“I’m going to be honest. I don’t know if that will be possible.”
“She’s a sweet old woman who doesn’t know what it means.”
“She’s my favorite.”
Duke’s grandparents watched as we trudged toward the truck. They watched Duke open my door, Bart shouting his approval at Duke’s good manners.
“I must have taught that boy well.”
“Grandma taught me that,” Duke teased, slamming my door shut and making his way around to the other side.
They watched calmly as Duke climbed in on the driver's side, setting the plastic bag of his wet clothes on the seat between us. They watched as Duke tried to start the truck.
They watched as he tried to start the truck again.
They watched as he tried to start the truck one more time, confusion etched on his face.
They watched as Duke yanked open the door and popped open the hood, jiggling some things around before hopping inside and trying again.
And again.
“Looks like yer truck’s not starting,” Bart commented, taking a bite out of his ice cream bar.
Duke took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the truck, an exasperated look growing on his face. I followed him out.
“Hey, Grandpa, do you know of any mechanics who could come out and look at it tonight?”
Bart checked his watch and made a face. “Oh, it’s after six now. Nobody in Malad is working that late. I’ve got a friend I could check with in the morning, and I’m sure he’d be happy to take a look.”
He frowned, running a hand through his hair. “I should really get Nora home tonight, if possible. So if you know of anybody else I could call—“
“Oh, what’s one night? It’s Sunday tomorrow. You’re not working, are ya?”
“No, but—“
“Stay, then. You and Nora were just saying you wished you could stay longer.” He took another bite and continued rocking.
“I was fixing to make some fried chicken and mashed potatoes tonight. I know it’s your favorite. We’ll just throw another couple of pieces of chicken on the stove.” Birdie rocked as she talked, her voice sounding a bit too casual to feel authentic. “It’s not any big deal. We’ve got the beds all made up for guests.”
Duke turned to me, a hint of humor in his gaze. “We could rent something if you need to be home tonight.”
“Oh, no need to do that,” Bart spoke up. “I’m sure my friend would be happy to come look at it. Tomorrow,” he added decidedly.
“Right.” He nodded at Bart before looking at me, lowering his voice. “Or I could tackle my grandpa and search all his pockets to find whatever wire he stole from my truck to make it stop working.”
By this time, a grin had spread across my face. “They love you so much.”
“Would you be okay staying the night? I’m not sure we have another option since my truck is mysteriously not working,” he raised his voice a little louder for the hard-of-hearing couple casually rocking in their chairs.
“Happens all the time,” came the commentary from the porch. “That’s an old truck.”
A small chuckle from Duke. “What do you say?”
I couldn’t hide the thrill of pleasure that shot through me at the thought of not leaving. Of having Duke all to myself for one more day. Of spending time with this unique and eclectic couple with fake cats and plastic couch covers who loved their grandson so much they’d personally break down his truck to keep him around another day. I didn’t even try to hide my excitement.
“Only if we can play cards after dinner.”
* * *
