for Mabel Sinclair. They’d married right after high school and had three kids—Little Darrel, May and Ranger—named after Darrell’s favorite baseball team.
“My cousin rammed a shopping cart once.” Darrell let loose a stream of tobacco juice and arched an eyebrow at her. “All he got was a few little scratches.”
“They’re making them sturdier these days.”
“They painting ’em yellow, too?” He eyeballed a small section that had flecks of dried paint embedded in the metal.
“I might have grazed one of those parking posts after I hit the shopping cart. Can you fix it?” she added before he could ask another question.
He shrugged. “I can try banging her out, but if that don’t work I’ll have to order a new fender.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“A week or two. Maybe more. Depends on if we have to order parts.”
Dread welled inside her. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain the car to anyone.
She didn’t want to lie.
She never lied. Her mother had been a master at it. She’d explained away her daughters to the men she’d brought home, calling them everything from her nieces to her younger sisters.
“I really need this car back as soon as possible.”
Darrell adjusted his ball cap and shook his head. “You cain’t hurry skilled craftsmanship.”
“I’ll pay extra.”
“You and the half dozen car owners in front of you. I’m the only mechanic in town. I’ve got me one of them monopolies going on.”
“Free movie tickets?”
“I already got a whole mess of tickets from Myron Haskell over at the theater. I helped him restore his ’69 GTO.”
“We’ve got pay-per-view at the senior center.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll spring for wrestling tomorrow night.”
“Got my own satellite dish. Fixed Diane Holloway’s Plymouth last year and she gave it to me.”
Diane owned the mercantile that sold everything from big screens to zit cream.
“I’ll mow your lawn.”
“That’s Mabel’s area. She says it helps to keep her ass from spreading on account of she sits all day. She’s on a health kick. Can you believe she made me get rid of the snack machines in the office? I tried to buy a chili dog over at the diner last week and Sue Jean refused to sell it to me. Said Mabel told her to cut me off or else. I cain’t even buy a Snickers bar at the Quick Pick.”
An idea struck and Miranda contemplated Mabel’s wrath all of five seconds before she made up her mind. “I could bring you a dozen Krispy Kremes from the senior center.” Hey, desperate times called for desperate measures. “We get a fresh shipment every morning.”
He grinned. “Sugar does make me work faster.”
Miranda vowed to deliver donuts first thing the next morning and headed to the local nursery to pick up a bag of potting soil.
It was her usual Sunday morning trip.
She walked her normal route and stopped off at the bakery for her favorite bagel. She said hello to the busy-bodies drinking coffee in front of the diner the way she always did and they harrumphed and why, I nevered the way they always did. It was the same old, same old in Skull Creek.
Except that it didn’t feel like the same old.
It felt different this time.
She felt different.
Her heart beat a little faster. Her body felt more alert. Her ears perked at the slightest sound and her fingertips tingled. Her nose seemed more sensitive, picking up the sweet smell of cotton candy even though she was a block away from the carnival being held in the church parking lot.
And her eyes…She noticed colors that she’d never noticed before. The different shades of red in the single rose that bloomed in a pot on her back patio. The iridescent aqua wings on the fly that buzzed around her kitchen.
She felt different, all right.
Alive.
Thanks to Cody.
She dismissed the absurd thought as she pulled on her gardening gloves and went to work on the flower beds in her backyard.
She and Greg had started the
“My cousin rammed a shopping cart once.” Darrell let loose a stream of tobacco juice and arched an eyebrow at her. “All he got was a few little scratches.”
“They’re making them sturdier these days.”
“They painting ’em yellow, too?” He eyeballed a small section that had flecks of dried paint embedded in the metal.
“I might have grazed one of those parking posts after I hit the shopping cart. Can you fix it?” she added before he could ask another question.
He shrugged. “I can try banging her out, but if that don’t work I’ll have to order a new fender.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“A week or two. Maybe more. Depends on if we have to order parts.”
Dread welled inside her. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain the car to anyone.
She didn’t want to lie.
She never lied. Her mother had been a master at it. She’d explained away her daughters to the men she’d brought home, calling them everything from her nieces to her younger sisters.
“I really need this car back as soon as possible.”
Darrell adjusted his ball cap and shook his head. “You cain’t hurry skilled craftsmanship.”
“I’ll pay extra.”
“You and the half dozen car owners in front of you. I’m the only mechanic in town. I’ve got me one of them monopolies going on.”
“Free movie tickets?”
“I already got a whole mess of tickets from Myron Haskell over at the theater. I helped him restore his ’69 GTO.”
“We’ve got pay-per-view at the senior center.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll spring for wrestling tomorrow night.”
“Got my own satellite dish. Fixed Diane Holloway’s Plymouth last year and she gave it to me.”
Diane owned the mercantile that sold everything from big screens to zit cream.
“I’ll mow your lawn.”
“That’s Mabel’s area. She says it helps to keep her ass from spreading on account of she sits all day. She’s on a health kick. Can you believe she made me get rid of the snack machines in the office? I tried to buy a chili dog over at the diner last week and Sue Jean refused to sell it to me. Said Mabel told her to cut me off or else. I cain’t even buy a Snickers bar at the Quick Pick.”
An idea struck and Miranda contemplated Mabel’s wrath all of five seconds before she made up her mind. “I could bring you a dozen Krispy Kremes from the senior center.” Hey, desperate times called for desperate measures. “We get a fresh shipment every morning.”
He grinned. “Sugar does make me work faster.”
Miranda vowed to deliver donuts first thing the next morning and headed to the local nursery to pick up a bag of potting soil.
It was her usual Sunday morning trip.
She walked her normal route and stopped off at the bakery for her favorite bagel. She said hello to the busy-bodies drinking coffee in front of the diner the way she always did and they harrumphed and why, I nevered the way they always did. It was the same old, same old in Skull Creek.
Except that it didn’t feel like the same old.
It felt different this time.
She felt different.
Her heart beat a little faster. Her body felt more alert. Her ears perked at the slightest sound and her fingertips tingled. Her nose seemed more sensitive, picking up the sweet smell of cotton candy even though she was a block away from the carnival being held in the church parking lot.
And her eyes…She noticed colors that she’d never noticed before. The different shades of red in the single rose that bloomed in a pot on her back patio. The iridescent aqua wings on the fly that buzzed around her kitchen.
She felt different, all right.
Alive.
Thanks to Cody.
She dismissed the absurd thought as she pulled on her gardening gloves and went to work on the flower beds in her backyard.
She and Greg had started the
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