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Half Italian Already
I shake my head.“Anything is fine. It doesn’t matter.”
The glance Vic sends me is more than a little mischievous. “If you don’t pick something, I’ll just have to bring you one of everything.”
Losing it in front of my daughter is not an option. She’s stopped eating and is eyeing our visitor with great interest, so I make the introduction. “Sophie, this isVic.”
“Bic,” she says magnanimously.
“Hiya, Sophie.” His eyes are bright with amusement and what looks like delight. “How’s your pancake?”
“Pantate.” She grabs a piece from her plate and offers it to him. He accepts it with grave solemnity and nibbles a bit off the end before giving it back, then raises his eyebrows atme.
Despite myself, I’m charmed, but I try not to let it show. “Eggs. Scrambled.” My stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly. “Okay, fine. A Denver omelet.”
“Right. See ya, Sophie.”
He’s gone before she says softly, “Thee ya, Bic.”
* * *
Gina brings the apple juice,gives us a smile, and is off again. Sophie’s eating with gusto, so I don’t sample her pancake in case she wants more than her usual. To occupy myself, I pull a notepad and pen from my purse and start making a list of priorities.
Someplace to live. A job. Both of those in a spot that’s far enough off the beaten path that I won’t be found. I’m not sure this town qualifies, and anyway, I need to avoid overbearing do-gooders.
I’ve got a cheap burner phone to replace the regular cell I left behind, but I wonder if I should try to get a fake ID. I have no idea how to even go about that. Papers – investigate, I jotdown.
I’m still thinking when half a dozen plates land on my table. Besides the omelet there’s bacon, sausage, country potatoes, toast, and a bowl of fruit. Slowly, I raise my eyes to Vic, who’s sitting across from me again.
“Comes with the omelet,” he says blandly. “Except the fruit, and that’s for your girl. Whatever the two of you don’t eat, we can box up. But listen – you ever done any waitressing?”
Oh geez. Now he wants to give me a job? “Vic --”
“See, Cait’s only in today because I’m short-handed. Now that she’s a married woman, she won’t be working here anymore, at least not regular. And Gina’s getting hitchedsoon.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m just here for theday.”
Vic leans back and regards me in a way that sends unease skittering up my spine. For a moment, I have wild notions of some kind of Twilight Zone episode where it’s impossible to leave, and the road out of town only leads back in. “What?”
“Thing is, Dante looked at yourcar.”
I knew this was coming, but it still irks me. “Hewhat?”
“He’s a mechanic. It’s what hedoes.”
“He runs the parts store,” I retort in a pathetic effort at splitting hairs. I know I’m not being rational, but Gilda is all I’ve got, my only possession outside of Sophie’s bare necessities. It feels like a violation for him to look at her without my permission. “Anyway, I lockedher.”
Vic doesn’t tell me I’m acting like a crazy woman. “Cars are easy to open if you know how, and you said she was overheating. He didn’t want you driving out of town and breakingdown.”
Exactly what he told me. I know in my gut, if I’m honest, that Gilda needs more than water and oil. “All right. Lay it onme.”
“The good news is, your radiator’s okay. Bad news, you’ve got some cracked hoses and you need a new water pump. Plus, your tires are threadbare.”
I close my eyes. “I can’t afford all that.” It comes out in a whisper. “I can barely afford a quart ofoil.”
Vic waits until I’m looking at him again. “You could stay here a few days, work off your bill. Honestly, Heather, you can’t afford not to fixher.”
I sigh. “You’re right, of course. But a motel …”
