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“Wellll,” Faye says, extending the word with a shy grin. “Thelma and I were thinkin’ that she should have a booth for the bed and breakfast. I could pitch in, of course. Maybe throw together some things that haven’t sold yet at my sales on a table as well.”
“Are you sure you’d be up for that?” I ask Thelma.
She’s been moving around like a bull rider for her age and condition, but I hate to see her push it too far, too fast, and trigger any nasty setbacks.
“You’ll need that big dog leash you use for the pig to keep me home, sonny.” Thelma flashes her pearly-white dental implants. “Heck, with Shelly Bean at the helm, I’ve been resting so much that I’m fixing to get bed sores. We’re ready to party. We just didn’t know if all the booths were taken yet or not.”
The shine on both their lined faces proves it’s something they’re chomping at the bit to do.
“I can add you to the list, if it’s all right with Shel,” I say, flashing her a knowing look.
She nods.
“Can’t see why not. It won’t be that much work getting you a space.”
“Ohhh, lovely. Except, I’ll need a strong hand muscling everything over there Saturday morning,” Faye says with a pained look. “But you’ll be busy with the cars, won’t you, West?”
“Most people are setting up their booths on Friday night,” I explain. “We can move everything over then.” Recent crime events have me adding, “The building will be locked up at ten p.m. that night, so everything should be safe inside.”
“You really won’t mind?” Faye asks. “I know it’s asking a lot, but we have to be there, West. We know it’s a big part of your fundraisers, and bless you, we want to help.”
“I don’t mind.”
I also won’t mind if she unloads a few more items she’s been trying so hard to sell to strangers. The sooner she runs out, the better for my peace of mind.
“I’ll get your names listed and your tables assigned. I’ll handle the muscle so you won’t miss the fun.”
“Thank you, dearie!” Faye pats my arm. “This is so exciting!”
The two of them start chattering a mile a minute about tablecloths, decorations, and carving pumpkins.
As soon as I’m done eating, I stand. “I’ll get my stuff downstairs and then head over to meet Faulk. He’s helping optimize the new system with practically everything installed.”
“Let me help.” Shelly sets down her napkin and stands up.
“No, finish eating,” I tell her.
I’m not sure I have any room left in my head for soft green eyes and strawberry lips I constantly want to sink my teeth in. I don’t need that distraction.
“I’m done,” she says, already swishing her hips to the kitchen as she stuffs half a sandwich in her mouth before I can say another word.
Damn her.
There’s no sense in arguing, I guess.
After Shel returns, we collect the boxes and carry them through the sitting room to the basement door, taking our time on the narrow concrete steps leading down.
“Is Grandpa’s Corvette really worth major moolah?” she asks while we’re heading downstairs.
“Yep. There were only a handful ever made.” Marty didn’t know that either, and I wonder if even Doug and old man Reed realized just how rare this model was when he bought it. “I helped him confirm its authenticity years ago. We matched the VIN numbers with the original twenty from ’67. It’s the real deal.”
“Dang. Then why not put it in the show? I know you’re worried about idiots banging into it but...sounds like it’d be a once in a lifetime sight.”
I shrug, shaking my head.
“I told Marty and Thelma—the only other people who know about the car—that it’s better to keep it mum unless Thelma ever decides to sell. Or even if it’s part of your inheritance with Marty someday. There’s no telling how much interest you’d attract, and not the good kind.”
She pauses, chewing her bottom lip.
