April Coker

Chapter One

MAMIE BRAKED HARD and whipped her SUV into the parking lot of Applewhite Auto Sales #2, just outside of Leander, Texas. The driver in the car behind her honked but she didn’t care.

“A vintage camper!” she cried to her Boston terrier Babs, who was napping on a dog pillow in the front passenger seat. The dog raised her head, wagged her bobbed tail, and rested her big brown eyes on her owner.

The sixties-era trailer in the back of the car lot was just what Mamie had been wanting. What a coincidence there was one for sale right there in town.

Ever since she had read an article about glamping in her favorite online woman’s magazine, she had been dying to go “glamping,” a term probably coined by some smart businessperson by combining the words “glamour” and “camping.” She had learned about a glamping craze that had prompted women to buy vintage campers and fix them up with chandeliers, fancy linens, and cute graphics. Glampers towed unique, refurbished campers, and even dressed in vintage clothing to match the era. She had been dying to find a cute camper and try glamping herself.

The used car salesman who had dashed out of the small office as soon as she pulled up in her SUV danced with impatience after unlocking the trailer and inviting her to see inside. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look around and think about it,” he said before greeting another customer.

What would West do? Her late husband had known about her desire to get a vintage camper, and he would have known if the price was reasonable. He would have looked the trailer over, top to bottom, underneath and inside, searching for evidence of water leaks and rotten wood. He would have known what to look for and whether it was worth what they were asking. But West wasn’t here anymore, and she needed to decide. To her inexperienced eyes, the trailer was perfect, just what she had been looking for.

The salesman finished talking with the other customer and hot-footed it back to Mamie. “What do you think? Do you like it? You could take her home today. I’ve had a lot of interest in this little trailer. It won’t be here long.”

She examined the young man’s bristly face for signs he was being truthful. The expertise she had gained from teaching high schoolers didn’t help. There was no way to know if he was giving her the facts or just trying to make a sale. Even though she was almost hopping with excitement, she refused to be swayed by a rapid-fire, smooth-talking car salesman. I can’t let him see how much I want it.

“How do I know if my car will pull it?”

The salesman glanced at her SUV. “This trailer weighs a little over 2000 pounds. It can be pulled by almost any SUV, especially one with a tow package.”

“I’m not sure what a tow package is, or if my car has one. My husband bought it for me.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. Lord, please let my car be able to tow this trailer.

“Why don’t you call him and ask?”

She shook her head. “I wish I could, but he passed away last year.”

The salesman cleared his throat, looked down, and shifted his feet. “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. I’d be happy to look at your owner’s manual and see.”

Sadness quickly replaced her excitement. Mamie swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, the one that appeared every time she spoke of her husband. She wasn’t supposed to have been left alone this soon. They were supposed to grow old together—retire, travel, enjoy grandchildren. Now none of that would ever happen. Blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over, she returned to her car a few yards away and opened the front passenger door.

“Babs, stay,” she ordered the dog as she reached into the glove compartment for the owner’s manual. Now her hands were shaking with sorrow instead of excitement.

Mike, according to his name tag, seemed not to notice as he took the manual from her and flipped through it. “Says here your vehicle is rated up to five thousand pounds.” He grinned, seeming to forget about her husband. “It can pull that trailer with no problems at all. You won’t even know it’s behind you.” He closed the booklet and handed it back to her. “Shall we make a deal?”

Not so fast, buster. “Isn’t there something else my car needs? Some kind of thing on the back so it can pull a trailer? Like a hitch or something?” She knew that at least, and her excitement was back.

“You don’t have a trailer hitch?” He walked to the rear of her car to check. “Nope, you sure don’t. Yep, you’ll have to take it someplace where they can add one. I recommend Star Hitches. I can call and make an appointment for you if you like and keep your trailer here until you can pick it up. We’ll just have to fill out some paperwork first.”

This is all happening so fast. Isn’t he being just a tad pushy? Or maybe he’s just being helpful. Her head swam with the pros and cons of signing on the dotted line.

“If you’ll come inside, we can get that paperwork taken care of. I’ll need your driver’s license, insurance card, and a down payment.” Mike headed toward the office.

Her feet froze. She had never made a major purchase like this by herself. Except for that time she bought living room furniture without consulting West. He hadn’t been happy about that, either. But he had gotten over it and even ended up liking it.

Evidently aware that she hadn’t followed, Mike turned. “Coming?”

“Could I have a minute, please?” Mamie asked. She needed to think and maybe get a second opinion from someone who hadn’t fallen in love at first sight like she had with the camper.

“Sure thing. I’ll be inside when you’re ready unless a customer comes along and then I’ll have to help them. Take your time, though.” He grinned and headed inside the tiny office building.

She snapped some photos of the camper with her phone before dialing her friend Starla, who agreed to look at the photos and give her opinion.

“Oh my gosh, what a darling camper! Yes, you should buy it and start camping. I’d even go with you if you asked. Heck, maybe Dave will let me find one to buy.”

“You agree that I should get it? You don’t think I’m rushing into it?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a free woman now, and you’ve mourned West long enough. It’s time for you to get out and have some fun. And if you can afford it, why not? Plus, these cute vintage trailers don’t come along every day, so you don’t want to miss your opportunity.”

That settled it. Starla had confirmed it. She’s right. If I let this one go, there might not be another one. And I need something to do, something to occupy my time, something to look forward to. It’s really not even about the money, and if thousands of other women are doing it, so can I.

“Thanks, Starla. You always give such great advice. And you’re so right. I’m going to do it.” She shoved her phone in her jeans pocket and moved toward the office. It was time to put on her big girl panties—or drawers, as West would say—and go for it. And even if Starla hadn’t answered the phone or hadn’t liked the trailer, she would have bought it anyway. She had already made up her mind.

By the afternoon of the next day, a new hitch had been installed below the back bumper of Mamie’s car and Mike was showing her how to hook up the trailer. He told her it would take practice, but with the backup camera on her vehicle it would be much easier than it used to be. The thought terrified her, but she figured if other women could do it, she should be able to learn as well.

Now something else troubled her: would she be able to unhook it once she got home? She jotted notes as Mike explained what to do. If nothing else she could call on a neighbor to help. Her hands shook as she drove out of the car lot, the little vintage trailer in her rearview mirror. It reminded her of a bumper sticker she had seen once: I go where I’m towed. She might have to get one for her trailer. The thought brought a smile to her face, replacing the grimace of anxiety that came from towing a trailer for the first time in her life.

It followed her home without coming undone, without jackknifing, without wrecking, though the hitch seemed to make more noise than she expected. She lived on a one-acre tract of land with enough room to avoid having to back in. She pulled into her driveway and drove off the pavement to circle under the trees and park next to her garage. Low-hanging tree branches brushed the top of her car and trailer.

When she was satisfied with where she had stopped, Mamie exited the car and retrieved a scrap piece of wood left over from one of her husband’s projects to rest the tongue jack on. Then she started checking things off the notes she had made. She placed the wheel chocks Mike had thrown inside the trailer around the tires before disconnecting the power cord for the trailer lights and unhooking the safety chains. Next, she unlocked the hitch ball cover before hand-cranking the jack. When it released the ball with enough clearance to pull out from under the hitch, she hopped back in the car and drove forward a bit. Then she got out again and cranked the tongue jack down until she thought the trailer looked level.

“I did it!” she cried to Babs, who had been deposited into the backyard and was watching her through the chain-link fence. The trailer was parked and the car was ready to move into the garage. She clapped in glee, feeling like a kid who had just hit his first home run.

Yes, she had plunked down a sizable check to purchase the trailer, but now it was hers, free and clear, title and all. Her kids would think she was crazy, but this was her life, and she intended to live it to the fullest. It was time to get out of her comfort zone and try something new. West would be proud of her. Starla sure was.

“I’m so proud of you, Mamie. I know you’ll have a lot of fun with that camper.”

“Thanks, Starla. I guess we’ll see. She needs redecorating in a bad way, and I already have a few ideas. Want to come over for lunch tomorrow? You can help me brainstorm. I could use another opinion.”

After hanging up with Starla, Mamie rummaged through the utility closet in the laundry room until she found a heavy-duty extension cord. Time to plug the camper in and see if everything—or anything—worked.

“Whatcha got there?” Mr. Benson, her inquisitive next-door neighbor, appeared in her yard as she plugged the cord into the outlet on the outside of the trailer.

“Hi, Mr. Benson. I decided to get this little camper I saw at Applewhite’s.”

“Is that the one that was at Applewhite’s?” Either he didn’t listen, or his hearing was going bad.

“Yes, sir,” Mamie replied, increasing the volume of her voice. A smile teased her lips.

“Whatcha gonna do with it?”

“I thought I might go camping.” She walked over to her garage to plug in the other end of the extension cord.

“Gonna be kind of hard to get your family in that tiny thing. What is it, anyway?”

“Oh no, the kids won’t be going with me. It’s just for me.”

“Going by yourself?”

Mamie straightened to look at him. She really hadn’t given that a thought. All the articles she had read about glamping talked about single women camping alone or with friends or family.

“You know, it may sound silly, Mr. Benson, but I really haven’t thought that far ahead. I just saw this trailer and had to have it. I’m sure I will figure something out, though. And I think the salesman said it’s a 1962 Scotsman Scottie.”

None of her friends had campers that she knew of, and it would be pretty cramped bunking with someone in a 14-foot trailer. From what Mamie could tell, the bed was only a twin. The dining table and benches were supposed to convert into a bed, but she had no clue how to do it. Maybe Starla’s husband would let her buy a camper so they could be camping buddies. Not likely since he just bought a new boat, she thought.

“She’s unique with that little bump-out in the front. Reminds me of Elvis and that pompadour of his. Maybe you could join a camping group,” said Mr. Benson. “Marla and I belonged to one years ago when the boys were still home. I’ll see if she remembers the name of it.”

“A camping group? That’s a great idea. I’ll have to do some research. I’m sure there are groups of women who go camping together.”

“I’m sure there are. Mind if I take a gander?” He stepped closer to the trailer.

“Not at all.” Mamie held the door open for him to peer inside. He wouldn’t be able to see much. She hadn’t turned any lights on yet.

“Looks pretty cozy,” he observed. “If you need help fixing anything on it, let me know. It’s been around a while, and I’m pretty handy.”

“That is awfully kind of you, Mr. Benson, and I may take you up on that offer.”

“Any time, Ms. Mamie, any time. I know you widow ladies need a man to help sometimes.”

Her face warmed. Widow lady. He was doing his duty as a kind neighbor, but it felt funny to be called that, even if it was exactly what she was, minus the orthopedic shoes and hairnet. She fixed a smile on her face as he turned to go.

“You’re very kind, Mr. Benson. Please give my regards to Mrs. Benson.”

Hoping he would take the cue to go home, she closed the camper door and took a couple of steps toward the garage.

“Will do. Take care now.”

A sip of water might help soothe the ache in her stomach, the knot that had formed when she remembered she was a widow. She entered her kitchen from the garage and filled a glass with cold water from the refrigerator.

“Am I being crazy, West? Have I just wasted a chunk of money? Can I really do this?”

The kitchen walls echoed with her unanswered questions. He was probably laughing at her, but then again, he had always told her she could do just about anything she put her mind to.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s a done deal. I’ll make it work. I can do this. Right, Babs?”

The ever-present pup, who had entered the house through the doggie door from the backyard, grabbed a nearby rubber toy and shook it with a playful growl, obviously wanting Mamie to take it from her and throw it.

“You silly girl. Let me have it.” Mamie pried the toy out of the dog’s mouth and tossed it across the kitchen into the living room. The dog bounced after it, tackled it, and brought it back. Mamie obliged by tossing the toy twice more, then said, “Okay, girl, I have to get back to work.”

Babs followed her owner outside but remained inside the fence when the gate was opened and then closed.

On the other side of the fence, Mamie opened the camper door again and heaved herself up.

“I’m going to need a stepstool,” she told no one in particular. She flipped the switch that was supposed to turn on the exterior light. “It works!” She laughed.

She tried two more lights, pleased to see that they worked as well. She had light, but no air conditioning, and it would be hot working in this little trailer in the summer. Next on her list: an air conditioner and someone to install it. Wonder if Mr. Benson would do that?

She opened drawers and cabinets, discovering all kinds of goodies, such as kitchen towels, plastic dishes, even pots and pans. The cushions on the benches and bed had seen better days. She would need to replace those, or at least the covers, and she was no seamstress. Wonder who could sew me some new seat covers?

She ran her fingers along the curtains. They were cute with their Route 66 map theme, but they weren’t at all her taste. Everything inside the camper was beige or brown. Not good. She needed color and lots of it.

The paint on the outside of the trailer--white with blue and yellow arrow designs down the sides--seemed to be in good shape. Maybe the décor inside should complement the outside. What she needed to do first was clean the whole trailer, inside and out. I’ll get on that early tomorrow morning before it gets too hot, she decided.

After a quick shower and then a prepared freezer meal for dinner, Mamie settled in her chair with her laptop to investigate she-sheds, glamping, and camping groups. Social media abounded with ideas for décor, but what caught her eye was the variety of camping groups. She scrolled through several, looking for anything that might stand out as a group she might want to join.

After sending requests to several ladies’ camping groups, she sipped tea while searching Amazon for camper steps, curtains, bedding, and air conditioners.

She was finally feeling excited about life again.

Chapter 2

“MOM, WHAT DID you do?” Mamie’s twenty-three-year-old daughter Junie burst through the front door and, like she had done all her life, dropped what she was carrying—today her heavy work backpack—on the floor in the foyer. Having just graduated from college with an MBA the previous spring, Junie worked for a wealth management company in nearby Round Rock. Still single, she felt free to drop in on her mother unannounced at any time, especially around mealtime.

Mamie looked up from her laptop where she searched for upcoming campouts with a ladies’ group she had joined called Gals Gone Glamping. “Hello to you, too, Junie. What do you mean?”

“That camper by the garage. Is it yours?” Junie plopped down on the sofa next to her mother.

“I just got it, yes.”

“It’s very cute. I’m jealous. What are you going to do with it? Hello to you, too, Babs,” she said to the dog who had jumped into her lap and was covering her face with wet kisses.

“Camp. I joined a ladies’ camping group.”

“No way, really? That’s great, Mom! I’ve heard about those. Sisters on the Lam and such. Which one did you join?”

“Gals Gone Glamping. I’m looking at upcoming campouts now.”

“Do you know anyone?”

“Not a one.” Mamie scrunched up her face and glanced sideways at her daughter, expecting a scolding.

It didn’t come. “You’re so brave, Mom. I’m proud of you.” Junie pushed the dog off and wrapped her arms around her mother. “Dad would be proud, too. He would want you to live your life. And not just your life. Your best life.”

Those ever-ready tears pricked the backs of Mamie’s eyeballs. “Thank you, sweetie. That’s what I thought, too. I’m tired of staying in the house. It’s time I ventured out and made new friends and saw new places. Thank you for understanding.”

“Just promise me one thing, Mom.”

“Okay?”

“Please be careful.”

“Of course! Always.”

“Good. Will you be taking Babs with you?”