“You drive with Tommy,” Jason says. “Morgan, Vivie, and I will take the other car.”
“I just need to get ready,” I tell them. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I hurry into the back room and put on my knee-length rain boots; I pair them with a matching long yellow raincoat and hat. Then I put on a pair of yellow dishwashing gloves. Yes, I look odd, but I’m going to need it for what’s to come.
When I join the Culpeppers up front, Thomas takes one look at me and starts to laugh. “You look like that girl on the salt box.” Then he asks, “Should we have dressed differently?”
“You’re fine,” I tell him. It’s clear he’s wondering what’s going on, but he doesn’t ask.
We all walk outside as soon as the car arrives. It’s the same big black Cadillac that Vivie was sitting in yesterday when I went to Thomas’s house.
It pulls up to the curb and Mr. Picknell gets out. I know him because his son hires me to take pictures of his grandchildren. I greet him, “Mr. Picknell, I didn’t know you worked for a car service.”
He waves at me, “Call me Pickles, Finley. And I just do this part time. I also work as a drivers’ ed teacher.”
“Seriously?” I ask. “I’m going to sign up for driving lessons as soon as I get my permit. Maybe you can be my teacher.” And if he is, surely I shouldn’t call him Pickles. That seems disrespectful.
“I’d love to teach you to drive!” he assures me. Then he turns to Thomas’s family and greets them.
“Pickles!” Morgan announces. “How nice to see you again.” The use of Mr. Picknell’s nickname sounds funny coming from a lady like Morgan. But it just goes to show you that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Thomas’s mom might look like a society woman, but she’s really very down to earth.
As Mr. Picknell opens the back door and the front passenger door for the Culpeppers, I tell him, “You know where you’re going, right?” He nods his head. So, I say, “We’ll be right behind you.”
Getting into the Mustang, Thomas asks, “Wherearewe going?”
“To the parking lot by the lake where you and I went the night you took me for a drive.”
“We’re having our second date in a parking lot?” he wants to know.
“No,” I tell him. “That’s where we’re parking. Now no more questions until we get there.”
Thomas does a pretty good job of driving us. He still slows down about a block before he gets to a stop sign, but hey, at least he has his license.
The rest of our party is already waiting for us when we get there.
After we join them, Mr. Picknell asks, “What time should I be back?”
“How about seven?” I suggest.
“See you then.” He waves as he pulls out.
Morgan says, “I don’t mean to be a complainer, dear, but it’s very cold out here.”
“We’ll have you warm in no time,” I tell them. Then I start walking toward the beach.
Thomas catches up with me. “You don’t like the sand.”
“I don’t, which is why I’m dressed like this.” I raise my rubber-gloved covered hands into the air.
“I don’t understand?”
I stop walking and turn to face him. Then I explain, “You said that you love the beach, and I wanted to do something you would enjoy. Now, do you want to stand here or do you want to see what I have planned?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
THOMAS
I can’t believe Finley went to such lengths for our date tonight. Seriously, she hates the sand and yet she’s planned a whole evening on the beach because she knows how much I like it. She’s even wearing the craziest outfit I’ve ever seen just so she can get through it.
