Chapter 26
Garrett
“It’s gonna be about $1,200 for a complete rebuild.”
“But-but—that’s way too high!” Mrs. Robinson says in a panicked tone. “There’s no way I can afford that.”
“Well, we might be able to salvage one from the yard. That will set ya back about a thousand.”
“Oh, dear…” Mrs. Robinson says, looking around for a seat.
“Ma’am, let me get you a chair.”
Mrs. Robinson, the elderly widow of the late fire chief, takes a seat, then places her shaky hands on the rounded clutch of her cane.
“I guess I’m gonna have no other choice but to sell it. Bob always did love that car. Old as dirt, never did quit. At least, not in his lifetime.”
“Do you have kids that can help pitch in?”
She snickers. “My daughter’s a school teacher and stretched thin enough. My son, well, he makes ends meet. Barely.”
I exhale my frustration. Bob Robinson was a good man in life, his legacy carrying on into his death. He would run into any fire, no matter how dire, if he knew a person was trapped inside. He retired a good five years before I started volunteering at the firehouse, but he’d come by once or twice a week to help clean the place until the day he died.
“Look, I’ll donate my time and parts to fix your transmission.”
Relief washes over Mrs. Robinson’s face, and I know I’ve done the right thing. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do for Bob Robinson’s wife. Do you need a ride back home?”
“No, I’ll walk on down to The Creamery for a bite. My daughter Beth works there in the summer.”
“Well, you take care.”
When Mrs. Robinson is just out of earshot, a voice says, “That was mighty big of you.”
I look over to see Hank Carter standing off to the side, arms crossed over his chest.
“Didn’t see you come in.”
“I parked around back. Didn’t want to bother you when you were with a customer.”
“There a reason why you’re here?”
“Well, for one, ya left yer stuff in my guest house.”
I turn away, busying myself. “It’s yours.”
“You think I want yer dirty socks?”
Part of me wants to drop to my knees and beg for Hank’s forgiveness, but instead, I turn my back to him so he can’t see my shame.
“I’m pretty sure Jake will use just about anything that comes out of the dryer.”
“I packed them up, and they’re sittin’ in the back of my truck.”
“Thanks,” I choke out.
“You look a little worse for the wear,” he says. “Might wanna think about heading back to the house.”
