Turns
to be so interesting, but she couldn’t help but be curious. “So Cooper now owns the garage where he worked when we were all in high school? So much for mechanics being a dead-end job.”
“There’s nothing wrong with good, hard work,” Pearl said, slicing chunks of pineapple upside-down cake and placing them on paper plates for Spencer to then cover with cling wrap. “Cooper has been taking care of my Bessie for a decade now, and that pink Cadillac still runs like the day I bought her.”
“And he’s kept you in a car, too,” Granny said, pointing with an oatmeal cookie. “So you should stop by and thank him sometime.”
Lorelei blinked. “Granny, I don’t own a car.” She’d had a clunker in LA, but the ancient Chrysler had died six months ago.
“Sure you do. The Caprice is sitting in the garage at the house.”
“You still have that boat?” Lorelei had learned to drive in the two-toned Caprice Classic, which was closer to a yacht than a car. She never expected the monstrosity would be waiting for her when she got home.
Granny crossed her arms in a huff. “Your grandfather wanted you to have that car, and I’ve made sure that wish was honored. You could show a little gratitude, young lady.”
Adequately scolded, Lorelei apologized. “It’s not that I’m not grateful,” she said. “But I expected that car to be long gone by now. So I’m surprised. Having a way to get around on my own is going to be nice, though.” She tried not to think about the gas and insurance that she wouldn’t be able to afford anytime soon. “So thanks, to you and Pops.”
“You’re welcome.” Granny returned to her cookies. “Insurance is paid through the rest of the year, and the tank is full. Keys are hanging by the back door.”
Lorelei felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Now she could find work and not have to depend on Granny and Spencer to get her there. Not that she had any idea who would hire her, but Lorelei refused to curl up in a ball and give up, nor would she become a burden on her grandmother. There was always waiting tables—the only marketable skill she had—but the thought of serving the locals made her teeth hurt. Still, she’d do it.
The last twelve years had taught her many lessons, the biggest being that pride didn’t pay the bills. Sadly, neither did acting. Waiting tables it would have to be.
Chapter 6
Spencer had a long list of things to do Monday morning, which meant he didn’t have time to wait around and see Lorelei before starting his day. If he knew his former fiancée, she might be up by lunchtime, but there were no guarantees. He’d left the garage door open for her, in case she wanted to go somewhere. Though he’d oiled the track last week, on the same day he’d made sure the tank in the Caprice was full, the door was heavy, and he didn’t want Lorelei fighting to get it open.
By midmorning, he’d measured Miss Hattie’s kitchen for her new cabinets, put in an order for revised blueprints on the theater design, as he’d changed a few things based on feedback at the last meeting, and lined up two more kitchen remodels thanks to Mike Lowry recommending him. Mike was a native who’d moved to Nashville back when Spencer was still a bun in the oven to make it big in country music. Like Lorelei, he’d found not everyone gets their big break. After years slinging a hammer when he wasn’t singing in the bars, Mike returned to Ardent Springs and set up his own construction business.
Luckily for Spencer, the man respected his work and mentioned Boyd’s Custom Cabinets to clients looking for any kind of cabinetry.
Stepping through the entrance to Stallings Hardware, Spencer hesitated in order to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Once he could see, he headed for the counter. “Got an order for you, Buford,” he said. “Miss Hattie wants the cherry, so I hope that’s not still on back order.”
“You’re in luck,” Buford responded. “Truck came
to be so interesting, but she couldn’t help but be curious. “So Cooper now owns the garage where he worked when we were all in high school? So much for mechanics being a dead-end job.”
“There’s nothing wrong with good, hard work,” Pearl said, slicing chunks of pineapple upside-down cake and placing them on paper plates for Spencer to then cover with cling wrap. “Cooper has been taking care of my Bessie for a decade now, and that pink Cadillac still runs like the day I bought her.”
“And he’s kept you in a car, too,” Granny said, pointing with an oatmeal cookie. “So you should stop by and thank him sometime.”
Lorelei blinked. “Granny, I don’t own a car.” She’d had a clunker in LA, but the ancient Chrysler had died six months ago.
“Sure you do. The Caprice is sitting in the garage at the house.”
“You still have that boat?” Lorelei had learned to drive in the two-toned Caprice Classic, which was closer to a yacht than a car. She never expected the monstrosity would be waiting for her when she got home.
Granny crossed her arms in a huff. “Your grandfather wanted you to have that car, and I’ve made sure that wish was honored. You could show a little gratitude, young lady.”
Adequately scolded, Lorelei apologized. “It’s not that I’m not grateful,” she said. “But I expected that car to be long gone by now. So I’m surprised. Having a way to get around on my own is going to be nice, though.” She tried not to think about the gas and insurance that she wouldn’t be able to afford anytime soon. “So thanks, to you and Pops.”
“You’re welcome.” Granny returned to her cookies. “Insurance is paid through the rest of the year, and the tank is full. Keys are hanging by the back door.”
Lorelei felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Now she could find work and not have to depend on Granny and Spencer to get her there. Not that she had any idea who would hire her, but Lorelei refused to curl up in a ball and give up, nor would she become a burden on her grandmother. There was always waiting tables—the only marketable skill she had—but the thought of serving the locals made her teeth hurt. Still, she’d do it.
The last twelve years had taught her many lessons, the biggest being that pride didn’t pay the bills. Sadly, neither did acting. Waiting tables it would have to be.
Chapter 6
Spencer had a long list of things to do Monday morning, which meant he didn’t have time to wait around and see Lorelei before starting his day. If he knew his former fiancée, she might be up by lunchtime, but there were no guarantees. He’d left the garage door open for her, in case she wanted to go somewhere. Though he’d oiled the track last week, on the same day he’d made sure the tank in the Caprice was full, the door was heavy, and he didn’t want Lorelei fighting to get it open.
By midmorning, he’d measured Miss Hattie’s kitchen for her new cabinets, put in an order for revised blueprints on the theater design, as he’d changed a few things based on feedback at the last meeting, and lined up two more kitchen remodels thanks to Mike Lowry recommending him. Mike was a native who’d moved to Nashville back when Spencer was still a bun in the oven to make it big in country music. Like Lorelei, he’d found not everyone gets their big break. After years slinging a hammer when he wasn’t singing in the bars, Mike returned to Ardent Springs and set up his own construction business.
Luckily for Spencer, the man respected his work and mentioned Boyd’s Custom Cabinets to clients looking for any kind of cabinetry.
Stepping through the entrance to Stallings Hardware, Spencer hesitated in order to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Once he could see, he headed for the counter. “Got an order for you, Buford,” he said. “Miss Hattie wants the cherry, so I hope that’s not still on back order.”
“You’re in luck,” Buford responded. “Truck came
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