In High Cotton

by Kelsey Browning

  The poster was beautiful. In the past, they’d been playful caricatures of a silly pig in overalls or riding a tractor. Not this time. Tassy had designed a pig portrait with a stained glass effect. Pretty enough to frame. Now that was Sera’s kind of pig.

  Once the meeting was over, Sera was so excited about the leads she’d discovered that she stopped by the Piggly Wiggly and treated herself to a package of Mike & Ikes. Because nothing said “we’re onto something!” like the taste of faux fruit-flavored candy.

  When she made it back to Summer Haven, the entire box of candy now in her stomach, Abby Ruth and Maggie sat in the parlor watching reruns of House Squatters. Sera walked in and stood in front of them, blocking their view. “You won’t believe what I found out at the High on the Hog meeting.”

  “That everyone except for you will be eating pork that day?” Leaning almost horizontal to try to see the TV, Abby Ruth shooed Sera to move out of the way.

  “Real funny. It wouldn’t hurt you to cut back on the meat, but no. I have a lead for the Ellerbee case.” Then she took something out of her small purse and held it between two fingers. “And this.”

  “A hundred bucks?”

  “Yeah. I accidentally got a donation. Long story.” She wadded it into a ball and tossed it to Maggie. “Add it to the car fund.”

  Maggie snagged it out of the air and flattened it on the table in front of her.

  “But I did get a lead,” Sera continued. “A good one.”

  Abby Ruth’s head swiveled back to Sera, and she popped up to a sitting position. “Oh, yeah?”

  “That’s great,” Maggie said, but her tone didn’t support her words.

  “Turns out there’s only one really good welder in town.” Sera grinned, enjoying being the one with the insider information. “Joe at the muffler shop!”

  “But he’s a nice guy,” Maggie said. “He can’t be involved with something shady.”

  “He can be a nice guy on the outside and nefarious on the inside,” Sera said. “Not only is he the only one in town with the skills, but he’s offering to do the welding for the High on the Hog event for free, because—get this…he’s come into some unexpected money.”

  Abby Ruth’s eyebrows shot up. “We should definitely go check him out.”

  “I wonder if he’s open now,” Sera said. “We could do a quick ride by. Maybe scope out the place for any suspicious-looking work. I’ll drive.”

  Abby Ruth stood, but Maggie didn’t budge.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” Sera asked.

  “Angelina dropped by while you were gone.”

  “That’s why she was late to the meeting?”

  Maggie held out her hand, and in the flat of her palm lay her prison badge.

  “What in the world—” Realization struck Sera like that tree limb had crashed into the Tucker. “She didn’t.”

  “Of course, she never confessed to taking it,” Maggie said.

  “She knows about Lil?”

  “Another thing she didn’t come out and say.”

  “If she knew for sure, wouldn’t she have gloated?”

  “Who in hell understands the way that woman’s mind works,” Abby Ruth grumbled.

  “All I know is she was snickering as she left.” Maggie sighed. “Which means I have to talk to Lil. How about we check out Joe the Muffler Man after?”

  Sera wrapped her arms around her friend and squeezed. “It’s all going to be fine.”

  “Right now,” Maggie said into her shoulder, “that’s just a little hard to believe.”

  The next morning, when Maggie handed the prison guard her visitor badge, the uniformed woman looked her up and down. Tilted her head left and right. “When you were here just last week, you sure did look a might skinnier.”

  If Maggie didn’t already want to…to…to do something really bad to Angelina for swiping her badge, she sure as heck did now. All these months of being a little more careful about what she ate and a lot more active, and now Maggie felt like a fat girl again.

  The guard nodded and said, “Ask me, a woman looks better with a layer of meat on her bones.”

  So there, Angelina. Skinny girls aren’t all that.

  Maggie smiled at the guard, then headed inside the visitors’ room and took the table where she and Lil normally sat. When the inmates filed in, Maggie’s heart dropped to her toes. Lord, Lil looked even more haggard than she had the last time Maggie had visited. The skin on her face was pale and looked as thin as tracing paper. And why was she moving so slowly—almost like a little Japanese gal with her feet all bound up.

  But with as much backbone as ever, Lil gave her a smile when she sat down. “This is a surprise visit.”

  “Is it really, Lil?”

  She seemed to shrink lower into her chair and avoided Maggie’s gaze. “She told everyone, didn’t she?”

  Maggie sighed to cover the fear jumping up her throat. It had been too much to hope Angelina hadn’t made use of the visitor’s badge. “I don’t think so. The skinny little witch, no offense to Abby Ruth’s Halloween costume, brought my badge back to Summer Haven yesterday. I came as soon as I could. I have Sera and Abby Ruth out scouting for any gossip.”

  “Should’ve known better than to trust her.”

  “Honestly, Lil, she was cagey when she came by the house. Never admitted straight out she’d been here. What’s going on?”

  Lil slumped a little farther. “It’s a mess all around.”

  “Is she blackmailing you?”

  “She definitely wants something I’ve got.”

  “Nothing new about that,” Maggie said. “Tell me what it is, and the gals and I will take care of it for you.”

  “Not this time, Mags.”

  Maggie reached across and gripped Lil’s hands. To heck with what the guards thought. They could chastise her if they wanted, but right now, her best friend needed her. “We’ve done a good job of keeping all this under our hats for over nine months now. We can’t give up the fight just because Miss Stick Her Nose in Everything is trying to bring you down.”

  “No, I meant I’ll take care of it myself when I come home.”

  “But Angelina’s an impatient sort. Who knows if she’ll keep your secret for another few months?”

  Lil’s hands shook beneath Maggie’s. “She won’t have to keep it for months.”

  “Why not?”

  Lil lowered her voice. “I can’t explain everything to you here, but suffice it to say I’ll be coming home even earlier than I thought.”

  Maggie’s fingers contracted around Lil’s before she could control them. In delight or fear. It was a toss-up. “Oh, that’s…wonderful. How much earlier?”

  “The warden told me it could be any day now.”

  The words any and day pinballed around in Maggie’s brain. God had a very interesting sense of humor. But why did it have to be now, when the Tucker wasn’t exactly at its prime? “Surely you have to go through review and—”

  “It’s something called compassionate release. The prison system sometimes grants early release to older inmates when they have terminal illnesses.”

  Her hand still around Lil’s, Maggie jumped to her feet, almost dragging Lil clear across the table. “Oh my God, Lil, what do you have? How long do you have?”

  “Hush and sit down,” Lil commanded, some of her normal spine in full evidence. “We can’t talk about this here, but I am not dying.”

  Thank the Lord. “But…but…”

  “But that’s why I’ll take care of Angelina once I get out.”

  Chapter 12

  Even after the hour and a half drive back to Summer Shoals, Maggie’s nerves hadn’t stopped jumping from Lil’s news. All she could picture was the devastation on Lil’s face if she ever laid eyes on the damaged front end of that so-called Tucker Torpedo.

  She wasn’t in any shape to talk with Abby Ruth or Sera about the news of Lil’s imminent release, so she went straight to bed and prayed tomorrow she’d have en
ough courage to move forward and come up with a solution that would actually work.

  The next morning, Maggie’s feet hit the ground and she strapped on her will of iron. She didn’t have a moment to waste because she was not about to let her best friend down.

  Maggie made a beeline for the kitchen to grab the phone book.

  “What are you in such a stinkin’ hurry about?” Abby Ruth asked.

  She flipped to body shops. Then thought better of it. Everyone in this town knew Lil and that car.

  She couldn’t have it fixed in Summer Shoals. Panic raced down her spine, and sweat pooled under her breasts.

  She went to the computer and Googled body shops, but the list included places in Iowa and New Jersey. She needed help. She buried her head in her hands. This helplessness was like a black, sooty taste on the back of her tongue.

  Life in Virginia had never been this stressful. If she could only turn back the clock. If George were still alive, she’d even agree to open the second store he’d wanted so much.

  But the past was yesterday. A memory to hang onto, not a crutch to face tomorrow.

  “What’s wrong, Mags?” Sera asked softly.

  Maggie raised her head, brushed away a tear of frustration. “Lil’s getting out of jail.”

  “Oh my gosh, that’s such great news! When?” Sera whirled around, her skirt poofing out in her joyous dance. But she soon stopped and stared at Maggie. “Those are happy tears, right?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I’ve got to get the car fixed…and fast. She’s coming home soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “She doesn’t know, but apparently there’s some compassionate release loophole, and the warden has requested it happen as soon as possible. I should be the happiest girl on Earth, but if Lil comes home before the car is fixed, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t put it in a shop here in town, and I don’t know how to Google body shops and—”

  “Take a breath, Maggie.”

  Maggie sucked in a giant-sized breath and let it out. “It’s a mess.”

  “It’s wonderful news. Now scoot over.” Sera bumped her hip and slid into the chair with her. “I can find a place to fix the car, but I thought you were going to find someone who specialized in Tuckers. Didn’t Chuck give you some advice?”

  “Oh, he gave me advice all right.”

  Abby Ruth propped herself in the doorjamb. “So what’s the problem?”

  Maggie couldn’t hide the truth any longer. These girls were her friends, and their friendship was more important than the disreputable details about that car. “The car you thought was so darned valuable? It’s a big fat fake.”

  Abby Ruth drew up to her full height. “What do you mean?”

  “The thing isn’t a Tucker. It’s a kit car. A Bondo-filled heap of heavy metal pretending to be a Tucker. The engine isn’t even in the right place.”

  Abby Ruth’s face went slack, not a great look on her. “I’ll be damned.”

  “The only good news is it’ll be way cheaper to fix.”

  Meanwhile, Sera’s fingers flew across the keys. “I found a list of five body shops about thirty minutes out of town. Is that far enough?”

  “I sure hope so,” Maggie said.

  Her lips and jaw tight, Abby Ruth said, “Just point-blank ask them if they know the Summers or Fairviews when you call.” She picked up the phone and shoved it into Maggie’s hand.

  Maggie swept away her tears and dialed the first one on the list. They were backed up and couldn’t even assess the damage for three weeks. The second was out of business and the third knew Lil. On the fourth try, she struck platinum. Forehand’s Body Shop had never heard of the Summers or the Fairviews and could see her today.

  “We’re in business,” Maggie said. “He’s out doing an estimate for someone. He’s going to stop by and take a look at the car. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  Sera jotted down three more phone numbers on a piece of paper and handed them to Maggie. “Insurance. Just in case it doesn’t work out, we can call these next.”

  Maggie tucked the backup numbers into her back pocket and went out on the front porch to wait for Mr. Forehand. Please be able to fix it. And fast.

  She paced the porch for what seemed like an hour, but only fifteen minutes had passed. She forced herself to go inside and make one of her special batches of tea. At least that would pass the time.

  With her tea chilling in a pitcher chock full of tiny square ice cubes, Maggie set a tray with the tea and glasses on the front porch. She poured herself a glass and tried to calm her nerves. Maybe she should have kicked up the recipe this time.

  An hour later, when a white pickup truck with “Forehand’s Body Shop” and colorful flames painted down the sides pulled in front of the house, she forced herself not to race down the stairs and hug the stranger who got out.

  “I’m Dennis Forehand,” he said, shoving his hand out toward her.

  “Maggie.” She shook his hand, sorry she hadn’t wiped them on her pants because hers was sweaty. “The car is this way.”

  He followed her to the garage. When she leaned over to lift the garage door, he got there first and said with a smile, “Let me get that for you, pretty lady.”

  What was it with all these nice men lately?

  The garage door rumbled into the rafters, and Maggie flipped the light switch, the florescent lights casting an operating-room white glow on the space.

  “Nice paint. Waltz blue.” Dennis let out a long whistle at the sight of the car. “I’ve never seen one of these in person.”

  And you still haven’t. She let him admire the impostor a little longer.

  “Looks like you took a big old whack to the hood panel there. At least the Cyclops lamp is okay. That would’ve been impossible to fix.” He fingered the hood ornament. “This has already been replaced once, I’m guessing.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  He looked up at her. “What’s not?”

  “The car. It’s not a Tucker. It’s a replica. There’s a motor under that hood.”

  “Get outta here.”

  “No kidding. But I need it restored to its previous perfection.”

  He surveyed the damage, then popped the hood and looked underneath. He ran his hands along the metal and raised and lowered the hood a couple times. “I can take care of the dent, and I’m the best paint guy for miles. But the hood ornament…well, that’s outta my league. You’ll have to find someone to make you one of those.”

  “How much will it cost to fix the car?”

  He scribbled some figures on a piece of paper and handed it to Maggie.

  Oh. Ow. The number bounced around in her head, making her a little dizzy. All her prayers for a fix they could afford weren’t going to be answered. She had no idea how she’d pay for it, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “How quickly can you do it?”

  “It’ll take me two weeks.”

  “If I bring the hood ornament, will you install it?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Make it a week and a half and you have a deal.”

  “Done,” he said. “Bring me the car tomorrow and we’ll get started immediately. I’ll let you know when she’s ready to be picked up.”

  In her van, Sera and Abby Ruth followed Maggie to deliver the Tucker to the body shop. Sera was starting to enjoy serving as the SHHgroup chauffeur, even leaving one of their company cards with the shop’s receptionist.

  Once the Tucker was all settled, it was time to tackle the next big task of the day. They headed back into Summer Shoals and slowly rolled past the muffler shop.

  Bright sparks lit up one bay like Fourth of July fireworks so someone was obviously inside. As Sera parked her van, it did a shimmy-shake dance before finally settling into park.

  “Is that Joe?” Abby Ruth pointed to the man wearing coveralls and a welder’s mask.

  “Hard to tell since we can’t see his face,” Maggie said, her tone dry.

  Abby
Ruth grabbed the door handle. “Then let’s find out. Sooner we take this guy down, the sooner Colton pays us.”

  “We can’t just go in there accusing him. We need a plan,” Maggie said.

  “I could pretend I need something for High on the Hog,” Sera said, “but I don’t know what that would be. Maybe some holding pens for the piglets?”

  “I have a better idea.” Abby Ruth grabbed a tie-dyed T-shirt from the van’s back floorboard. Then she scooted out the side door.

  Sera and Maggie rushed to follow her to the back of the van. Something about Abby Ruth having a better idea made Sera’s chakras vibrate with nervousness. “What are you doing?”

  Abby Ruth twisted the shirt into a long, thick tube, wrapped it around the van’s tailpipe and tugged. Pretty as you please, a whole chunk of metal clanged to the pavement.

  “Hey,” Sera protested. “What’d you do that for?”

  “You need a new muffler.”

  “Well, I do now.”

  “Consider it a gift from Hollis Dooley, and a gift to the environment.” Abby Ruth elbowed Sera in the side, then marched toward the open bay door, tailpipe in hand as if she planned to joust Joe. Just short of the entry to the garage, she paused. “Okay. Y’all need to take this hunk o’ junk in there and chat him up about Sera needing a new muffler. Sera, you keep our friend Joe engaged while Maggie takes a snoop around. I’m going out back to see if I can find anything suspicious.”

  “What are we looking for exactly?” Maggie asked. “I highly doubt he’ll have sculptures displayed on his workbenches.”

  “You’re right,” Abby Ruth agreed. “But we’ve seen Colton’s studio. We know what kind of stuff he has sitting around. Those wire connector thingies wouldn’t normally be in a muffler shop. Antique anythings, those wooden rulers Colton loves. You get the idea.”

  Abby Ruth winked and dropped to a crouch. Seconds later, she was gone.

  “Do you ever worry she’s too good at that?” Maggie’s attention was focused on where Abby Ruth had disappeared around the side of the building.

  “All the time.” Sera led the way into the shop, swinging the rusty tail pipe as she walked.