Read Online Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise by Joyce Magnin - Free Book Online Page A

short and sweet and to the point. No time to dillydally."
    "That's right," said a second woman. "I need to get back home to baby Ruth." I giggled, but when no one else joined in I figured the joke was lost.
    "She's been crying for days with the colic. But I told Charlie if I didn't get out of the trailer and take a walk I couldn't be held responsible for what I might do. Charlie doesn't like it when I talk like that, even though he doesn't know if I'm serious or not. Course, I ain't."
    "You must be Charlie Lundy's wife," I said. "He helped Asa carry in my furniture."
    "That's right, I'm Greta. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
    Asa offered crackers first, while Rose gave them each a Dixie cup. Then she plopped an ice cube into each cup as Asa poured Coke. Teamwork. It made me smile.
    "I played softball in high school," said the third woman. They still stood in a row like bowling pins. "I pitched for the Macungie Sentinels. Pitched us all the way to a state championship, even though nobody cared if girls could play ball or not."
    "You're a pitcher," I said. I glanced at Asa. "Just like I said. We need a star pitcher and it looks like we got one."
    She smacked a fist into her palm. "My name's Francine, but everyone calls me Frankie."
    I heard a knock on the door. "That might be my Rube," Frankie said. "Wouldn't put it past the big lug to come looking for me. But you tell him I'll be home when I get there, if it is him."
    Rose opened the door and in walked Clara Kaninsky. I smiled about as wide as home plate. "Second base?"
    "Sure," she said. "I heard the other girls were coming so I decided to come too. Had a time getting out of the house tonight. Grady, that's my youngest, had to help him muddle through some silly science experiment—made a radio with only a potato and some wires and a five-penny nail. Imagine that."
    "Imagine," I said. "Must be a bright boy."
    Clara smiled. "This here is Ginger Rodgers."
    I looked but I didn't see anyone until the tiniest person I ever saw up close came out from behind Clara. I did a lousy job of hiding my surprise, but I figured everyone understood, including Ginger. She laughed until I thought she'd split a gut.
    "Don't fret," Ginger said as she caught her breath. She reached her hand up for me to shake. She had the nicest touch, even if it did feel like I shook the hand of a three-year-old.
    "Pleased to meet you." I showed her in. She hopped up on the sofa and Lucky eyed her like she was a new chew toy. He even put his paw on her knee and watched her like he wanted me to toss her outside so he could fetch and bring her back. She pushed him away. "I am not a large bone for you to bury in the backyard."
    "Lucky," I said, "go lie down."
    "Nice doggie," she said.
    "So glad you came." I offered her cheese and crackers.
    That was when Rose sidled next to me. "Ginger wants to play."
    Frankie spit soda across the room. "You, Ginger? Come on," she said. "I mean you're a sweet gal and all but softball? How?"
    "I can play," Ginger said. "I'm pretty quick. Doesn't take much to propel this body around the bases, and you got to admit I have a wicked strike zone." She jumped off the sofa and held one hand at her shoulder and the other at her knees. Maybe nine inches.
    She would be hard to pitch to.
    "Okay," I said. "But what position?"
    Ginger laughed. "Shortstop, of course."
    I don't think I ever heard so much laughter in my life. There I stood with a room full of women and a one-armed man laughing and giggling. It felt fine. It felt just fine.
    "Shortstop? You're serious?"
    She nodded.
    "Why not?" I said.
    Ginger smiled. "Praise Jesus, I'm going to play softball."
    I counted the women. "We need two more. Just two more to make a team."
    Greta volunteered to play first base.
    "No, I'm sorry," I said. "You're a little short for first base. I'm afraid we'd have balls flying over your head. But you look like a center fielder. How about center field?"
    "Sure," she said. "Where's that?"
    Frankie slapped