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ChapterFive
SAVANNAH
Not having a wide range of clothes to choose from, I opted for my jeans and a tank top to wear to the bar with Grace. My healed boots took the outfit up a notch, but kept it casual with my jacket added to the mix. I filled my purse with the necessities and brushed a hand through my hair, before hurrying to the garage.
The deep sleep had helped ground me. Food would help more. I was suddenly starving, ready to get my fill. But I needed to get my story straight in my mind during the walk over to Grace’s.
I was a struggling artist from Idaho who had broken down on the way to my aunt’s funeral after heading there, more so for the reading of the will. It was a solid story, but I wasn’t comfortable with the thought of lying to Grace. It sucked that I felt the promise of a friendship there, Grace’s humor similar to my own. Regret spiraled in the pit of my stomach that I was about to base it all on lies.
You’ll be out of here in a few days, I reminded myself.
Get in, do the job, get out. That’s all I had to do. If Donovan wasn’t my target, I’d move on. If he was my target, I’d knock him out, deliver him to Gideon, and get my uncle the hell out of Dodge and never look back.
“Hey Grace,” I greeted warmly when I reached the garage. It made me smile seeing Grace wearing white shorts and a light pink shirt with a wrench in her hand as she frowned at the engine before her.
“Sorry,” she replied, looking up from the bonnet. “I was just contemplating whether to attempt a quick tweak, but I’m taking your arrival as an intervention. Especially in these shorts.”
I laughed. “Put the wrench down. Hands above your head. And back away slowly.”
Smiling, she did so, grabbing her wallet and shoving it into her pocket. “Consider me backed away and oil-free. My mother would be proud.” She linked her arm through mine, turned off the lights, then dragged me along behind her so she could close the shutters to the garage. “I can’t help it. Cars are my passion. I love seeing them transform from rust buckets to their former glory. It’s a habit of mine.”
“How did you get into it?”
“Well,” she began, leading me along a street that headed in the direction of the town center. “My dad got me into it at first. He’d tinker on his own car every now and again and took on the garage when Old Joe died. He was the guy who kept the town’s vehicles together with shoestrings and gum, my pops used to say. My dad took on the tow truck and played around some. But he was never really interested. He let me take on more and more jobs when I learned to do more than change a spark plug.”
“So you’re a mechanic and a restorer of cars?” I nodded with a smile. “Now I’m impressed.”
“And you’re an artist, you said?”
“I am.” At least that part was the truth. Over the years, I'd done a few commissioned works for people. “I love it. Like you, I guess, seeing something come from nothing. And I also like to get my hands dirty. Only with paint instead of grease.”
“I knew we were kindred spirits,” she replied, tenderly squeezing my arm. “I’m glad you broke down near the creek.”
“Yeah.” I laughed, the sound of it tinny to my ears. “But I’d say I’m the lucky one.” My voice faded off into a cradle of hopelessness as I let Grace lead the way.
The Red Riding Hood was busy to say it was mid-week. A few older patrons sat at the bar watching a game while the rest clustered around tables or played pool.
A few stopped what they were doing to look when we entered, but Grace ignored them and led me to an empty table. “Ignore the gawks,” she said over the chatter. “It’s because you’re a newbie. It’s always the same.”
“Whatcha drinking, Grace?” a server asked as she approached us. She waved hi to me, so I quickly waved back, playing the part of perky and stranded.
“Two beers, please. For now.”
“Alright. Two beers coming up.” She nodded toward me. “Is this the woman whose truck broke down?”
“That it is,” Grace replied. “Lianne, this is Savannah. Savannah, this is Lianne.”
“Hi, Lianne.”
“Hi there. Welcome to Moonlight Creek. Your truck couldn’t be in safer hands. Any food I can get for you ladies?”
“Yes, please,” I pleaded, my stomach rumbling with hunger. “I’ll just take a loaded burger with fries.”
“Same,” Grace told Lianne. “And a side of onion rings. And chicken wings. Pile ‘em up. You know me and my gut.”
Lianne smiled, shaking her head. “Where you put it all, Grace Henderson, I’ll never know.”
The server bustled off to place their order. Grace rubbed her hands in anticipation.
