by Tanya Agler
No matter where he turned, it was as if everyone were handing him a one-way ticket to the doghouse. Donahue glared at him, even though Mike made his position clear that he wasn’t running. Mr. Garrity from the bank, along with members of his posse, sent a glare of disdain his way when Mike said thanks but no thanks.
That doghouse was cold.
All the more reason to enjoy today with his two favorite ladies. Mike caught his breath. Maybe it was the old-fashioned Packards and LaSalles, but he wanted to pull Georgie aside and ask if she’d be his girl.
“Rachel.” Georgie’s voice, husky and confident, brought him back to the show. She pointed to a red Thunderbird. “This is what your car will look like when it’s done.”
The sheer stupidity of coming here hit him like a Mack truck. Flaunting the finished product to Rachel courted trouble at its worst. After one final ride he’d be selling it to the highest bidder.
Another mistake notched in his fatherhood belt. Dad had made everything look so easy, taking everything in stride. Hadn’t Mike learned anything from him?
“Did I hear you right? Are you restoring a Thunderbird?” A man in his midfifties came over, shorter than Mike’s tall frame. His paunch hung over his belted jeans, and he extended a hand to Mike, then Georgie. “I’m Terry Russell, and this here’s my beauty.”
Georgie squinted while she took her time walking to the front, examining the minute details even he couldn’t miss. The cherry trim, the whitewall tires, the bright chrome. Georgie peered into the open engine, the hood extended upward. “My guess is ’65 hardtop model with rear-wheel drive, and a V-8.”
“The lady knows her stuff.” The man whistled. And Georgie nodded.
Mike stood behind her and placed his hand on Georgie’s shoulder. “This lady,” he stressed each syllable, conveying his deep pleasure, “is a top-notch mechanic. Best I’ve ever met.”
Russell smiled and then pointed to the metal running beneath the driver’s-side windows. “Who’s doing the restoration on your Thunderbird? Hate to ruin a great car with an amateur effort.”
Georgie bristled. “No chance of that. If you’re ever in Hollydale, visit Max’s Auto Repair and ask for Georgie Bennett.”
Another man ventured their way. “Georgie Bennett?” A grin came over his lean face, and he snapped his fingers. “You worked on my Thunderbird in Salem. I never forget a first-rate mechanic.”
Her shoulders relaxed enough so Mike could step back and let her appreciate the compliment. “Thank you.” Her surprise came through.
“Bert Quinn’s the name.” Quinn clapped Russell on his back. “Georgie knows what she’s doing. Cut her some slack. She’s the best.”
Russell held up his hand and tipped his baseball cap toward her. “Sorry. If Bert vouches for you, you’re good. Just gets my goat when someone watches a YouTube video and thinks they’re an expert. No offense meant.”
Georgie dipped her head, her hair bouncing with the motion. “None taken.” She turned to Quinn. “Is your Thunderbird here?”
Quinn coughed and glanced at the ground. “Not long after the restoration, I drove her to a car show. On my way home a drunk driver totaled her. Thought she’d be a tank and last forever, but I never saw that Humvee coming.”
“That’s an absolute shame.” Georgie frowned. “She was a beauty.”
Quinn agreed. “Been looking for another one for quite some time. None of them bring back the beauty of my Big Red.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “If you hear of anyone wanting to sell their vintage Ford, whether Mustang or Thunderbird, give me a call. That card has my contact info.”
“I’ve returned to the everyday mechanics of car repair, so I won’t have any leads.” She handed him the card, but he pushed it back.
“Keep it. You never know. What were you saying about renovating a Thunderbird?”
Rachel pulled on Mike’s jacket, and he glanced down. “Daddy, I’m hungry, and you promised me funnel cake.”
Bert Quinn. Salem, Oregon. Former Thunderbird owner. Mike filed away the mental note and reached for Rachel’s hand. “I most certainly did.” As much as he’d like to stay and talk to Quinn about his Thunderbird, this wasn’t the right place. This was the fresh start he’d wanted, an owner who’d treasure Miss Brittany, and he was going to grab it.
“One funnel cake coming up.” He bobbed his head at Quinn and Russell. “Nice to meet both of you.”
Georgie shook Quinn’s hand and moved closer to Mike. “His Thunderbird has been in the family forever. It’s not for sale, but if I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Can I have your business phone number to follow up with that?”
Quinn handed her a pen and one of his business cards. Georgie scribbled something and gave the card and pen back.
Yanking on Mike’s arm, Rachel turned to him and smiled. “You can pick out the topping, Daddy.”
“Hey, Mike, are you going to buy me one for bringing you?” Georgie flashed her own smile at him.
His insides took on the consistency of molten lava. She always had a sweet tooth that could match Rachel’s.
“Not to mention the cut-rate deal I’m giving you on putting Humpty Dumpty together again.”
Keeping his focus on the food tents, he refused to look back at Quinn, Russell or Russell’s Thunderbird. Instead, Humpty Dumpty, falling off the wall and shattering to bits, played over and over at the back of his mind. Sure as heck, when she discovered he’d intended to sell the Thunderbird all along, she’d have the power to smash his heart into a million pieces.
Like the fabled egg, he might have no one able to make him whole again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GEORGIE GUNNED THE engine of the Prius and reached for her travel mug of coffee but found only air. She must have left it on the kitchen counter. What a start to her Monday morning. Waking up late meant no breakfast; plus, she’d forgotten her morning infusion of caffeine. Maybe she could sweet-talk Heidi into running across the street to Holly Days Diner. Even better, the Busy Bean beckoned to her, and she lost no time pulling in to the parking lot.
Getting coffee for Heidi and Travis, too, was a bonus.
With an extra spring to her step, she hurried to the entryway, where a departing customer kept the door open for her. She smiled her thanks.
“I’m telling you. I love Hollydale, and I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t believe it. Georgie Bennett is no thief.” Mike’s voice boomed and her smile faded away.
“Mike.” Connie, the owner of the Book Nook, tapped Mike on his shoulder as Georgie met her gaze.
“Let me finish, Connie. This is important. Georgie is part of this town, and I’m happy she’s moved back.” His shoulders stiffened, stretching the navy blue of his starched uniform.
“So am I,” Georgie announced. She loved that Mike was willing to stick up for her, but some battles were worth waging for herself, and this was one of them. “I didn’t steal from Max or anyone else in Hollydale.”
Mike turned around, his belief in her on full display. His radio crackled, and he grabbed the transceiver and listened.
Georgie approached as he sent a wistful glance in her direction. “I have to go. Later?”
Definitely. A whole week had passed too quickly since the car show what with his schedule and her trip to Charlotte. She nodded and watched him leave before facing everyone. Walk out or stay? Before she could make up her mind, Connie Witherspoon stepped toward her.
“Georgie, I haven’t stopped by Max’s to say hello.”
Just a minute ago Mike had defended her to Connie. What had changed? “For the record, I am not a thief.”
“I should have realized that when I talked to Donahue. When you were a kid, you brought back that twenty I’d given you as change by mistake. That, along with the great work you did on my mom’s car. She’s
still talking about how quiet her car is running now and she’s recommending you to her friends. Come by the bookstore soon. Don’t be a stranger, and we’ll get to know you all over again.” Connie patted Georgie on the shoulder before leaving with her coffee.
At the counter, Georgie ordered for herself and the Crowes. She reached for her wallet, and Deb, the owner, held up her hand. “How about a trade? No charge, and I’ll throw in those cinnamon-sugar biscuits you love so much, if you’ll change my oil for free this afternoon.”
This was what Georgie had missed about Hollydale. People looking out for one another. Georgie extended her hand. “It’s a deal.”
Deb smiled. “Welcome home, Georgie.”
* * *
WITH A FLOURISH, Georgie dabbed the finishing touches to the new coat of paint on the primed idler parts. The renovation was coming along faster than anticipated. Too fast for her liking.
After Miss Brittany was reassembled, there’d be no excuses for Mike to drop by the repair shop. That part stunk worse than the solvent for removing the rust and grime.
Running the bristles under water, Georgie shifted her feet. Her evenings with Mike, Rachel and Beau had changed from a way to count down the weeks until she left Hollydale to her favorite time of day.
Now she dreaded countdowns. In a mere twenty-four hours, Mr. Reedy would pick up Beau. If that wasn’t hard enough, the day after that, Brett Cullinan was narrowing the candidate field from three to two now that the pit crew tests were complete. And excitement fought with concern over Max’s imminent return. He’d expect a decision about whether or not she intended to purchase the business.
Did she want to settle down?
What had begun as five weeks of torture had turned into the best five weeks of her life.
She wasn’t ready for it to end.
She didn’t want her time with Mike to end.
Whenever she had wanted a new adventure, she’d packed her bags and moved on. New customers and a renovation project for a friend of Miss Louise’s, warm greetings on her walks with Beau, and Mike. If those cues to stay were any closer to her face, they’d bite her nose. More than ever, she wasn’t ready to retrieve her suitcases from the storage room. It might even be time to put them away for good.
“Georgie. Do you want the good or bad news first?” Heidi’s voice broke through her reverie.
“I’m an optimist, so let’s get the bad out of the way.”
“A friend of Sheriff Donahue canceled their hundred-thousand-mile service for tomorrow,” said Heidi. “On the bright side, Natalie and Lucie are here. Wish I could stay—”
“But you and Travis are off to Baltimore this weekend.” Georgie finished the sentence for her. She’d have to talk to the sheriff soon. His misguided notion she had something to do with the theft had to end.
Heidi tilted her head toward the reception area. “I’ll serve your cookies before I leave, okay?”
Georgie wriggled out of her gloves and used the bathroom for a quick washup and to change out of her coveralls.
In the reception area Natalie jumped up and squealed, her bright pink boots standing out in the dimness of the room. She ran over and hugged Georgie. “I did it. I changed my oil this weekend.”
“Great job.” Georgie gave her a high five.
Before she settled next to Lucie, she snatched an oatmeal raisin cookie and savored the first bite. “How was your weekend?” she asked, the words a bit garbled but still comprehensible.
Lucie grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and nibbled on it. “Let’s talk about batteries instead.”
“What’s wrong?”
Lucie lowered the hand with her cookie to her lap. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
Georgie’s chest throbbed with hurt. Guess she’d been wrong about the past couple of weeks. Here she’d believed she was building friendships with them—sweet Natalie, with her frilly dresses and cowboy boots, and hard-bitten but optimistic Lucie, whose floral shirts were always smudged or spotted with something. Until now, staying aloof had served her and her independence well, or so she’d thought. Friendship wasn’t overrated, but it was harder than replacing the brake booster on a pickup truck.
Maybe she’d been wrong about Natalie and Lucie. What if they thought of her as just a teacher and not as a friend?
If she’d been wrong about that, what else had she been wrong about since her return to Hollydale?
Georgie retreated to her end of the couch and rubbed her temples before shoving the rest of the cookie into her mouth. Tasteless.
“Hey, you hurt Georgie’s feelings.” Natalie defended her, and Georgie loved her for it.
The emptiness still remained.
Mortification crossed Lucie’s face as her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Georgie. I just didn’t think you’d want to hear the latest. I lost another job.”
And here she’d been thinking about herself. Wow. Friendship was a two-way street.
“Next time call me right away to tell me bad news. I’ll be over with a pint of ice cream and two spoons.”
Lucie’s laugh came out as more of a sob. “A pint would do Mattie and Ethan.”
“Okay, a gallon and four spoons.”
“Five spoons.” Natalie inserted herself between them. “I’m part of this little group, too. Growing up, everyone always thought Becks and I were bookends. I love my twin. We’ll always have a bond that can’t be broken, but she lives in California, and I don’t. I need y’all, too.”
So many misconceptions based on appearances. Georgie glanced at Lucie. “Will you be okay? Which job?”
“The temporary one. The owner’s daughter decided to come back from maternity leave after all. I still have your mom keeping me busy, although she’s getting better every day.”
There was strength inside Lucie that many had underestimated. Georgie switched her gaze to Natalie. For years Mike’s sisters had always been known as Becks-and-Natalie, the syllables all running together. But Natalie, while a wee bit flaky, possessed a deep caring side that matched her intellect.
As for herself?
They accepted her. Could Mike accept the real Georgie? He’d defended her today, so the answer must be yes.
Georgie cleared her throat. “The best way I can show how I feel about you two is to make sure nothing bad happens to either of you on the road. Batteries provide current to the motor. Without your battery, you can’t start your car.”
Georgie reached for her water bottle, the truth of what she’d said crashing into her. Without her friends, without Rachel and Mike, did she want a new start in Charlotte?
Had what she wanted been here in Hollydale all along?
* * *
“ON THREE, WE LIFT.” Mike’s gaze met Georgie’s, and she arched her eyebrows. “One, two, three.”
Together they lifted the dashboard. His grunt joined with hers, a herd of elephants in action. The dash weighed a ton. Nothing felt half as good as dropping that sucker into place. Already the Thunderbird seemed to preen from the attention and detail going into her restoration.
Georgie tightened a screw and stepped back. Mike checked out their handiwork with a satisfied smile. He and Georgie made a pretty good team. The car show from a couple of weeks ago had confirmed what he’d seemed to know forever.
Sweat dripped off his forehead, and he swiped at it with his shirtsleeve. With his parents back in town and taking care of Rachel, he’d run out of excuses to continue spending more time with Georgie.
“Break?” In the past month the shop had become as familiar to him as Georgie’s husky voice. As special, too.
“I’d like to finish the wiring...” Georgie glanced at him, and the left side of her mouth quirked up. “Sure.”
They walked past the auto bays, the first with a diesel truck, before passing a Kia. The whiff of oil and gasoline fumes use
d to make him lightheaded, but they no longer fazed him. On the other hand, Rachel still pinched her nose, refusing to hug him until he took a long, hot shower.
“How’s business?” He held the door open for her. Even with her independent streak, she allowed him this small courtesy. He loved anything he could do to make her life easier.
“It’s picking up. More people are asking for me. Today was our first Wednesday senior citizen discount day, and our business increased quite a bit.” Pride tinged her words. He smiled at the change steady business could make in a person’s outlook.
Georgie led him to the new minifridge behind the reception desk and handed him a bottle of cold water. He unscrewed the cap and swigged a long sip. The coolness quenched that parched spot in his throat.
“Thank you for what you said at the Busy Bean. How’s business on your end? Have the burglaries stopped altogether?”
“No new break-ins. Edwards and I are following up some promising leads. With the deadline to register to run for sheriff in thirteen days, Donahue is happy he’s running unopposed, and the atmosphere at work is lighter.”
Relief broke out on her face. “That’s good. Maybe we’ll see more of each other.”
Mike laid his hand over hers, warmth from the sheer presence of Georgie filling all the spots empty over the past years.
Empty since Caitlyn left? Or empty since he’d written that stupid letter to Georgie, choosing the sure thing over the right thing?
It didn’t matter. What mattered was Georgie was here, in Hollydale, and the car was bringing them together.
Best to find out if it had the power to drive them apart.
“Sheriff Donahue hired Jonathan Maxwell for one of the two vacant positions yesterday, so my schedule should start improving soon.” He smiled, the assurance more for him than her. “He’s new to the area but experienced in law enforcement.”
“I like your update.” She wrinkled her forehead and approached him until she was close enough to tap her finger on his shoulder.
