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Abby raised a disbelieving brow at me. She’d been present when Jake towed Berta, and she knew he wasn’t pleased with the prospect of reviving my baby.
“Jake knows how important she is to me.” A tingle ran down my spine when his name traveled over my lips. The fact was, Jake didn’t understand my attachment to Berta, but he would. I’d make him understand. A fire grew in my chest. I needed to talk to him, but Gia didn’t need to know that.
I was determined to get Berta back on the road, and that was the only thing that mattered.
Gia dipped her chin. “If she’s not serving your business, you need to think about replacing her.”
My heart skipped a beat at her words. She was an amazing businesswoman because she didn’t have the pesky emotional attachments that others did, or maybe she’d never lost anyone. She had a big family who seemingly loved and cared for each other. She couldn’t understand how devastating the loss of my grandmother was. But then, I hadn’t confided in these new friends about it.
Abby reached over to pat my hand. “You don’t want to be stuck on the side of the road again, do you? It’s not safe.”
Jake might not be there next time. There was comfort as he took charge of that situation. When was the last time anyone worried about me or my safety? My parents were more concerned about my perceived failures.
Gia’s lips turned downward. “Frankly, it’s not good for business. I need to know that you’ll arrive on time. The couples depend on us to make their dreams a reality. We don’t want to get a reputation for flowers not showing up on time. I worry about these things so that prospective brides don’t have to.”
I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what was at stake. “I understand. I’ll make sure she’s ready to go.”
Gia nodded tightly before she rounded the desk and sat in her chair. She turned to our calendar for the next month, going over the details we’d confirmed many times before. Gia was nothing if not thorough.
The meeting wrapped up soon after, and I rushed out, needing to see Berta for myself.
Outside the building, I called for a driver since my only means of transportation were Berta and an old bike I kept at Grandma’s when I visited her over the summers. Jake’s garage was located on the edge of the town’s historic area.
He and his friend, Ryan, had taken over another garage that went out of business. They’d painted and restored the old building, but it looked much the same as I imagined it had twenty years ago. White walls, a gently sloping roof, and blue lettering declaring itHarbor Garage & Service Repair Center.
My baby was parked on the side of the building, looking forlorn and abandoned. I walked around it and inspected it for any damage. The problem was, she looked exactly the same as the day Jake towed her away.
My stomach sank. What if Jake and Ryan hadn’t worked on it? How long could I go without a reliable vehicle to make my deliveries?
“Can I help you?” a voice came from behind me.
I wrapped my arms around myself before I turned. “This is my van. I was hoping someone could tell me whether she’s been fixed or not.”
As the man raised a brow, I noted his name tag, which readRyan. “Jake normally calls before he handles any repairs to get the owner’s approval.”
My shoulders lowered. “He hasn’t called.”
Ryan nodded. “He probably hasn’t had a chance to look at it. We’ve been busy.”
His words felt a lot like a dismissal.
“I don’t think you understand.” I gestured at Berta. “This is my only means of transportation, and I run a flower business. I need to transport my flowers, or I can’t work.”
I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice and Gia’s concern out of my head, but I couldn’t. I needed Berta, or my dream wouldn’t get off the ground. I felt panic in the depths of my soul.
Ryan tipped his head to the side and said carefully, “I’m not sure Jake realized it was a rush job.”
I hurried to keep up with him as he strode toward the open bay, worried what a rush job would cost. “I wouldn’t say it’s a rush job. It’s just important she be fixed quickly.”
When he stopped in front of booted feet protruding from under a white Mustang, I straightened, drawing up to my full five-foot-two height.
Ryan cleared his throat, and the person under the car pushed out from under it.
“What’s up?” Jake asked gruffly as he stood. His greasy hands held a metal tool of some sort.
“This woman”—Ryan threw a thumb in my direction—“wanted to check on the van. You know, the blue one?”
From his tone, I suspected they’d discussed my van at length. I wondered if Jake had complained about me and my stubborn refusal to let him junk her.
