5. Gabe
CHAPTER 5
GABE
A sane person would have dropped the girl off in town and gone home without worrying about her for another single second. That’s what I should have done. It’s what I was planning to do.
But then I drove past my shop, and I wondered for a second how I would feel if someone did that to my daughter. Not that I have one. Not that I’ll ever have one. Not that Carly’s anywhere near young enough to be a daughter to me. But in the imaginary world where I did have a daughter and found out that some guy could have helped her out and chose not to, I would be furious.
Before I can think any harder about it, I’m pulling into the shop and parking in my usual spot. The lights are on, and as I turn off my engine, the sound of hard metal filters out into the cold night.
Phoebe’s in the shop working tonight. She’s a bright young thing from out of town, and I’ll confess when she first came to apply for the job, I laughed in her face. She’s five foot two and can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, but she knows her stuff. As soon as she proved that to me, I didn’t need to ask any more questions.
“Hey, boss,” she says in her drawling Boston accent as I walk in. “Wasn’t expecting you in tonight.”
I shrug. “An emergency came up.”
“Damn. Want me to handle it?”
I shake my head. “You’re still working on Mr. Reynolds’ transmission, right?”
Phoebe nods, grinning. Sometimes I find her sickeningly chipper, but I can’t say that her good attitude doesn’t rub off on me a little. Sometimes. “Yup, and it’s coming along just fine. If you want to head home, I’m happy to take a break from it to head on out in this.”
“No,” I say more firmly. She doesn’t even blink at my gruffness. At first, I think it used to offend her, but now that she’s used to me, she doesn’t react to my sour moods. “I’ll be back soon. Oh, and where’s the shovel?”
Twenty minutes later, I’m back out in the snow, the lights of the tow truck casting dark shadows under everything. Now that I can see Carly’s car properly, I can see exactly how screwed she is. She must have been speeding. That’s the only explanation for this, as far as I can see. Sure, the pothole was a big one. But she must have hit it with some force to do that much damage.
No matter how much she might want to, there is no way she’s driving anywhere tonight. Even if there is something I can do, I’m not doing it until the morning, so she’s going to have to stay in this town whether she wants to or not.
First things first, I have to get this thing somewhere, or I won’t be able to do anything about it no matter what.
It hasn’t stopped snowing since we got back to town, so even if she hadn’t been snowed in before, she definitely would be now. I dig out some small trenches in front of her wheels, jump back in the tow truck and line up with the front bumper.
I jump out again, hook her car up and pray that I’m not going to have to do more digging. That’s the worst part about winter, the digging. Doesn’t matter that I’ve lived here my whole life. I always have and always will hate snow.
I slap the button to wind the chain in, and it creaks as the car resists. I hold my break for a second, then after a long pause, the car groans and lets itself be pulled up onto the flatbed.
It’s a tiny old thing, probably with more miles on it than it should have. As soon as it’s all the way on, I strap it down, make sure it’s secure, and jump back into the cab, shivering. The whole way back to the shop, I blast the heat at my face and turn the radio up. The last thing I want right now is to dwell on my thoughts.
When I get back to the shop, I’m half expecting Phoebe to have gone home. But she hasn’t. She’s still there on the floor underneath the car, whistling away as she works.
I found the whistling incredibly irritating when she started, but I’m used to it now. I hadn’t really wanted company in the shop in the first place. But despite Mullen Falls being a small town, people always need a mechanic, and the workload had been getting too much for me to handle by myself.
I’m not above admitting that I need help sometimes.
So maybe it took a minor workplace injury to persuade me that help isn’t a weakness. So what?
Phoebe hears me come in and slides out from underneath Mr. Reynolds’ car. “Need a hand unloading that, boss?”
I give her a long stare. No matter how many times I’ve asked her not to call me boss, she never listens. It’s like she thinks it’s cute or funny or something, but I just find it irritating. And I know the more it irritates me, the more she’ll do it.
“All right, fine,” I say roughly.
She winks at me, then heads out towards the tow truck, and I shake my head. She’s basically half my age, and she doesn’t do anything except make me feel old all the time.
She’s annoying and smart and brash, with a mouth that could get her into trouble one day.
That, and she is a huge help. I don’t think I could do without her anymore, but that’s not the point. The point is she teases and bickers with me like she might as well be my daughter. She’s probably the closest thing I’ll ever have. People made comments when she first started with me, but the truth is that I couldn’t see her as anything but family, and she has no eyes for anyone like me.
For sure, if anyone ever tried to lay a hand on her, I would kill them. Everyone knows that to be a stone-cold fact.
She helps me wheel Carly’s car into the shop. I try again to start it. Still nothing.
“Shit,” says Phoebe, folding her arms.
“Yup.” I pop the hood and go straight for the battery. As expected, it’s a complete mess in there. God alone knows when the last time she had any real maintenance done on it. Even glancing at it now, there are a dozen parts that look unhappy enough that they could be replaced and another dozen that, at minimum, need a good cleaning.
The biggest concern to me, though, is that front wheel. The tire is completely busted, and the metal hub is dented and battered. The rest of the parts I might want to replace aren’t vital. She can’t go anywhere without wheels, though.
Phoebe paces around the car and lets out a long whistle. “This thing’s old,” she says, drawing out the “o.”
“Yup,” I say.
“Whose car is this, anyway? They’d be better off buying a new one at this point than trying to fix all of this. It’s going to cost them a fortune just to replace that wheel assembly, let alone all the other things that are wrong with it.”
“This client’s going to want it fixed,” I say simply, imagining Carly’s face of shock when I tell her just how busted up her vehicle is.
“At a minimum, we’re going to need to replace the rim and the tire,” says Phoebe. She jumps up and peers into the engine. “But I wager that it’s going to need a new battery, plus new fittings. I’ll bet you that’s what’s wrong with it, the starter. I’ll bet you it got so beat up that something got all bent right out of shape, and it’s not getting any power.”
I don’t say anything, silently agreeing with her assessment.
“You sure you can’t persuade this person to just buy a new car?”
“No. I can just tell she’s going to be difficult. She’s going to want this car repaired.”
Phoebe rolls her eyes. “Great, one of those types, huh? What’s there even to love about this? It’s an old pile of junk.”
I shrug. “Beats me. But you know how people are with their cars.”
Phoebe laughs heartily. “People are the worst. So where do you want to start, boss? We’re going to have to order the parts for that wheel. I don’t think we have anything in the back.”
“I can do that,” I say. “Isn’t your shift over?”
“Now you just want to get me gone.” She grins.
I press my lips into a firm line, giving her an I’m not impressed kind of look. She grins again, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Okay, okay, I know where I’m not wanted,” she says, throwing up her hands. “Just write down anything you want me to order from the store, and I’ll call tomorrow, okay?”
Not waiting for an answer, she waves goodbye and almost skips away. I don’t know where she finds the energy, but I will do what she asks and write a list. She knows I hate talking on the phone for longer than I have to, and the people at the parts place are always so chatty. I don’t know what they have to be cheerful about.
I hear Phoebe’s car start, and she drives away. When the night falls quiet again, I head to the office and sit down, pulling out a piece of paper to start writing a list. Every item makes me angrier. Carly doesn’t belong in a town like this, and now she’s trapped here for the foreseeable future.
For the people here… she’s too highly strung. She’s too demanding. She’s too beautiful.
That thought comes out of nowhere, and I kick myself for it.
I mean, it’s true. She is pretty, with that blond hair and bleached smile. And I’m sure when she’s not panicking and tired, she has a reasonable enough personality, but that doesn’t mean I want to speak to her ever again. I have no patience for people like her who think they know everything and are above people like me.
No. The sooner she’s gone from this town, the better. The sooner I never have to think about her again, the happier I’ll be.
But before that can happen, I guess I’m going to have to tell her that she’s not going anywhere for at least a few days. By now, she’ll have decided to believe me about the lack of transportation in this town. If she has any sense, she’ll have slunk off to the bar. It’s the only place in town to go.
I haven’t been in months or probably years, but if you want to hang out in Mullen Falls, you head to the Buffalo Inn. It’s where anyone who’s anyone or no one at all spends a night.
And the sooner I tell Carly, the sooner I can deal with getting rid of her. I don’t want her in this town or my life, so I’m going to have to face her again to tell her the news. The car I’ll deal with later.
No matter how much I don’t want to, it looks like I’m going to the inn.