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Almost.
“You’re perfect for each other!” she exclaims, like I’ve missed the most obvious point in the world. “He works hard, does everything he can for his son—”
“His son?” That makes my eyebrows arch high. “Oh, Aunt Nancy, I don’t need someone in my life with a crazy ex-girlfriend and custody issues.”
“You’re doing it again,” she chides halfheartedly.
“What?” Even though I know exactly what she’s referring to.
“Assuming you know the story before you hear it. Don’t jump to conclusions, Meg, dear. You’ve had a rough time lately, and so has Craig Connelly. You both could use a good friend.” My aunt turns, her mug of tea in her hand, and proceeds to walk out of the kitchen.
I wilt, automatically feeling guilty. She’s right, but that doesn’t make hearing it any easier. “Where are you going?” I call after her.
“To drink my tea in my chair by the window. Then I’ll get you the number for Craig’s repair shop.”
“But he said he’d call us when he knew where things were at with my car.” I follow her into the living room.
“True,” She eases into her chair as smoothly as physically possible considering the state of her knee joints. “But unless I’m mistaken, your luggage is still in that car of yours, because I didn’t see it on the front porch. And I doubt you’ll want to be wearing my clothes.”
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, taking a seat on the couch across from her. “I didn’t think of my stuff until now.”
“I know.” She grins devilishly again over the rim of her mug. “Too busy thinking about the cute mechanic.”
“You’re relentless,” I chuckle.
“And you’re transparent,” she retorts, her grin never wavering.
***
Two cups of tea and way too many of the ginger cookies Aunt Nancy had me grab from the pantry later, I feel calmer and more relaxed than I have in ages. My aunt has always had that effect on me, with her easy conversation and comforting demeanor, and I’m thinking about how making the decision to move in with her might be the best decision I’ve ever made when she finally speaks again after a comfortable silence.
“I’d better get you the number for Craig’s shop.”
I shift my weight to pull my cell from my back pocket, waving it at her. “Just tell me what his shop is called. I’ll Google it.”
“You know, that thing isn’t going to work well here. We’ve got dead zones all over the place,” she explains, eyeing up the phone like it’s the devil reincarnate.
“This day and age, and there’s still crappy cell service here?” I look at her like she’s the devil reincarnate.
“This day and age, and you’d want someone to get a hold of you at any time, day or night?” She’s skeptical, and I don’t have to ask if Aunt Nancy owns or wants a cellphone.
“It’s a necessity,” I argue with a smirk.
“It’s a damn pain, that’s what it would be, having one of those things attached to your hip twenty-four seven.”
“Who’s the dramatic one now?” I chuckle. “I have three bars, so just give me his number.”
Aunt Nancy leans over the side of her reclining chair and pulls a thick book from the shelf under the end table. The sight of it has me pulling myself up into a sitting position, my eyes bulging from my head.
“Tell me that’s not a phonebook,” I say in wonder.
My aunt’s brows furrow as she turns the pages. “What the heck else would it be?”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I didn’t even know they made those anymore!” I’m still unable to hold in my sporadic chuckling when I realize she’s got her finger on a spot on the inside cover. “His last name starts with C. What are you looking at on the inside cover?”
Aunt Nancy turns the book towards me, and I see the words Craig’s repair shop scrawled inside in Uncle Doug’s handwriting. My heart twists slightly at the reminder that he’s gone, and I suddenly know why my aunt hasn’t gotten rid of the phonebook. Not only is it the old-fashioned way she prefers to do things, it’s a piece of her beloved husband she gets to keep.
“Craig’s repair shop, huh?” I say softly, trying to make light of the moment. “Such an original business name.”
