He swears this car belongs to his son, but he drives it like he owns it, like a professional, like a lover, changing gears as we curve away off the highway and into narrower roads where the trees meet above the pavement and the fields have barns and cows, and horses in blankets nibble at cold grass, their breath all steam.
I haven’t been out of the city for years. The air is fresh, if cold, the trees stark and bare, the fir trees the only exceptions, deep green sentinels.
Drifts of old snow hide in the shadows but there is warmth in the sun.
We slow as the roads narrow and the rush of wind and engine noise drops.
“How long were you in Franklin?”
“Thirty six years,” he says. “Millie was born here. We met in college.”
“What did Millie study?”
“Nursing.”
“Ah, the old love story. Medical romance.”
“Millie was blatant about our courtship. She came to a college in the city to find a doctor to bring back to her hometown, and I complied.”
Was that all? Was Dirk bitter? He made it sound so clinical.
“What’s it like, living in the country?”
“Everyone knows everything about everyone else, for better or worse.”
“You don’t make it sound very appealing.”
He shrugs.
“Why are you asking?” he says. “Are you considering moving to the country?”
“Maybe,” I say. “I’m only renting. My divorce is finalized. The money from the property sale will come through any day. I’ll need to make some decisions.”
I don’t tell him Phoebe has finally agreed to meet me. She might not even turn up. I refuse to build up my hopes, but I know in my heart – I want to do the right thing by her, to give her some of the money from the settlement, half of it, if I can spare that much. I’ll need security – a roof over my head, and if I can keep Lucy’s Lamps shining, I’ll have enough to live on.
Dirk changes down another gear as we drive through an avenue of bare trees and into a pretty town, a few shops on either side – a pet shop, a grocer, a couple of banks, a bar, already open, a gas station and several hotels.Quaint wooden shops line the centre of the town, a hairdresser, some frock shops and a couple of home decoration and gift shops.
“Can we stop for a moment, please, Dirk?”
“Of course.”
“I won’t be long. I’ll duck in and give them some Lucy’s Lamps cards.”
I’m just leaving the shop when Donna messages me with another assignment. That’s fancy talk for another address and task. Usually unpacking. Sometimes packing. This time, the assignment is different. I inhale, check it again, hesitate, then push it out of my mind.
