She bought a cute green and red apple-shaped salt and pepper set and a copy of the local paper at the Alpendorf Gift Shop and had pancakes and scrambled eggs at the Alpendorf Cafe And Bakery. She was on her second cup of coffee when she found an affordable rental listed in the real estate section. Sixty dollars a month for a house, furniture and utilities included.
She had to stop and buy a local map at Ray Moon's gas station and market because she couldn't find Margaret Fayette Belle's place on any of her road maps.
"Do you know where Margaret Fayette Belle's place is?" Cherie asked the young gas station attendant who was checking her oil and filling her tank.
"Huh?" The attendant had to think a minute. "Oh, you mean Old Lady Belle. She owns more property up here than anyone else, except God. The main way people get lost is mixing up Apple Road with Appleblossom Highway. Once you're on Apple Road you take it on up this way till it ends. If you take Apple Road the other way till it ends, you'll end up at the monastery. There's a chain gate you don't need a key for but close it anyway because it irks her if you don't. Then follow the dirt road till it runs out right in front of her place. She'll be there. She don't go out much anymore. She sends her driver Willy Weeks out for everything she needs. That's him over there loading her groceries in that goddamn limousine. Just wait and follow him up to her place. He won't mind."
"Thank you. You've been very helpful," Cherie felt like this was her lucky day.
"Anytime. My name is Ben. Next time you come in you're gonna need a quart of oil. You're good to go now though," Ben smiled at her. She was the prettiest girl he'd seen in a long while.
Cherie followed Willy Weeks to the end of Apple Road. They spoke when he got out to open the chain gate.
"You up here to see Miss Belle about the rental?" Willy nodded politely to acknowledge Cherie's presence.
"Yes. Yes I am." Cherie answered.
"Drive on up ahead of me. I'll close the gate for you. It's heavy as hell. I don't know why she won't let me put up a new one. It's just her way. It's how she is."
"Thank you, Sir," Cherie nodded back.
"Oh, no need to "Sir" me. Just call me Will," he knew she'd end up calling him Willy because that's what Belle called him, but it was worth a try.
"Thank you, Will," She got back in her car and drove up the winding dirt road.
Cherie rented the little wooden railroad house sight unseen. She told Miss Belle that she was interested in the solitude the area provided because she dreamed of becoming a writer.
"Well, then you're going to need a desk. The house comes furnished with a kitchen table but you need a proper desk if you're going to be a writer." Miss Belle opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a ream of paper and plopped in on her desktop. "Here is my contribution to your career, Miss Solange. I'll have Willy help you with the desk."
"Oh, that won't be necessary. You've been too kind already," Cherie held the ream of paper to her heart to express her gratitude.
"Willy! I'll put the groceries up! You help Miss Solange get a good deal on a desk at George and Marilyn's. They don't pay anything for half their inventory, so don't let them charge you more than twenty five dollars." Miss Belle hollered.
"How are you going to see where to put the groceries up, Miss Belle, with them big old cataracts of yours?" Willy hollered back.
"Don't sass me! I'm not blind yet and you know it. Bring the truck around and help Miss Solange or I'll fire you. You're too ugly to get a job anywhere else. You'll starve to death!" Miss Belle winked at Cherie. "At our age bickering is the only exercise we get. We can't go jogging like you young folks. Willy will follow you to your new home. Here are your keys. After you see the place and lock up, he'll take you to George and Marilyn's to pick out a desk. Get something with character, something Ernest Hemingway or Mark Twain would like."
There was barely room to walk in George and Marilyn's APPLE OF YOUR EYE home furnishing shop. There was a narrow winding path that you could not see the ending to. It was like a hedge maze only it was made of furniture stacked on top of furniture all the way to the ceiling.
"Is anybody here!" Willy shouted.
"Out back!" George shouted, "We are unloading the truck!"
Cherie and Willy walked around to the back of the store where George and Marilyn were fretting over their latest load of treasures. Immediately they were struck by the sight of a roll-top desk perched on the edge of the truck, gilded by the golden orange light of the late afternoon sun. They looked at it and then at each other.
"It's too expensive," Cherie whispered.
"No it's not. It's twenty five dollars. There's probably four more just like it buried in that rat's nest. It's fate that this one is just ripe for the picking. George isn't going to bicker with Miss Belle. Half the stuff in his store probably comes from her rentals anyway," Willy whispered back.
Willy had the two wheeler in his truck to easily move the desk into Cherie's house.
"Well, if anything goes wrong with the plumbing or electric call the house and we'll take care of it. The phone works. Miss Belle pays for all the utilities. Rent is due on the first. Keep the garbage locked in the shed so it don't attract bears. The garbage collector has a key. Good night now, Miss Cherie," Willy closed up his truck.
"Good night, Will. Please thank Miss Belle again for me," Cherie waived from her porch.
"One down and everybody else to go," Willy couldn't help but smile as he drove away. She remembered. She called him Will.
~ To Be Continued ~
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