“Is that the town motto? ‘Black Timber: Could Be Worse’?” Her brows rise.
Oh, my… she’s feisty.
And I like it.
I chuckle and she breaks into what’s a grin, but not quite a smile… yet.
I pull out my phone. “I’ll make the calls. You and snowflake?—”
“Merry. This is Merry.”
I squat and scruffle the fur on the dog’s head. “Merry, you and my dog Bear will be good friends.”
I stand and she has to tip her head back to look up at me. She licks her lips and my eyes stay held to them. Soft pillows… that are blue.
“Yeah, you and Merry should get in my truck before the rest of turns blue like your lips.”
Her eyes widen. She rubs her lips and they brighten with flow of blood. “Shit. I have Smurf lips… great.”
She hustles back to my truck and Merry jumps into the back. My Ford F-250 is immaculately clean except for a thermos in the cup holder and a dog leash coiled neatly on the seat for Bear. Kendry climbs in the front and I watch as she adjusts the heat. I like that she doesn’t ask and just does. She watches as I pace the shoulder, phone pressed to my ear.
“You’ve reached Four Wheel Fix-It, we’re onholiday break until after January 1, probably come back on the second or third, maybe the fourth. Hell, might stay in Jamaica for the year.”
Well, that’s not going to be what she wants to hear.
I look back and give a soft smile. The answering machine still beeps. “Vern. Hey, it’s Calder Brennan. I have someone who really needs an emergency appointment. She’s really sweet and I think she’s having some sort of crisis. I really would like to get her?—”
The line clicks like someone answers. “Hey, Calder, it’s Toby.”
Vernon’s son. This is good news.
“Hey, Toby. So, are you still in Black Timber?”
“Nope. I’m in Denver with my girlfriend and her family, but I’m monitoring the biz cell phone and I saw it was you. I’ll be back next week and I can get to it then.”
“Three days?”
“Or it could be never…”
Toby is too much like his moody father.
“Okay, I’ll let her know and then I’ll text you back.”
“I’ll send the tow truck out. Where’s this car at?”
I give directions and then spin and watch as she diverts her gaze quickly. I have to remember sheseems emotionally compromised and I just want to be helpful. This is what people do in small towns— they help stranded people who drive cross-country in cars held together with prayer.
I grab her bags from the back of her car and jog back to the truck, bringing a gust of cold air with me as I open the back to place them on the floorboard and then climb into the driver’s seat.
I rub my hands together and hold them up to the heater. “So, I have good news and bad news… which do you want first?”
“Good news?” she says cautiously but making me think she’s probably a positive person.
“Tow truck’s on the way. Should be here in twenty.”
“And the bad news?”
“The mechanics are out of town and it’s going to be just us for a couple days.”
