for so long, she could do nothing but clutch at this chance.
Picked up off some church steps.
She closed her eyes, briefly. She was nothing but trash.
“I’ve got tons of ideas, Gloria. There’s always a brighter future ahead.” It was true, wasn’t it? There just might be.
* * *
A few mornings later old Al Hinch, who lived in trailer number 11, peered at Gloria and Lucky with his rheumy eyes and frowned as they stood on the deck of his trailer. “You’re sure?” he said.
“?’Fraid so, Al,” Gloria said. “Sarah here, my niece, just graduated from architecture school, and I asked her to come have a look at everyone’s trailers round here as a favor.” Lucky frowned now, too, because that wasn’t exactly what they had discussed. Architecture was too vague; Gloria was supposed to say structural engineering but had clearly forgotten. Al didn’t seem to notice. He lived alone with a rakish dog named Mutt, and the day before he had smiled and waved hello when Lucky passed his trailer. Now Lucky was grateful she was wearing sunglasses, because she couldn’t meet his eyes. But she needed to do this, needed to work with Gloria a little so she could figure out whether she could trust her with the lottery ticket. So if she asked her to go cash it in for her, it wouldn’t feel like she was trusting a stranger with the most important thing in her life.
“We’re going around and checking out everyone’s place. And Sarah and me are going to do the work on our own, so you’ll get a deal on materials and labor. Six hundred, flat rate. Pay us cash and we won’t charge you no taxes.”
A sigh. “All right then. I’ll get you the money by the end of the week.”
“Sounds good, Al. And we’ll get started on fixin’ your skirting ventilation right soon.”
They moved along to the next trailer, knocked on the door, poked around underneath it, and declared it to be fine—even though it was in the exact same shape as Al’s had been. Two more trailers were given the all-clear before they found two more in a row with the same supposed skirt ventilation issue.
It took a few days to get through all the trailers on the property, and only two residents started arguing and said they were going to call in their own professional to take a look. “They won’t bother,” Gloria told Lucky. “And they’ll get worried when they see all their neighbors getting the fix-ups. They’ll do it. Trust me, I know these people. Honestly, what a fabulous idea. You’re brilliant, girl.”
“Thanks,” Lucky said, and felt a dull pleasure at the compliment.
“Want to have dinner with me? I’m no chef, but I got a lasagna in the freezer and some beer in the fridge. Maybe even a little vino. Yeah?”
“Oh. That would be nice.” Lucky thought of the wilting bag of lettuce in her fridge. “I could bring a salad…”
“Nah, no need. Tomato sauce is a vegetable, right? Why don’t you just come sit on down here on the porch while I pop it in the oven? We’ve had a long day, we need refreshments.”
Gloria’s front deck looked out at the horse pasture. Lucky sat and watched the animals in the fading light. The pony was trotting back and forth on one side of the field while one of the little girls who lived in the trailer park hung on the fence and watched her. The three horses were hunkered around the hay pile.
Lucky heard one of the floorboards creak on the porch. Gloria was back, a bottle of Blue Moon in each hand, an orange slice shoved into the top of each one. “Ya see that, I got fancy for ya. It’s not often I have a guest.”
Gloria popped the orange slice inside the bottle and took a swig, and Lucky did the same. “Saw them do this at a restaurant once, thought it tasted pretty good when I tried it,” Gloria said.
Later, Gloria brought the lasagna out on plastic plates with a floral pattern around the edges, plus paper napkins and knives and forks for them to eat with on their laps. She also had a dusty bottle of wine she said had been a Christmas gift from someone who used to live at the camp. “Been saving it,” she said. “But I never have company.”