“Sable. First-name basis on what I’m assuming is a new customer. Interesting, big brother, very interesting,” Kara says under her breath while handing me Nellie’s bags. She may not have brought anything but a small backpack, but she’s returning with three reusable bags you’d get from a discount home and clothing store. Which means they’re triple the size of a grocery bag, and they’re also fully loaded.
“That’s how she introduced herself.” I shrug my shoulders and take the heavy bags from my sister, laden with the presents she received from everyone. The sad part is, I know for a fact my mom had her keep some at her house, too. Being the first child, first grandchild, and first niece comes with its perks. One of the many being for birthdays and Christmases, we tend to go a little overboard.
“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Kara sends me a look of disbelief. I’ll just let her keep thinking whatever she wants. “Where is she staying, and what time did she drop her car off?”
I’m not falling for her shit. This is how it starts, then it turns into twenty-one questions, where she grills me relentlessly. There’s only one way to shut her up, and that’s to give her a taste of her own medicine.
“When are you moving in?” I should have asked the question yesterday, including offering to help her move in, but apparently, it was my day to be a dick to everyone, Sable included. What I really should have done is kept my head down and my mouth shut. Lesson fucking learned.
“Hopefully next weekend. I still need to order furniture, buy the essentials that Mom didn’t put away for me when she’d pick things up here and there. Plus, I have to get the utilities transferred into my name. So, it probably depends on that. Are you up for helping me move in, or are you going to ice me out?” Fuck, I must have really been in a mood to have Kara put me in my place.
“Nah, you name the date and how much manpower you need, and I’ll supply the rest. No food or beer necessary, either.” Successfully changing the subject is worth being a pack mule for a few hours. Plus, it’s not like she can have that much stuff if she’s ordering the majority of her furnishings.
“That’ll suffice for an apology. Now, I’d stick around and grill you, but I have places to be. And Mom will have all the information in no time, if not by you or by the gossipers, we have a built-in hotline distribution line in our very own back pocket.” Kara shoots a wink at Nellie. My girl gives a little head nod, answering her aunt, and I’m once again reminded that I’m overruled by the women in my life.
“You good?” I ask, noticing the light wince when she bends down to give Nellie a hug. I didn’t see it yesterday, which probably means Kara let Nellie sleep in her bed, getting kicked in the side while she tossed and turned and inherently getting smacked in the face when Nellie flailed around. My girl is a mover in her sleep, which is the reason why, when she crawls into my bed, the minute she falls asleep, I move to the couch. I’ve woken up to a kick in the jaw before with how much she gets around.
“Yeah, overdid it this week.” I hold my hand out for hers, helping her stand up and steady herself.
I don’t respond, choosing not to start an argument, one that would make her feel like a child that needs to be taken care of, when in fact, she’s nearly thirty years old and can do a fuck of a lot on her own.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to. You can literally watch me leave from here.”
“Old habits are hard to break.” I shrug my shoulders, used to taking care of her even more so since the accident, but she’s right.
“For you and Dad both.” We hug one another, and I wait until she’s in her car and safely out of the parking lot.
“Can I hang out down here, Daddy?” Nellie asks once Kara is off and down the road. I’ve got Sable’s keys in my hand, and although it’s technically a Sunday, meaning the shop is closed, there isn’t much else to do. Nellie likes to do her arts and crafts on her own without my fat fingers in the mix.
“Sure. You mind if I work on a car for a little while?” It isn’t completely out of the norm for me to work on my day off. I try not to do it, and I also didn’t think Nellie would be home as early as she is. She must have wanted to be home, which is weird since my parents' place may as well be hers, too, she has a whole room and playroom set up there.
“Nope.” I follow her to the table the guys use when we’re taking a break. I clean it up every day, especially with our hands being covered in grease. Nellie plops down in her seat, and I put the bags near her, having no idea what she’ll go after first.
“You need anything before I pull the car on the lift?” She gives me a quick shake of her head, and I do one better. In no time at all, Nellie will ask for a drink or a snack, and since I keep a fridge down here, it takes the least amount of effort to grab her a juice box, dye-free, made from real fruit, and a similar kind of snack. If I’d known she’d be home this early, I’d have brought down her favorite concoction: strawberries and kiwis drizzled with a light layer of honey and granola on the side.
“Thank you.” She beams at me with a smile. I bend down to kiss the crown of her head and go about my task. I take Sable’s keys out of my pocket and swirl them around my finger, noticing the keychain for the first time. A metal goose, white in color, orange on the bill, and in script it says, Silly Goose on the Loose.
“What a goof.” I press the button, the car unlocks, and I open the door. The seat is so damn close to the steering wheel that my knees would hit the dash, that’s if I could even get in the thing inthe first place. I’m not taking a chance. I press the lever until the seat is all the way back, fold myself inside, and put the keys in the ignition. I watch the dash as I turn the car on, looking at the gauges before reversing it out of the spot. My daughter is inside the shop, so I’m on high fucking alert.
I don’t breathe a sigh of relief until I’m parked in the garage bay, the car is safely turned off, and Nellie is still where I left her.
“You good, Nellie girl?” I ask once I’m out of the vehicle and walking around to place the lift pads beneath the frame.
“Yep. What’s wrong with it?” she asks.
“It’s overheating. What do you think it could be?” Nellie’s been around the shop ever since I brought her home from the hospital. This year, though, she’s taken to asking more questions. Doing the smaller stuff like loosening bolts to drain the oil no longer suffices her curiosity.
“The gasket thing or the front thing that starts with an R?”
“Radiator. That’d be my guess, too. I’ll do a pressure test on it and look over the rest. Just gotta do something real quick.”
“Can I help?” She starts to put the marker down she was working with, waiting for my response.
“Of course. I’m going to let Sable know what we’re doing, and then we’ll get started.” I pull my phone out, then look from Nellie to my phone.
“I need my coveralls.” Another addition in the shop is her having gear of her own, hat included to keep the nastiness out of her hair.
