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“What’s up, sis?” he answered on the third ring.
“Have you ever heard of Johnson’s Auto in San Antonio?”
“Uh, not sure,” he said. “What’s up?”
“My car sounds like a crying baby,” Evie said.
Holt chuckled. “Can you be more specific?”
She explained all the sounds and what the attendant at the lube and oil shop had told her. “What if they try to charge me for a bunch of stuff here?”
“Well, you’re not driving your car as is,” he said. “Go inside and tell them what’s going on. When they diagnose it, call me.”
“Okay,” Evie said, feeling a little better. “Can you talk to them instead?”
“I could . . .” Holt drawled, “but this is a good opportunity for you do this on your own.”
“When I get my first real paycheck, I’m going to dump this beast.”
Holt laughed. “I bet you will, sis. And I wouldn’t blame you. The car has seen better days, but it’s important that you be safe. Want me to come and pick you up on Saturday?”
Evie knew if she said yes, her brother would do it. But he was busy keeping the entire family afloat. “No, worst case I’ll take the bus.”
“Ah.” Another laugh from Holt. “We’ll never hear the end of that, I’m sure.”
She cracked a smile. No, they would not.
