“So I’ve heard.” Ryder knocked on the director’s door. “You wanted to see me?”
Travis looked up, the skin under his chin jiggling, and tossed a piece of paper to the other side of his desk. “What’s the meaning of this?”
She wasn’t going to make it. She’d die right here on First Avenue, mere blocks from Ella’s Diner.
Water…water…
Why didn’t she call for help? If Granny knew she got out of her car and ran down the side of River Road to First Avenue and the center of town, she’d give her a piece of her mind. And then some.
You’ll wear yourself out! she’d say, worried. Yet it’d been two years since?—
A siren blip startled Elizabeth off the sidewalk. When she turned around, a Hearts Bend police car eased along the curb.
“Hey, Beth.” The officer leaned over the passenger seat to peer up at her. “That your car on River Road?”
“Yes, and what’s the big idea of scaring me half to death?” The police officer, her cousin Jeff Simmons, had been one of her best friends as a kid during her summers-in-the-South days.
Jeff pushed open the door. “Get in. I’ll drop you at Ella’s.”
“And have people think you arrested me? I don’t need that rumor landing in the Wharton admin office.”
“No one will think I’ve arrested you. And it was people who called me to say your car was on the side of the road.”
“Who’s calling you?”
“People who know you’re the Dorsey who drives a classic red VW Bug.”
“Fine.” Elizabeth tossed in her backpack and dropped into the passenger seat. “I’m not sure I like people knowing my business.”
In the world of social media, all it took was a person tagging her on some post about riding in a cop car and Wharton would find out. However, she was tired. And late. Tina’s grandkids meant the world to her, and Elizabeth didn’t want her to miss the party.
Jeff headed east toward the center of downtown Hearts Bend, past Angelo’s Pizza, Cooper’s Grocery, Gardenia Park, and the historic Wedding Shop. “What’s your plan for the flat?”
“Fix it. But Jeff, you’re not obligated.”
Growing up in Boston, Elizabeth was the Dorsey cousin from the city. Hearts Bend Dorseys were the country cousins. And country cousins pitched in to help, fix, and counsel.
“Okay,” Jeff said in his lighthearted way. “But I do feel obligated to impound it.”
“Jeff Simmons, you’d better not.”
“It’s Officer Simmons to you.”
“Whatever.” Elizabeth glanced over at him, laughing. “I was going to look up a service truck when I got to work. And if you haul off my car, I’ll tell Granny.”
“Ooo, ladies and gents, she pulls out the big guns. But knowing Granny”—Jeff reached for his radio and, with a couple of clicks and code words, ordered her a tow truck—“she’d be on my side. Also, your car will be at Marty’s Garage. You can pick it up after work.”
“At eleven o’clock? He’ll be closed. How will I pay?”
Jeff waved off her question. “Ah, no worry. Marty will find you. Or one of us.”
“You’re not paying for my new tire. What is with this family and?—”
“A little overwhelming, is it?” Jeff turned onto Gardenia Circle, slowly cruising around the park while responding to a radio call. “Having so much family around when you’re used to living in Boston, away from us most of your life.”
“Everywhere I turn, there’s a Dorsey family member, or worse, a Dorsey friend. Some lady walked up to me at Cooper’s last week, asked how I was doing. Was I feeling better? Said her nephew had Epstein–Barr, and it really knocked him for a loop. Never saw the lady before in my life. Never mind all the people who remember me from when I was a teenager, working at Ella’s. It’s like living on a reality show.”
“Welcome to Southern hospitality.”
