“Cushy?” Without saying anything, I knew that was where Paul had been taken for his sentence.
“Yeah.” Queenie’s nose curled. “It’s a fancy one like the one Martha Stewart was in. The criminals there didn’t kill anyone. They just broke the law,” She shrugged.
“Betts and her church friends go to minister to the men in prison each week. They even take some baked goods.” Dottie smiled. “You know, good will and all that stuff.”
“That’s why the Bible thumpers will be perfect to bake the desserts for the fundraiser. Good will and stuff.” Queenie nodded a few times. “So, we’ve got the sweets covered, we can get everyone in the campground to cook some sort of camping food like we do once a week.” She nodded towards Dottie who nodded back. Apparently, they knew what each other was talking about.
“Dottie is going to get the residents of the campground to clean up a little. Abby will go to the supply store and do all that social media hashtag thingy,” she continued.
“What am I going to do?” I looked between them to see if they had any sage advice before I got in front of Betts.
“You’re going to come up with a business plan on how you can get Happy Trails looking like that brochure. Research how much sod costs and getting the lake cleaned up.”
“The laundry machines fixed?” I nodded, but they all frowned.
“Nah, we got The Laundry Club.” They tsked and we all broke out in laughter.
“Hashtag Happy Trails Campground in the Hashtag Daniel Boone National Park in Hashtag Normal, Kentucky will be ready for the hashtag summer season in a couple of weeks. Hashtag new campground. Hashtag beach party. Hashtag party,” Abby said as she typed. “Hashtag grand re-opening.”
I couldn’t help but give a nervous laugh because this was going to go down.
FOUR
On my way back from the laundry mat, I was finding myself humming some songs and tapping my finger on the wheel of the camper. I didn’t know what it was, but those three women made me feel better about my circumstances than I’d felt in a long time.
Quickly that feeling fell back into despair when I turned back into the campground and the reality of work to get the campground looking like the brochure was laid out right in front of me.
I drove my camper into the spot Dottie had assigned me to, though I should get what spot I wanted. Regardless, I was living my worst nightmare and how on earth was I going to pull off a fundraiser and make good on the things that I made sound so amazing?
The thought of a nap sounded good and falling asleep to the TV sounded better. The TV was hidden behind a little panel next to the kitchen on the wall. I pushed the panel door back and pulled the kitchen table out from the wall. I was too tired to move and pull anything else out of the walls, so I just sat down on the bench and laid my head down with my arm extended out while I held the remote and pushed the button.
Nothing happened. I sat up and pushed the on button harder. Nothing. I got up and looked at the TV. It was plugged in but not working. Go figure.
I sighed and looked out the kitchen window. The sun beating down on the lake made the lake look even dirtier.
“I better go look at the lake,” I muttered, giving up on a nap and threw the TV remote control on the table and resigning to the fact that I was never going to watch TV again.
There was a note that was taped to the outside of the door.
“Fix the Dew in the vending machine,” was scribbled on a piece of paper. I crumbled it up and threw it inside the camper.
Careful not to step in anything, I kept my eyes to the ground as I walked over to the lake. No doubt that it was pretty nice in its heyday and I’d longed to have seen it because it was turning out to be a beautiful day. Laying on a beach with the sun beating down on me, was something I needed.
I walked around the lake and was delighted in the small patches of grass that were popping up. There was a little hope for that lush Kentucky Bluegrass, even though the patches did resemble a thistle bush. I wasn’t going to let that dash my hopes and walked over to the wooden dock.
There was no sugar coating it. The dock had more buckled boards than flat ones. Rusted nails popped out of almost every single board. With each step closer to the edge, the more it creaked under my feet.
There was a man walking around the dirt and looking down.
“Welcome to Normal,” he chuckled in a country accent that I wouldn’t even classify as southern. He wore a one-piece blue zip up overalls and was stabbing a piece of paper with one of those trash picker uppers. Not that I’d know what it was called, but his laughter made me wonder if he was laughing at me standing there on the rickety wooden dock with my fingers pinching my nose. The ends of straggly hair made a perfect skirt around his head from underneath his filthy baseball cap.
“This isn’t normal,” I groaned, careful not to open my mouth in fear some sort of airborne
funk was going to seep into my lungs and then to be sick in this godforsaken place would just be the cherry on top of what was turning out to be a really crummy life. “I guess you’re Henry.”
“The one and only.” He tee-hee’d and put the tip of the poker in the garbage bag. “I’m thinkin’ you’re Mae West.” He walked closer and was a little more scragglier than he appeared from a distance. He had a big nose and wide smile that exposed the missing top-two front teeth.
“The one and only.” I put my hand out and shook his.
It was becoming obvious that Dottie Swaggert had called everyone she knew after I met her this morning and Normal was gossipier than I figured.
“It looks like we’ve got us a mess here, Henry.” I looked out over the lake.
I pointed to the broken wooden sign that said the pond was catch and release.
“I’m thinking I might catch an illness if I tried to fish in there.” I joked.
“Ain’t been fish in that water for a long time. This lake’s been as useful as buttons on a dishrag.” His country accent came back in spades. He stood next to me and tapped the toe of his worn out brown boot on one of the popped up wooden boards that was one of many that needed to be hammered down or just replaced, but where I was going to get that money?
“Shocker,” I muttered in a sarcastic tone and looked out over the green sludge layer. “Do you know when you’re going to be able to take a look at the laundry room?”
“Oh, I’ve looked at them plenty of times. It’s the parts that I keep looking at that don’t come for free,” he said. “I’m not sure if Dottie told you, but there’s barely enough in the budget to keep the vending machine in Mountain Dew.”
“And that seems to be a priority around here.” I rolled my eyes, wondering if he was the one who taped the note to my door. “I’d like to see if we can get bottled water in there too.”
It was such a simple suggestion that I knew was going to meet with some hesitation.
“Around here, we don’t like to pay for bottled water when we can just turn on the tap and get it from there.” He shrugged. “Not having bottled water is what I call rich people’s problems and between you and me, we ain’t got those issues.”
I pinched a smile and bit my tongue, looking over the lake and wondering if that was the tap water they were drinking.
The sound of tires spitting up gravel underneath them caught our attention and both of us turned at the same time, which didn’t turn out to be a good idea.
“Henry!” I screamed as if he were going to be able to help me, but he was too busy trying to save himself from the crumbling dock.
With a big splash, both of us were waist deep in the musky, green water drenched.
“I guess I can fix the dock.” Henry wiped away something unrecognizable from his eyes.
“Why?!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and started to cry as I looked up to the sky.
I’d not even noticed the black car had stopped right in front of us and there were two men standing in front of us, on dry land, in blue suits and sunglasses. One was taller than the other.