A few weeks later Abby was going to Norwalk’s Education Barn to buy a few birthday presents for the kids’ friends when she remembered that Leigh’s mom, Claudine, was living in the neighboring trailer park. She looked through the sea of Winnebagos for her unforgettable Rolling Stone. There were twenty or so parked in a grid-like pattern. Situated on an asphalt lot behind a chain link fence hundreds of yards from Route 1, the so-called “park” was devoid of grass and trees. It wasn’t pretty, but it appeared orderly and safe. Claudine’s Winnebago turned out to be easy to find. It was clean while most of the others were in desperate need of a power wash. Their exteriors were tainted by various dulling shades of rust—they reminded Abby of middle school science projects.
The Rolling Stone was parked on the edge of the lot in between two others. The thirty-by-ten-foot retro vehicle had tinted windows and was decorated with a rainbow array of gradually thinning blue stripes. The pattern was broken only by the name written in a sharply slanted italic next to its door. The large front windshield glowed—a silver cushioned sun breaker had been pulled across it.
Claudine sat under a mesh pop-out tent that reminded Abby of the one she had on her 1970s-era Barbie Country Camper. That camper, similar to the Scooby Doo Mystery Machine, was orange, yellow, and decorated with a rainbow and cloud design. Its interior was hot pink and orange with faux wood paneling and two pop-outs: one a tent, and the other a table for dining. Advertised as “the swinginest camper on wheels!”, it personified cool to the preteen set. To Abby, the idea of taking home with her when she traveled and eating s’mores for dessert every night was ideal. Living in a home without wheels certainly didn’t offer such a carefree lifestyle.
Of course, Claudine’s Rolling Stone parked in an asphalt parking lot looked nothing like Abby’s fantasy of life with Barbie, Ken, and a few equally gorgeous friends. But she did look settled. Claudine had set up a small living area under the mesh canopy with an outdoor green grass rug, folding furniture, and flowering plants. It was modest, especially in comparison to her daughter’s excessive outdoor design, but still tidy and attractive. She was sipping what appeared to be lemonade and reading the New York Post.
Abby looked at the time and saw that she had an hour before she needed to be back in Cannondale for elementary school pick-up, so she walked toward Claudine. There was a metal chain link fence separating the trailer park from the local stores’ parking lot. Abby saw no gate so she called to Claudine from behind it. Looking up from her paper suspiciously, Claudine eyeballed her before recognition hit. Once she realized it was Abby, a huge smile spread across her face.
“Oh, Abby!” she said. “I was hoping to see you again. Thanks for getting me into this place. If it wasn’t for you, I think I’d be back in Pennsylvania.”
“I’m so glad,” Abby said. “You look settled already. Are you enjoying living in this area?”
“Oh, it’s just great!” she said. “Got a minute? Want some lemonade? The entrance gate is next to the manager’s trailer. It’s about forty feet that way. Hard to see from here. Ring the bell and he will let you in.”
Abby found the gate and joined Claudine under the tent. As she poured Abby a glass of lemonade, Claudine continued, “This is the safest trailer park. The management screens the people they let in. The day you sent me over here, I was interviewed and the manager ran a background check on me. I like that. And I love my neighbors. Frank is a retired mechanic—he lives in the sage-green camper on my right. He’s a local guy. Fran and Bob live on the other side of me in the mustard-yellow camper. They’re both retired schoolteachers from Indiana. The gal in front of me has lived here for fifteen years. Sally. She was a nurse. Haven’t met everyone else, but like who I have met so far.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Abby said. “Do you remember the Barbie Country Campers? You’re reminding me of Barbie.”
“I do remember those,” she said. “It was one of Leigh’s favorites,”
“Have Leigh and your grandkids been here to visit yet?” Abby asked.
“I wish I saw my grandkids more,” said Claudine, frowning. “Leigh has made that impossible. She even stopped returning my calls. I think she wants me to disappear. When she told me to go find a mobile home park, she had no idea this one was so close. She actually shrieked when I told her where I parked it and that I found a job at Cannondale’s FIT, where she exercises.”
Abby stifled a smile and asked, “What work are you doing there?”
“I’m a night cleaner,” Claudine said. “It’s not my ideal job, but it’s a job for now. I want to get back to teaching art to kids, but in this economy that’s one of the first things schools, preschools, and families cut back on.
“But I have other exciting news,” she added. “Believe it or not, I already have a beau in town. His name is Eddie Silvio, and he owns the Getty on Route 23 in Cannondale. I met him the day I met you, when I was filling up The Rolling Stone’s tank. It’s a small gas station, but I explained I was almost out of gas so I had to buy it there. He directed me to the side of the station and brought out a long hose and filled up the tank for me. He told me I was the first mobile home at his station. Then he asked me if he could show me the local sights. We’re going out tonight on his motor boat.”
“I’m really happy for you,” Abby said. “Sounds like everything is coming together. I think you should contemplate changing the name of your camper.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, you are settling down,” Abby said. “Making roots. ‘Gathering moss,’ as they say. You’re not on the go.”
“Oh,” she said. “I guess I am. It feels good to be settled. I haven’t always been. As I told you, I wasn’t the best mom when Leigh was little.”
“Well,” Abby said, “as a parent now, Leigh should understand the difficulties that come with raising kids, especially under your circumstances. Maybe she’ll come around. If nothing else, she should appreciate the attention and love you can share with her kids.”
“I hope so,” she said. “If you see her, will you tell her we spoke?”
“If the opportunity arises,” Abby said, doubting she would ever have a heart-to-heart with Leigh.
“Do you know anything about the Education Barn?” asked Claudine.
“Yes—actually, I was just headed there,” Abby said. “It’s an arts supply store for kids as well as an educational toy store. Teachers buy supplies there. If you want to teach kids art, it might be a good source for you. You might be able to find work through the owner or start offering classes in one of its back rooms? Since we moved here, I’ve been in there a lot buying birthday party presents. I know the manager. Want to come with me and meet her?”
“That’d be great,” Claudine said.
As they walked to Abby’s car, Claudine asked about local used car lots.
“I really need to buy a car,” she said. “Right now I have to travel by camper, which eats gas and means I can only partially set up home here. If The Rolling Stone was stationary, I could add window boxes and potted trees to make it look landscaped. And I know my driving it in Leigh’s nice town embarrasses her. I was pulling into FIT for my shift and saw her zoom out of the parking lot. I know she takes an evening spin class there on Thursdays, but when she saw me, she turned the car around and left. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to her.”
“Well, I know you have access to your grandkids to consider, but it sounds to me like everything else is working in your favor,” Abby said. “I hope that part of your life resolves itself soon for you and your grandkids.”