the shop.” I thought Jeff looked relieved, but he didn’t speak. I went on. “I feel responsible for you, Jeff. You won’t tell us why you showed up here. I can’t get hold of your parents. I need to know what you’re up to!”
“Good question.” The comment came from the door to the office, and I looked up to see Chief Jones come in. He unwrapped a mile of wool scarf from around his neck, pulled off his stocking cap, and took a chair.
“Okay. Jeff, you did good work, scaring the burglar off like that. But what the heck were you doing down here anyway?”
Jeff’s lips pursed, and his brows knitted. He looked as if he were trying to decide whether he should yell or burst into tears.
But before he could do either, Aunt Nettie took over. “Chief, does Warner Pier have a curfew?”
“No, Nettie. You know it doesn’t.”
“Then is there any legal reason that Jeff shouldn’t have been driving around in Warner Pier, even if he did it after midnight?”
“No, there isn’t, Nettie. He wasn’t breaking any law by merely driving around the business district. It’s just a little unusual.”
She turned to me. “Lee, Jeff isn’t a little boy anymore, and you’re not married to his father anymore. So, if he wants to drive around all night every night, he’s welcome to do so.”
Then she addressed the chief. “It’s getting to be time for breakfast. Let’s form a caravan out to the house—you and Jerry are invited. I’ve got a couple of pounds of sausage in the freezer, and I’ve got a dozen eggs. Let’s go eat.”
She zipped her heavy blue jacket and pulled on her own woolly cap and gloves. She shook a bulky finger at us. “And not one of you is going to ask Jeff a single question. He saved the Hart molds, and I’ll be eternally grateful to him.”
She sailed out the door—solid as a tugboat, but regal as an ocean liner.
When I looked at Jeff, he had tears in his eyes.
Chapter 5
O f course, Aunt Nettie was right.
Or I had convinced myself that she was by the time I had driven out to the house. My Texas grandmother would have said Jeff was simply “bowing his neck,” acting like a mule fighting the harness. He wasn’t going to be badgered into telling us anything. The only way we were likely to find out why he’d come to Michigan was by killing him with kindness. It was the same technique Aunt Nettie had used twelve years earlier, when she was saddled with an angry sixteen-year-old niece for the summer.
We had to let Jeff learn that he could trust us. Which made me a little ashamed that I had followed him. But not too ashamed. When I finally got hold of his mom or his dad, they were likely to have a fit because he had left college in the middle of the semester and driven to Michigan. I didn’t want to quarrel with them, and they wouldn’t like it if I had let him wander around western Michigan in the snow and hadn’t even tried to figure out what he was up to.
And I did wonder about those tears in Jeff’s eyes.
Jeff offset the tears, however, by pouting and sulking all through breakfast. By the time Aunt Nettie had fed Chief Jones, Jeff, me, and herself—Jerry Cherry hadn’t joined us—it was close to six a.m. The chief insisted on helping Aunt Nettie with the dishes, and Jeff delighted us all by going to bed. I was exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep. So I put on my jacket and boots, took my flashlight and walked down the drive to get the Grand Rapids paper out of the delivery box across the road.
Getting out and walking around in the snow is another part of my campaign not to act like a Texan who’d never seen cold weather before. Actually, it can get darn cold in Texas, but it doesn’t last months and months, the way it does in Michigan.
I’d just taken the newspaper out and turned to go back across the road when headlights came around the curve. I stopped to let them go by. But the headlights didn’t go by. A pickup screeched to a halt, and Joe Woodyard got out.
“Are
“Good question.” The comment came from the door to the office, and I looked up to see Chief Jones come in. He unwrapped a mile of wool scarf from around his neck, pulled off his stocking cap, and took a chair.
“Okay. Jeff, you did good work, scaring the burglar off like that. But what the heck were you doing down here anyway?”
Jeff’s lips pursed, and his brows knitted. He looked as if he were trying to decide whether he should yell or burst into tears.
But before he could do either, Aunt Nettie took over. “Chief, does Warner Pier have a curfew?”
“No, Nettie. You know it doesn’t.”
“Then is there any legal reason that Jeff shouldn’t have been driving around in Warner Pier, even if he did it after midnight?”
“No, there isn’t, Nettie. He wasn’t breaking any law by merely driving around the business district. It’s just a little unusual.”
She turned to me. “Lee, Jeff isn’t a little boy anymore, and you’re not married to his father anymore. So, if he wants to drive around all night every night, he’s welcome to do so.”
Then she addressed the chief. “It’s getting to be time for breakfast. Let’s form a caravan out to the house—you and Jerry are invited. I’ve got a couple of pounds of sausage in the freezer, and I’ve got a dozen eggs. Let’s go eat.”
She zipped her heavy blue jacket and pulled on her own woolly cap and gloves. She shook a bulky finger at us. “And not one of you is going to ask Jeff a single question. He saved the Hart molds, and I’ll be eternally grateful to him.”
She sailed out the door—solid as a tugboat, but regal as an ocean liner.
When I looked at Jeff, he had tears in his eyes.
Chapter 5
O f course, Aunt Nettie was right.
Or I had convinced myself that she was by the time I had driven out to the house. My Texas grandmother would have said Jeff was simply “bowing his neck,” acting like a mule fighting the harness. He wasn’t going to be badgered into telling us anything. The only way we were likely to find out why he’d come to Michigan was by killing him with kindness. It was the same technique Aunt Nettie had used twelve years earlier, when she was saddled with an angry sixteen-year-old niece for the summer.
We had to let Jeff learn that he could trust us. Which made me a little ashamed that I had followed him. But not too ashamed. When I finally got hold of his mom or his dad, they were likely to have a fit because he had left college in the middle of the semester and driven to Michigan. I didn’t want to quarrel with them, and they wouldn’t like it if I had let him wander around western Michigan in the snow and hadn’t even tried to figure out what he was up to.
And I did wonder about those tears in Jeff’s eyes.
Jeff offset the tears, however, by pouting and sulking all through breakfast. By the time Aunt Nettie had fed Chief Jones, Jeff, me, and herself—Jerry Cherry hadn’t joined us—it was close to six a.m. The chief insisted on helping Aunt Nettie with the dishes, and Jeff delighted us all by going to bed. I was exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep. So I put on my jacket and boots, took my flashlight and walked down the drive to get the Grand Rapids paper out of the delivery box across the road.
Getting out and walking around in the snow is another part of my campaign not to act like a Texan who’d never seen cold weather before. Actually, it can get darn cold in Texas, but it doesn’t last months and months, the way it does in Michigan.
I’d just taken the newspaper out and turned to go back across the road when headlights came around the curve. I stopped to let them go by. But the headlights didn’t go by. A pickup screeched to a halt, and Joe Woodyard got out.
“Are
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