Chapter 21
ZONA HOVERED OVER THE CAR ENGINE next to Martin as he examined spark plugs and wires. Greasy car guts had never interested her. With her success as a rideshare driver on the line, that had changed.
“It started a little rough the other day,” she shared. She shouldn’t have ignored that. “Then last night it didn’t want to start at all. What do you think is wrong?” she prompted.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I’m no expert on newer cars.”
Hers hardly qualified as new.
“But I’d say you need a new air filter.”
Relief spread over her. “That’s all?”
“I can’t be sure. You probably should take it to the dealership.”
She groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted to spend money on was car repairs, especially if the fix was an easy one Martin could manage.
“But you could change the air filter, right?”
“Sure,” he said.
“This afternoon?”
“I don’t have any big plans.”
“Oh, Martin, it would be great if you could.”
He smiled at her. “I’m happy to help.”
She smiled back. “You always are. You’re such a great neighbor,” she said, and his smile widened. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
His smile lost weight. “Oh, you’d get along fine.”
Zona knew he hadn’t meant her. “I don’t think my mom realizes how lucky she is to have you as a friend.”
Zona wished he could have more than just friendship with her mother. He certainly deserved to be happy.
But then people didn’t always get what they deserved, she thought, bitterness trying to creep in.
She pushed it away. You’ve got a place to stay, she reminded herself as she went in the house to borrow her mother’s car fob.
You’re employed and healthy, your mom is recovering just fine from her break, and your daughter is .
. . Well, she was working, and she was safe.
But she sure wasn’t doing well emotionally.
If only Zona could find a way to help Bree get past the past. But first she had to be able to. The path still wasn’t clear to her. Probably because her current situation was continually reminding her of what she’d been through.
Who said what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?
Some sick masochist who didn’t get the lure of being an emotional cream puff.
She’d have liked nothing better than to spend her Saturday night flopped on the couch with her mother, watching movies, or snuggling under the covers with a good novel (not a romance!).
Instead, she would be in her car, pretending that she liked driving around nosy strangers. Or barfy daughters.
Oh, well. Cream puffs got eaten. Bring on the emotional weightlifting.
“It sounds like an easy fix,” Louise said when Zona shared Martin’s diagnosis.
“I hope so,” said Zona. “Do you mind missing out on garage sales this morning?”
“I have enough stuff. Feel free to stop at a couple on your way to the car parts store though, and if you find any pink Depression glass, snag it for me.”
“Will do,” Zona promised.
She didn’t find any Depression glass, but she did score a vintage leather Betsey Johnson purse.
A quick search on her phone showed her a similar one that had sold for fifty dollars and the garage sale seller only wanted twenty.
She also found a Pokémon elite trainer box of cards.
This turned out to be an even better deal.
Ten dollars and it looked like she’d be able to sell it for fifty. Score!
It was a good thing she had scored, because once she got to the auto parts store, she experienced sticker shock. That much for a stupid air filter for her car? Holy moly! She left the store wearing a frown.
But what she saw when she pulled back into her mom’s driveway instantly dissolved it. Bree was half in, half out of her car. A bucket of sudsy water sat on the parking strip.
She got out and walked over. “What’s this?”
Bree kept scouring away at carpet on the floor. “I owe you.”
Not as much as I owe you, Zona thought. “Thanks.”
Bree straightened, opened the front passenger door, and pulled out a small gift bag, then handed it over. “Happy birthday early.”
Zona’s birthday wasn’t until November. “You are getting an early start,” she joked. She looked inside and found a collection of tree-shaped air fresheners nestled inside the colored tissue paper. “Just what I always wanted,” she cracked.
“Just what you need,” Bree said. She dropped her scrub brush in the bucket and took off the rubber gloves she’d been wearing. “It’s not your fault Gary messed you over and I shouldn’t be blaming you.”
The words were such balm to her wounded spirit, Zona wanted to cry. She kept the tears at bay, slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, and hugged her. “Thanks. And thanks for this.”
“I owed you after puking everywhere.”
“I didn’t mean about that,” Zona said.
Her daughter nodded, didn’t look her in the eye. “I know,” she said, and bent to pick up the bucket.
They started toward the front walk just as Alec James was coming down his. Zona was careful not to look his way. They hadn’t indulged in any neighborly chats since their awkward conversation on the front porch.
She could hardly blame him. He’d probably had more than enough of her mother and her. Which was for the best.
Under everything she still felt a sense of unease, and every time they started to patch up their neighborly relations, something went awry and tore at the patch. There was so much they didn’t know about the man. Other than the fact that he hadn’t buried someone’s bones in his yard.
Who was that woman who’d been with him? Why had she left? Alec James was a man who walked in shadow. And Zona was determined to stay on the sunny side of the street.
But darn, that smile of his, when he chose to show it, drew her, even though he made her feel edgy. He was like some kind of emotional vampire, opening his cape and beckoning her to come on over and snuggle up next to him. It was hard to ignore the pull of that power.
She shook off the vision of herself pressed against him with him going for her neck. There was nothing sexy about a man sucking you dry. She’d been there, done that.
Bree picked up on her averted gaze. “Good idea, Mom. Don’t even look.”
“Good advice,” said Zona.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy,” Bree added. “It’s just that I don’t want us both to be miserable.”
Her daughter’s reference to the future was so inaccurate.
Bree was still miserable. Her well-laid plans had been knocked over like so many building blocks and her trust had been flattened.
Bree was still on Zona’s health insurance.
Maybe she should broach the idea of therapy again.
Bree had shot her down when she’d mentioned it a year earlier.
Considering their latest tense interaction, the time probably wasn’t right.
Still, she couldn’t resist. “You know, if you need to talk to a professional,” she began.
Bree cut her off. “I’m okay.” She opened the door, striding quickly inside. End of conversation.
Zona sighed inwardly and followed her in. Her daughter shouldn’t have to feel the way she did. She shouldn’t have had to postpone starting her nursing program. And Zona shouldn’t have had to move in with her mother. Why was it that life never went the way you planned?
Oh, well. What could you do but make new plans? Like start collecting side hustles.
She handed over the air filter to Martin, who took it and went out to make her car all better. “I hope that’s all it needs,” she said to her mother.
“I’m sure it is. Martin knows what he’s doing,” Louise said confidently. She turned to Bree. “How’s the car smelling?”
Bree’s cheeks turned a little rosy. The question was an unpleasant reminder of why she’d been cleaning the car in the first place.
“Better,” she said.
“Good,” Louise approved. She smiled at her granddaughter. “You’re a good kiddo.”
Bree gave a snort. “Sometimes.”
“And we love you all the time,” said Louise, which birthed a baby smile on Bree’s face.
She nodded and went to the kitchen to dump the water from her pail.
“She is a good kid,” Louise said to Zona.
Zona nodded. “Good but unhappy.”
“She’ll get over it. She’s young.”
Just because you were young it didn’t mean you got over things. Zona still remembered getting tormented in middle school by a mean girl who taunted her over her flat chest.
“Nobody’s gonna want you,” Cindy Mathews had taunted.
Well, she’d gone and proved Cindy wrong. She got boobs and she got married young.
And got cheated on and got desperate and then got messed over again. And now look at her. She’d never admit it to her mother, hated to admit it to herself, but she was almost as cynical and untrusting as her daughter. Maybe she needed therapy.
Or just chocolate. She’d stock up before she started work. It would be good to have an emergency supply in the car.
Both Bree and Martin stayed for lunch and Zona made them a shrimp pasta salad.
“How’s your book coming, Gram?” Bree asked.
Louise’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m taking a break.”
“How come?”
“I’m waiting for the muse to return,” Louise said. “And I’ve been busy.”
“Busy doing what?” Bree persisted.
Reenacting old Hitchcock movies, thought Zona, but she kept her mouth shut.
So did Martin.
“I’ve had a lot of company,” said Louise. “I’ll get back to it when inspiration strikes again.”
If you asked Zona, inspiration had already struck enough.
AN HOUR BEFORE Zona left for her side hustle, Louise, who was at the dining room table working a puzzle, announced, “She’s back.”
Zona set a glass of iced tea in front of her. “Who’s back?”
“The woman next door.”
“We are done spying on the neighbor,” Zona said, and peered out the window.
Sure enough. The woman was back, out of her car and walking to the front door.
But maybe not to stay. “She doesn’t appear to have any luggage with her,” said Zona.
“Well, I don’t think she had any clothes left behind,” said Louise. “Not after what I saw. Why would she come back?”
“Svengallow?”
“Who?”
“That man from the old movies you told me about.”