“You’re walking down a busy road in the middle of the night,” I said, jumping out of the car and running after them.
“I have only seen six cars including yours in the past two hours,” she informed me.
“Enola!” one of the other girls complained. “I’m tired!”
“We do not get into cars with strangers, Annie. I told you that ten times already.”
“But I’m not a stranger,” I said, trotting to keep up with them. “I know your brother. Shoot, I know all your brothers! I’m a friend of Hunter’s!”
Enola stopped and regarded me critically.
“I can take you to them,” I said, gesturing to the station wagon. “You can’t walk all the way to the Svensson estate. It’s like twenty miles away.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked. “You could be in league with my father.”
I cringed. “Your dad’s actually in jail.”
There were gasps from several of Enola’s younger sisters and cheers from a few others.
“He was almost eaten by an alligator.”
Enola’s brow crinkled. “This far north?”
“Welcome to Harrogate,” I said dryly. “He’s in a zoo now. There’s a naming contest.”
“For Father?” Enola was horrified.
“No, for the alligator. Look,” I said, taking out my phone and flipping to a photo of Hunter and me. “See? This is from the wedding event a week ago.”
The little Svensson sistersoohed andaahed at the pictures.
“It’s so pretty!”
“Look at all the flowers!”
“I suppose we can accept a ride from you,” Enola said, after studying the photos, “but no funny business.”
I herded the girls to the car then realized the station wagon did not have enough seat belts.
“Miss, you have a forest growing in your trunk,” one of the girls said, pointing.
“Look, kid,” I said, “being an adult is hard.”
Enola took a piece of newspaper out of her bag and laid it down over the moldy spot. I put some of the girls in the back seat then helped the rest into the trunk. Enola sat with me up front.
“Are you and Hunter married?” Annie asked from the back seat as I drove ten miles an hour, hands nervously clenched on the wheel.
“No,” I said.
“Are you married to someone else?” she asked.
“No.” I blew out a breath.
“But you’re old!” she and her sisters shrieked.
Good lord.
“Your car smells weird.”
