Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“There you go, man. Keep mulling over the things you know and you’ll find a way to track her down.” James could still hear Chris say the words. The man was a hopeless optimist. Nothing. James had found out nothing. It turned out there were a lot of Turners in Kansas City, and although he considered the romantic notion of calling each and every one until that golden voice sounded in his ear, the reality in this world of cold-calling spam-bots was that no one answered their phone if they didn’t recognize the number. He soon gave up on that idea and turned to social media, but the number of Turners in Kansas City was a mere fraction of the Turners in the rest of the world. For that matter, she’d never even mentioned using social media. He was beginning to believe she might actually live under a rock and use homing pigeons to carry messages.
His usual frustrated thoughts ended in the usual way: with him squeezing the screwdriver he was holding so hard his knuckles went white and his blunt fingernails dug into the palm of his hand.
The first month after the tornado had passed in a blur. As much as he hated profiting from the misfortune of others, a lot of people were in need of their services and business was thriving. Best of all, the owner of the laundromat had hired them to rebuild it, and the before and after shots alone were going to be amazing publicity. But working there, spending all day every day in the laundromat, James had been forced to relive his encounter with Laura for weeks. Every shift was a fresh reminder that he still hadn’t found a trace of her. And now that they were also done with the job, it felt like he was running out of time.
He stared around the room without seeing it, oblivious to the new walls, new floor, new roof, only seeing Laura. Laura in her chair, reading. Laura at the window, her frightened face lit by storm light. Laura at the door to the back hall, her arm outstretched, waiting to take him back to the storage closet…
A balled-up wad of tape hit the back of his head and he turned around to see the grinning face of his best friend. Well, maybe not such a good friend.
“Are you done dreaming about your laundromat-lady yet, asshole?” Chris asked with a broad smile. “I’m ready to quit for the day”
Definitely not his best friend. “Damn you—” James began, but his sentence came to a halt as Chris held up his hand.
“Man, you so need to get laid, or do a scene. Preferably both. I’ve asked you if we could wrap up at least four times. I think this job is done. When they open for business next week, maybe your lady will come back?”
James brightened at the thought. “Great idea! Why didn’t I think of that? ”
“Because I’m not only the handsome one, but also the smart one,” Chris teased and then grunted as that wad of tape flew back through the air and connected with his forehead.
James had high hopes that Laura would return for the laundromat’s Grand Re-Opening, especially as it was the first of the businesses closed by the tornado to return, warranting a small article in the paper and a five-minute story on the local news channel, which the owner – a short, fat, mustache of a man – presided over while Mrs. Shepherd and James stood off in the background, unacknowledged until the cameras were gone. Then it was a grumbled, “Good work,” and a hasty retreat before any outstanding bills could be presented.
Mrs. Shepherd left immediately after, which was a surprise.
“You’re not staying?” James asked, watching her collect her coat.
“For what? It’s a laundromat. Here.” She handed him a Grand Opening coupon for one free packet of detergent (does not apply to high-efficiency brands, fabric softener or dryer sheets. Offer not valid on weekends). “In recognition of all your hard work. You can stick around and mope if you want to.” She paused to apply another layer of lipstick, bending to use the bubble window of a brand-new washer for a mirror, then firmly pulled a rather bedraggled felt hat trimmed out with tattered flowers and feathers over her steely hair. “I have a date.”
“You what?” he blurted and had to think fast when she turned to give him a withering stare. “On a weeknight?”
She gave him a look to let him know she wasn’t fooled, but would allow herself to be mollified, then turned away with a shrug. “When you get to be my age, you don’t take tomorrow for granted. And if you’d met my Mr. Dan, you’d understand why I’m not keen to let some other old cougar get her claws on him. He’s a catch, like you. Now I can tell by the way you dress that you haven’t got a mother,” she drawled on as James looked down at his clean work shirt and unripped jeans in confusion, “so take some motherly advice from me and go ask your little lady-friend out. I bet she’d like that.”
If only it were that easy.
As the weeks ran together into another month, Laura had yet to show up at either the laundromat or the Hy-Vee off NW Barry Rd while James was there, and he had to acknowledge that he’d done all he could do. Chris had berated him frequently for being short tempered and closed off. He needed to move forward. He needed to talk to Chris. His friend was right, he needed to take his mind off things. His phone chimed. Speak of the devil, he thought and read the text.
Chris: Tonight at Indigo. Won’t take no for an answer . Stuck-out-tongue-winking- emoji.
James: All right you ass, I’ll be there at eight .
Chris: thumbs-up emoji.