by Tanya Agler
Georgie’s gaze lingered over Lucie’s thin frame and her worn clothing, clean except for the chocolate smears. “Never.” Taking pleasure in other’s misfortunes had never been her style. “You really think I’m going to let someone who I’ve known almost all my life drive this car away in poor condition? My guess is your children are the same age we were when we met.”
Lucie sniffled, a crooked smile coming out. “Yeah.”
The first day of kindergarten flooded back like a bad engine. Georgie shuffled her feet. “You probably don’t remember, but you introduced yourself to me. You were wearing a matching dress and headband...”
Lucie’s smile became more genuine. “I loved that plaid jumper.”
Georgie cleared her throat, and Lucie pretended to zip her lip. “You offered to be my friend.” Here she had judged Lucie by her appearance, when she hated when people did the same. “And I turned you down flat. Hope that offer didn’t come with an expiration date. Standing there, you look like you could use a friend.”
“That obvious, huh?” asked Lucie.
Sighs came out of both of their mouths at the same time.
“Gosh, you have a good memory.” Something in Lucie’s eyes made Georgie give her a second glance.
There was something there Georgie could identify with. Lucie was a survivor.
“I always envied you, though,” Lucie said.
Surprise flickered through Georgie. Since she’d come back to Hollydale, one surprise after another had greeted her. “Me? I wasn’t popular or overly athletic, or the smartest.”
Lucie smiled. “No, but you were sure of yourself. You always carried yourself with purpose.”
Georgie pocketed the keys. Bluster and her friendship with Mike Harrison had gone a long way. Even with her independent streak, Mike had made everything better. Well, almost everything.
Georgie couldn’t let Lucie drive away in this rattletrap. Besides, this was a true challenge, and she loved making an engine better again. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“I don’t have any money to spare.” Bitterness laced her words, and Lucie stopped short. “Sorry to be so blunt. My ex fleeced almost everyone in this town, me and our children most of all.”
“Nothing shameful in a payment plan.”
Lucie sent another wry smile her way. “Honesty. That’s another quality I’ve long admired of yours. Never a desire to pretend like the rest of us.”
“Here’s the deal. Recommend me to your friends, and I’ll reduce the cost of labor.”
Lucie laughed and kicked the front tire. “My word doesn’t mean much around here anymore.”
Without references it would be a hard climb for other customers to trust her with their cars. “Any word of mouth is better than none.”
“How much is the part you’re talking about?”
“A few hundred.”
Lucie whistled and shuffled away. “I’ll be paying you and Max back when my kids attend Hollydale High.” She frowned and extended her hand again. “Once the car goes kaput, we can walk until I save enough.”
“Then I’ll hire you.” Where had that idea come from? And Lucie Decker, of all people? How many times had Beverly Bennett held up Lucie as a model of grace and charm? That didn’t matter now. Keeping this car running did. Those kids mattered. Somehow, a part of her knew Lucie also counted for something, even if Lucie had forgotten that. “My mother recently had a stent procedure. Her best friend, Kitty, has helped her while I work.”
“I’m not a nurse.”
“No, but my mother has always liked you.”
“I already have two jobs while they’re at day care.”
“They’ll entertain my mother.” An idea popped into Georgie’s head. “She can also tell you about a fabulous job opening at my cousin’s dress shop.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“Cost of labor in exchange for helping with my mother and...”
“A payment plan for the part.”
“You have a deal.”
They shook on it, and Georgie sighed. Another job she was practically doing for free. At least she was repairing something. A small start, but a start nonetheless.
* * *
MIKE SWUNG HIS duffel bag over his shoulder as he headed toward the Night Owl Bakery. He’d wanted one of their peach cobbler cookies all morning. After he bought two, one for him now and one for Rachel later, he’d head over to the gazebo and wolf down his lunch while reading over the police reports one more time. Maybe seeing the facades of the businesses while he ate would bring on fresh inspiration.
Mission accomplished. A warm cookie in hand and another in his bag, Mike made his way to the gazebo, the sidewalks less crowded with the art festival now in the annals of Hollydale history. Before he reached his destination, Donahue emerged from the courthouse and flagged Mike down.
“Just finalized getting my name on the ballot. Another unopposed election.”
While more residents like Jeremy had asked Mike about running, Donahue had Mike’s vote unless something changed.
“I’ll be back at the station after lunch.” Mike held up his cookie and duffel bag. “Thought a change of scenery might give me a fresh perspective on the crime scene reports.”
Mike went to a bench, and Donahue sat down beside him. “Did you bring those reports with you?”
“Yep.” Mike unzipped the duffel and pulled out the magazine on top. Magazine? He didn’t put a magazine in there this morning. A closer inspection proved it wasn’t a magazine but a comic book with a sticky note attached.
“What’s that?” Donahue craned his neck.
“Rachel must have slipped it in for me.” He read the note, which confirmed his guess.
Donahue grabbed the comic, his neck growing red near the collar. “A comic book, and it looks vintage. Where did Rachel get this?”
Mike’s appetite deserted him, and he set aside the remaining cookie to give to Rachel later. “Georgie dropped off a box of books for Rachel. Could have been in there or it could have come from a friend at school. My dad might even have given it to her as a gift.” Then an ad for a video game system on the back cover jumped out at him. This couldn’t be one of Max’s. “And looks can be deceiving. This is new.”
“Georgie Bennett’s name comes up again.” Donahue jumped up and all but licked his lips. “I’ll check with Max to see if he had any new comics mixed in with his older ones.”
Mike tried to retrieve the comic book, but Donahue refused to hand it over.
“Until I find out if this is one of Max’s, don’t tell anyone about this.”
“That’s a far reach, isn’t it?” A sliver of doubt burred its way into Mike’s mind before he dismissed it. Georgie Bennett was innocent.
“She also had access to that dumpster.” Donahue strode off in the direction of the police station.
While the comic book was circumstantial at best, Donahue seemed to take it as strong proof Georgie was responsible.
* * *
MIKE GRAZED THE back of his hand to Rachel’s forehead. Burning hot. His daughter sniffled, and he handed her the box of tissues from her nightstand. A relapse of whatever she had two weeks ago. Mike headed for the bathroom for the children’s pain reliever. Returning, he measured out a dose of the sticky pink stuff.
“Open up, kiddo.” Mike held the capful of medicine under her nose.
“I like grape better.” She sipped it slowly but eventually finished the liquid.
“While grape is the superior flavor to—” he held up the cap to read and winced “—whatever this is, it’s the best we’ve got. You get the day off tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s Wednesday, our reward day. I’ll miss out on popsicles.” Rachel sneezed and wiped her hand on her shirtsleeve.
At times like this, he didn’t know whether to miss Ca
itlyn or curse her for leaving.
“I’ll step out while you change into pajamas, and I’ll be back with a nice cup of...” He huffed out a deep breath. Decaf coffee wasn’t a good solution here. “Tea or whatever Aunt Natalie drinks and leaves in the cabinet when she babysits.”
Mike walked toward the hall, cap and bottle in hand. Glancing over his shoulder, he hated the misery on his little girl’s face. “When I go to the store, I’ll pick up banana popsicles. They’re still your favorite, right?”
“It’s not the same.” Rachel dragged herself out of bed and went for the dresser.
Would a mother handle this better? He shrugged and hurried on. Doing the best with what he’d been given was his stock in trade. Trouble now was finding someone to babysit a sick child while he went to work.
Picking up his smartphone, he called the first person on his list. “Hi, Mom.”
“I was just about to call you. Smart minds think alike.” Light laughter came over the line. “Guess what?”
“You had a great time with Ruthy and Don?” Safe guess, but he liked the safety of being right in this moment.
“Becks is pregnant! My second grandbaby. She’s on the phone with Natalie now, and she’s calling you next. Act surprised, okay?” Mom’s excitement was palpable, and his mood elevated. So his little sister and her husband, Jack, were going to have a baby. He hustled back to Rachel’s room, phone in hand.
He entered before a shriek stopped him cold. “Daddy, I’m changing.”
He stepped back into the hallway. One of his little sisters was all grown up, and his daughter was growing up way too fast.
“Mike, are you there?” Mom’s question gave him pause. He didn’t want to ruin Becks’s moment with the news Rachel was sick.
“That’s great, Mom. And yes, I’ll act surprised.”
“There’s more.” Her tone changed from excitement to a hint of foreboding. “I know it’s your birthday tomorrow, but I’m flying out to LA. Ruthy and Don invited us, and they only live half an hour from Becks and Jack. Do you mind if I miss your birthday? After her miscarriage with the last baby, I want to help Becks stay off her feet.”
“Good luck with that. Becks’s idea of taking it easy is running a half triathlon.”
“I know. Becks was born kicking a soccer ball while Natalie had a calculator in hand.” Another giddy burst of laughter followed by a cheer. “We’ll celebrate when I get back, okay? And I’ll work out a deal with Natalie. She can pick Rachel up after she’s done teaching for the day.”
He couldn’t stand in the way of his mother’s happiness. Especially when Becks would be thrilled to see Mom. He’d talk to Natalie later. “Sounds good.”
Rachel opened the door, exasperation clouding her brown eyes. “Daddy. I’m eight now. Please knock before you come in.” She sniffled and shrugged, throwing her arms around him. “But I’m never too old to give you a hug. Love you.”
“Time for bed.” He tucked her in. Pressing a kiss to her hot forehead, he smiled. “By the way, you have to get better so you can Skype Aunt Becks tomorrow night.”
Rachel’s eyebrows wove together. “We don’t call her until Sunday night.”
“You’ll want to suggest names for their new addition.”
Ginger wandered into the room and jumped on Rachel’s bed.
“Are they getting a kitten?” Rachel stroked Ginger’s back and pressed her face to her side.
Ginger yowled and jumped off again.
“Or a dog?”
Trust his daughter to assume Becks and Jack were adding an animal to their family rather than a baby. “Actually, they won’t be getting anything for about seven more months. Aunt Becks is pregnant.”
Rachel clapped and sat straight up, her cheeks two bright beacons of pink. “I hope it’s a girl.”
She swung her legs, longer than this time last year, out of her bed.
Mike held up his hand. “Where are you going, young lady?”
“I want to talk to Aunt Becks today.” She gazed at her father and climbed back into bed with a little huff. “I’ll wait for tomorrow.”
“Good answer.” Mike brushed her damp hair off her forehead before grazing a kiss there. “Get some sleep.”
He flicked off her bedroom light, then walked into the living room and went through his list of alternate babysitters. Forget it. Rachel needed rest and her father. Even though it was late, he called Sam Edwards, who couldn’t switch shifts with him. That left Sheriff Donahue.
A few minutes later he pressed End Call on his phone and knocked his head against the wall. That went well. Not at all. Donahue made him pay through the nose. Two night shifts in exchange for staying home with Rachel tomorrow.
A sick child and laundry were a heck of a way to spend his thirtieth birthday.
If he had any luck at all, one of those night shifts better net the B&E perps.
Besides, Rachel was worth the trade. He settled on the couch and grabbed the remote. Ginger climbed onto his lap, and he stroked her soft fur, her purrs a great reward. Mike glanced at the ceiling, Rachel’s room directly overhead. Hard to believe anything good came out of the first and only time he’d gotten stinking drunk. He’d gone to Bobby Joe’s Bluegrass Bar in Asheville, looking for a temporary fix to all that was wrong with his life. He’d found that, and more, in the form of a shapely Caitlyn Anderson and a cheap motel. Six weeks later, she’d knocked on his door. Stunned, he’d knelt on one knee and didn’t look back. Doing the honorable thing was never a question. He’d do the same all over again. Caitlyn, however, left after two months of motherhood, signing away all rights while claiming she was too young to settle down.
Shaking off the doldrums, he moved to the kitchen. Ginger wound herself around his ankles, reminding him, first and foremost, cats were the only necessary item on the list of life’s blessings and he was her minion, existing to do her bidding. Laughing, he stroked her underbelly.
“So, Ginger. What should I get myself for my birthday?”
Georgie’s offer ran through his mind. If he restored the Thunderbird, he and Rachel would have that long drive before he sold it. Be honest, Mike. Having Georgie in the front seat with him would be like old times.
A fresh start. That would be his birthday present to himself.
Despite Ginger’s howls of protest when he stopped rubbing her tummy, Mike went over and picked up his smartphone. Frustration floated through him as he thumped the phone on the table. He didn’t have Georgie’s number. Getting her number off the police report for personal reasons crossed the line. And her old number from high school? Beverly Bennett found another aisle in the grocery store if she saw him coming. She sure wouldn’t pass the phone to Georgie.
Tomorrow he’d call Max’s Auto Repair and set this plan into motion.
Maybe it would be a happy birthday after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EVERY TIME GEORGIE passed Heidi’s desk calendar, something pinged inside her like there was something important about this Wednesday she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Seeing the date once more brought that same ache in her stomach. Again, nothing came to mind.
The phone rang, and Heidi moved to answer it.
“Max’s Auto Repair. Heidi speaking. As a matter of fact, she is here.” Heidi held out the receiver to Georgie. “Prospective client.”
Finally. Georgie didn’t care if it was a scooter or an electric skateboard. While she’d enjoyed handing Lucie the keys to her Cruiser this morning, she’d fix anything with wheels and a motor.
Georgie clenched her fist and pumped it toward her chest. “Georgie Bennett.”
“Hi, it’s Mike.”
Her intake of breath gave away her surprise. Mike. How could she have forgotten, especially after proclaiming herself his present the other night? She bumped her forehead with her free hand. “Happy birthday to the
bestest fella ever.”
He laughed, a new wryness coming through. “I’ve missed that Georgie optimism.”
She’d be a sight more optimistic once Mike solved the string of burglaries, the topic of many conversations around town, according to Heidi.
“How can Max’s Auto Repair help you on this fine day?”
“You mentioned you’d spent time in different areas of the country. Boston and Atlanta among others, right?”
What she’d said meant something to him. He hadn’t just filed it away with the report. Did she want him to pay attention? Her cheeks warmed, and she shifted the phone to her other ear.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with your birthday?”
“My birthday isn’t why I called. Wait a minute, will you?” Silence came over his end of the line.
Then why was he calling? Was this personal or business? Did she care? Honesty time. The curve of his lips, the tiny scar under his forehead, the new wisdom in his demeanor. Something about him had knocked the wind out of her when he arrived to investigate the burglary. That wind still wasn’t back.
The past eleven years had been kind to Mike. Downright generous, in fact. The lean, boyish figure matured into a muscular body. Those brown eyes held a hint of the world in them, but it would be too easy to lose herself in their depths.
And when he looked at her? It was as though he could pierce her soul and accept the real her, the woman who wanted to be loved for herself. Just plain Georgie.
Muffled words reached her ear, breaking her out of her reverie.
“Rachel, I’m on the phone. I know you’re bored, but you can’t have my phone if I’m on it.”
“If this isn’t a good time, maybe we can talk later.” Georgie tried to interject a helpful note.
“Rachel has a cold, and I’m home with her. My mom flew out to Los Angeles today. And my dad promised to help out a buddy. Boredom has now set in, and Rachel would like to play her favorite app on my phone. Something where you can dress a ballerina and make her twirl and whirl. Girlie stuff.”
