Georgie Be Good (5 page)

B
ack at the RV park
, several more retro trailers had pulled in and were setting up. People waved to her as she coasted to a stop next to her trailer. 

Just what she needed, she thought. The cheerful retro crew. Layla was already entertaining a circle outside her trailer, drinking coffee from a pale apricot mug and laughing fit to split her sides. 

“I’ll be there in a jiffy,” Georgie called, mounting the steps to her trailer. 

She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it for a moment, waiting for the stress of seeing Sarah and James melt away. Her trailer was her haven; a peaceful oasis in the midst of any storm. 

Georgie gazed around her, taking it in one part at a time. She looked at the comfortable bed at the back of the trailer, with its plump wine-colored cushions, its soft pillows and cozy spread, and then at hand-carved rails on the shelves. A cheerful crimson kettle sat on top of the gleaming oven, and on her polished wooden fold-out table, fat pink blossoms spilled over the edge of a painted pot. 

Looking at the stained glass inserts, she thought about what it meant to her. What was it that called to her so about this little trailer? Why did she feel it was somehow more than just a home on wheels? 

It was all tied up, she mused. Her heritage, going back through the mists of time, back centuries in the past. That unknown ‘something’ out there that she could tap into, for better or for worse. 

No wonder Rosa had been so insistent that she follow in the footsteps of her gypsy forebears. For Rosa, too—crazy old lady that she was—it was not something you could choose. It was something that you
were
.

W
hen she went outside
, Scott had her camp chair set up next to his and a glass of her Margaret River wine waiting. 

“I can do coffee instead, if you prefer,” he said, leaning over and passing her the glass. “But you look as though wine would be a better option.” 

“You can tell how it went by looking at me?” She took the glass and thought briefly that what she really needed was a hug. A big, enveloping, no-holds-barred hug that her father specialized in. 

The father, she reminded herself, who was quite prepared to consign her vintage trailer section to a weedy cracked concrete lot in a down-at-heel area. 

She sipped her wine and cast a glance at Scott over the rim. He looked like the type that could give good bear hugs. She already knew he was strong, after the day he’d caught her plunging down the steps of her trailer back at the Dayton RV park. 

“What?” he said, seeing her speculative gaze. “You look as though you’re sizing me up for something.” 

“Just wondering how I can put the members of my new CBI team to work,” she fibbed. “But we’ll talk about that later. I’d rather plot Jerry’s downfall. Have you heard from Tammy?” 

Layla caught her question in a momentary lull in the buzz of conversation. “Not yet,” she answered for him. “But we’ve sold another trailer. A gypsy bowtop this time.” She waved her coffee cup in the direction of a fine-boned girl with a wild tangle of black hair and a billowy magenta-and-plum striped skirt. “Mags over there wants one. She’s got a line of gypsy and Boho clothing; plans to do the markets.” 

“She has?” Georgie said, diverted. She eyed the girl’s outfit, especially the filmy peasant-style blouse. “I need some more clothes. I like what she’s wearing.” 

“You should see the whole line. I could buy it myself.” 

Georgie looked from Mags, who looked like she was born a gypsy, to Layla in her high-waisted pleated shorts and form-fitting blouse. Tonight she had her hair swept up in a bandana with cute candyman curls spilling over her sparkling eyes. “No, stick with your own look,” she said. “You look great in what you’ve got on.” 

“Yeah,” Layla said immodestly, “I know.” She crossed her knees and jiggled her foot up and down, admiring her scarlet toenails. “But
you
, that’s another story. Mags has that sexy wild gypsy woman look down pat. I’m thinking of what she could do with you.” She grinned, her eyes running over Georgie’s neat French braid and high-cut tank. “You’re looking far too stitched-up right now.” 

“Stitched up?” Georgie frowned at her. “This was deliberate. Sarah told me James is a skeptic. He wasn’t going to open up to me if I looked like Mags over there.” 

“No, but you could fall somewhere in the middle.” She looked at Scott, who was following the conversation with interest. “What do you think, Scott? Should we give Georgie a makeover?” 

Despite herself, Georgie had to confess to a twinge of interest at the prospect. She had always been on the outside looking in; it seemed, at the vintage rallies, when all the girls seemed to be having so much fun with retro styles. And she had enjoyed shopping for the few gypsy-type clothes she owned. 

She looked at Scott too. 

“I have a horrible feeling,” he said, “that this is one of those situations where a man can’t win. If I say yes, you’ll think I don’t like you as you are. If I say no, I’ll be spoiling your fun.” He took a moment to survey Georgie. “But I don’t mind the librarian look. Neat and prim—on the surface.” He grinned.

“If you come out with some hackneyed old line about imagining what it would be like to see all that hair spread out on a pillow,” Layla said, “I’m gonna throw something.” 

“Wouldn’t have entered my head,” Scott said, but the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at Georgie made her suddenly warm. 

“Back to the subject,” said Layla. “A Mags-style makeover. She’s got brilliant ideas; we talked for an hour this afternoon. You get lots of pop-up stores for retro, but not much for gypsy. We could tie her in with the Gypsy trailer market.” She warmed to the theme. “You could showcase her stuff. It would all be good publicity.” 

Publicity. 

Georgie sat forward in her chair, staring at Layla. 

That was
it
. Vintage trailer meets always scored a few pages in the local media, especially if there was a rockabilly festival tied to it. She had planned to make contact with the media and get a few shots for the Johnny B. Goode retro sales material, but she could do more. A lot more. 

“Layla, you’re a genius.” She began to put things together in her mind. “When’s Tammy flying over here?” 

“Wednesday. Her new trailer should get here sometime that day, too. We’ve booked a site for it.” 

Perfect, she thought. They could set up publicity shots with Tammy in her fabulous retro clothes in front of her new trailer, and with Georgie—after a Mags makeover—outside her Vardo trailer. And more
inside
the trailer, with her crystal ball. Her point of difference…

Ideas spilled into her mind. She and her team could feed the reporter all kinds of information about not only their local distributors, but their specialized vintage and retro division back in the huge Johnny B. Goode RV Empire. They would say that all their buyers got special treatment, because Johnny B. Goode treated
all
his clients like VIPs, whether they were buying a tiny retro trailer or an Extreme RV worth a million dollars. 

“Perfect,” she said aloud, grinning to herself. 

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on in your mind,” Layla said, “I’m going to explode.” 

Georgie came back to the real world to find both Layla and Scott staring at her. 

“I know how to sabotage Jerry’s plans once and for all and give the vintage trailer division a major boost,” she said, grinning at them. “Let’s brainstorm.”

E
arly the next morning
, Sarah West called. She sounded both apologetic and resolute. 

“Georgie, we’ve decided not to go any further with this. We just can’t handle it. Grace is sick with this stomach flu, and she needs me right now. Rachel can’t deal with any more either.” There was a moment’s hesitation, and she went on, “James told me what you said about it being one of the three—Damian, Cory or Rachel. I’d believe it of Cory, but not the other two. And James, he—well, he can’t believe it’s any of them.” She added hurriedly, “Not that he’s saying he doesn’t believe
you
.”

Georgie jumped in before she went any further. “Sarah, stop. You don’t have to explain. This is completely up to you, and James.”

“But you said that we were why you came. I feel awful.” 

“You mustn’t. I’m here for the vintage rally too; I probably would have come anyway.” 

Sarah apologized a few more times, and then rang off. Georgie stood at the door of her trailer, looking into the distance, thinking about the Wests. Sarah might have rung to say it was over, but she was wrong. 

Georgie knew, beyond any doubt, that she would be in contact again. And she didn’t need a crystal ball to confirm it. 

Layla sauntered over, sunny in a buttercup-colored swing skirt and a cotton top with cap sleeves. This day’s hairdo was a bouncy ponytail, set high, with a perky bow. “You’re looking all very mystical standing up there, staring at nothing. Have you had another revelation?” 

“Nope,” Georgie said, relegating the Wests to the back of her mind for the moment. “But I do have a lot of things to take care of today. Starting with Mags in half an hour to plan my makeover. Want to come?” 

“Try to keep me away.”

Georgie looked down at Layla and sighed. “You’ve done it again. I haven’t even thought about breakfast yet, and look at you. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?” 

“Huh.” Layla dismissed that with a click of her fingers. “No time at all. I plan what I’m wearing the night before. And I have three or four hairstyles that I can put together quickly. 50s styles are great; you can hide a lot under a bandana or a headscarf.” 

“Hmmm.” Georgie thought about the gypsy equivalent. Headscarves, check. And Mags had been wearing some silver doohickeys in her hair. She would have to find out about those. 

She was going to have some fun here.

T
wo hours later
, Georgie was back at her trailer with three enormous bags of clothes and scarves and the silver thingies to braid into her hair. Layla brought up the rear with two more bags.

“I can’t believe I spent so much money,” Georgie said, heaving her spoils into the trailer. “And where on earth am I going to put all this?” 

“You’ve got a big badass truck outside,” Layla pointed out. “Half empty. Toss out some of those brochures and outfit it with those pullout drawers. A closet on wheels.” 

Georgie looked at Layla with respect. “You’re full of great ideas.” She sat on the bed and began to inspect her new clothes. “Check out this skirt. Just look at the colors! I love it…and this blouse to go with it.” She held it up against herself. “Do you think the neck is too low, though?” 

“It has a drawstring; it’s adjustable—perfect for any occasion.” Layla dug through the bag she was holding. “Here, this is one of my faves. You have to wear this for the photo shoot.” She held up a rose fashioned from crimson silk, with tendrils of dusky pink gauze fluttering from it. There were several smaller roses to go with it, designed to be woven into a complicated braid. “Mags has amazing ideas for hair with these things.” 

“I want to wear it right now.” Georgie laughed, happy but a bit self-conscious. “What’s happening to me? I never used to care about clothes.” 

“Nothing wrong with being a late starter. You’ve been all tied up with that Johnny B. Goode RV Empire stuff and going to college,” Layla observed. “Now it’s time for the real you.” 

“Well, the real me had better get a move on.” A glance at her watch confirmed that it really was as late as she’d thought. “I’ve got to meet the reporter from the local rag now. Except she’s some social media guru too. Half their stuff is online, she tells me.” Georgie looked guiltily at Layla. “That means I’m leaving you in charge of sales here again, and we’ve got a few people to talk to. Sorry about that.” 

“Yes, apologize because I’ve got the best job in the world.” Layla grinned at her. “People would run over me to get this job. I get to live full time in my darling little retro trailer, and dress up every day, and oh yeah, you pay me to do it!” 

“Glad you feel that way, because after this I have meetings with our local distributors and then I’m making contact with a new designer who has sent me some brilliant ideas…” Georgie shoved everything aside and slid off the bed. “Do I look gypsyish enough for a media interview, but corporate enough to run a business?” 

“Tricky combination, but I think you pass,” Layla said, running an eye over Georgie’s charcoal mid-calf skirt, soft black leather boots and silk blouse in shimmering shades of old gold. “Enough color, but that dark skirt could go anywhere.” She nodded at the hair, left long but caught up over one ear. “The hair works too.” 

“Off I go then. First salvo in the Deep-Six-Jerry campaign.” Leaving Layla in charge, Georgie swung into her truck and gunned the engine, waved at Scott who was working over near his truck camper, and rumbled out of the gate. Behind her, in the rear vision mirror, she could see the growing sea of retro trailers and vintage trailers, gearing up for another meet. 

Hers, she thought. Vintage was hers, and she wasn’t letting Jerry push it aside.