She lifted a finger:hold that thought.
“Hi, I wonder if you can help me,” she said sweetly into the receiver, laying it on thick. “I’m looking for my Uncle Tom. He moved recently and I don’t have his new number. Unfortunately, a close relative died, and I wanted to give him the sad news in person. I think he’s a member of your course. Bright red nose. Balding. Wears a visor.”
Michelle looked my way and rolled her eyes. I smiled in encouragement, loving that she was taking this on. We’d made a plan on the beach, but then the whole Arizona thing happened, and I’d forgotten all about it. But right about now, I really needed a win.
“What’s that? Oh, that describes every middle-aged member at your course? I see,” she said, the saccharine edge slipping from her voice as hope faded. “If it helps, this one drives a rusty pickup that backfires like a cannon.”
Suddenly she shot upright, eyes wide. “Tom Reeves. Yes, that’s him!”
She covered the receiver and mouthed,Got him.
“He’s playing in the tournament?” Michelle scribbled furiously on her notepad. “This weekend?”
I shook my head. No way was this plan actually working.
“No. Don’t tell him I’m coming. I’d love to surprise him.” The employee on the other end made some more noises. “Okay, I’ll be there. You’re a lifesaver.”
She hung up, threw her arms skyward, and danced. “He’s signed up for their golf tournament this weekend.”
“How do you know it’s him for sure?” I asked.
“Because when I mentioned the backfiring, the lady at the pro shop said, ‘Oh, I know exactly who you mean. His truck leaves an oil breadcrumb trail all over our parking lot.’”
I pumped my fist. “That’s our girl.”
On Saturday,Michelle sat shotgun, a map spread over her lap like we’d time-traveled back to the 80s. Her hair was in a messy knot, and her sunglasses had slid down her nose. She looked… happy. Like the girl I’d taken to ride her first roller coaster.
I drummed my fingers on the wheel. “If we pull this off, I’m going to buy you a pack of Red Vines.”
“Twizzlers,” she corrected.
“You know, Michelle, if you really loved me, you’d convert.”
“I will never choose love over Twizzlers.”
We traded amused glances.
“Even if we don’t come home with the truck,” she said, “at least we get a day off from the kids.”
Fair point. The neighbor’s teenage daughter was booked until bedtime. Today it was just Michelle and me… and our tiny, low-stakes crime spree.
She pointed ahead, rubbing her belly. “Exit’s coming up.”
With one hand on the wheel, I slid the other one over hers. “Is he kicking?”
“No,” she said. “Jake only kicks for music he likes. He’s a classical fan.”
“Only because he’s trapped in your stomach. Once he’s out, that’s when I shine. I’ll make a rockstar out of him yet.”
We pulled into my brother Paul’s place in Burbank to ditch Michelle’s car. He’d agreed to drive us to the golf course and drop us off.
Paul looked at Michelle, then at me, shaking his head. “You’re taking your pregnant wife on this grand theft auto field trip. Real nice, Scott.”
“The baby wanted to come,” Michelle said, patting her stomach. “He’s already got a taste for justice.”
“It’s not grand theft auto if it’s my truck,” I said. “It’s more like… aggressive repossession.”
Paul stared at us like he was calculating the exact dollar amount of our bail. “Whatever. But if you get arrested, I’m not your one phone call.”
