Page 19 of Your Every Wish
“That’s enough, Marti.” Misty gestures for the woman to stand down. “Until Emma and Kennedy prove otherwise, we’ll just have to trust them. Now let’s move on to new business. How’s the plans coming for the Halloween party, Willow?”
A tall woman with stick-straight brown hair, wearing a Mexican peasant dress and sturdy brown boots, rises from her folding chair. “Good. Trapper is in charge of the decorations, Rondi will be sending a signup sheet around for the potluck, and Gwen is taking over the games from Russ, may he rest in peace.”
The group echoes, “May he rest in peace.”
When the meeting is over, Kennedy and I cut across the now dim park back to our trailer, following the mostly cracked solar lights that line the trail. Another thing to add to the to-do list. It would be a peaceful stroll if it weren’t for Kennedy. I can feel the hostility coming off her in waves.
“Just spit out whatever is eating you,” I tell her.
“You. You keep telling these people that we’re going to remake the place. That we’re going to turn it into a Thomas Kinkade painting.”
“I didn’t say that. I didn’t say that at all.”
“You may as well have. Emma, we have to sell. There’s no way in hell we can afford to fix all the problems here. And neither of us knows a damn thing about running a trailer park. These people deserve professionals, people who know what they’re doing.”
“Right, like a private equity firm because they always put people first.” Private equity firms had bought up many of the country’s family-owned newspapers. We were all holding our breath for one to snap upSF Voiceand replace all of us with artificial intelligence. It’s only a matter of time.
“I don’t know how you come up with this stuff,” Kennedy says with a shake of her head.
“Who do you think is going to buy a moldy old trailer park? Someone who sees value in the land, someone who’ll displace these people in a San Francisco second to put in a Costco or Sam’s Club.”
“Here? You’ve got to be kidding me. Anyway, we can’t control what people do with the property. All we can do is sell it to the highest bidder and hope for the best.”
“And what about the tenants? We just let them be pushed out onto the street? Homeless?”
“They own their trailers. They can just move them somewhere else.”
“It’s not that easy, Kennedy.” I should know, having been put out on the street myself.
“Well, it’s not our problem, Emma. Things get sold every day. It’s just the cycle of life.”
“The cycle of life?” It sounded like Kennedy was talking about something biblical, not a trailer park in the Sierra Foothills. “Really?”
“You know what I mean. We can’t hold ourselves responsible for strangers.” Kennedy stops in the middle of the trail and gives me a long assessing look. “It seems to me that you need the money as much as I do. Unless you know something I don’t.”
I stop right along with her. “Like what could I possibly know?”
“Where Willy stashed his money.”
I throw up my arms. “You’re kidding me, right? What makes you think he had money and, even if he did, how would I know where he kept it?”
“Come on, Emma, the man was a legendary businessman. Do you really believe all he had to his name when he died was a decrepit old trailer park in Timbuktu and a few bucks in his pocket?”
“He was also a legendary gambler.” I pin her with a glare. “He probably lost it all at the craps table. Why are you so desperate for money, anyway? I thought you made a good living working at Caesars Palace.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not as good as you think.” She turns her head away and starts again for the trailer.
It’s cold inside and the bad odor hasn’t completely dissipated. But there’s something about the place that feels homey. Kennedy heads straight for the kitchen and joins me a few minutes later in the living room with a box of crackers and a can of diet cola.
“You want me to make something?” I say because I can’t believe that’s her dinner. “I could throw together some pasta and a bag salad.”
“That’s okay. I’m good,” she says around a mouth stuffed full of crackers. “Unless you’re making it for yourself.”
“That was my thought.” I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, and I’m starved.
“Then go for it.”
She follows me into the kitchen and watches as I wait for the water to boil. “Do you cook a lot?”
