“Darling, we don’t have a minute. So, we better get to work.” Edie stood and gestured for Marcy to do the same.
“Get to work on what? What are we doing?” Marcy asked.
“Listen to your nana,” Frances said, and patted Marcy’s hand. “She can be a bit of a perfectionist, so don’t take anything personally.”
Edie steered Marcy out of the kitchen. Frances followed and leaned against the kitchen door frame.
“Okay, let’s see your walk. Walk across the room like you’re walking onto a yacht.”
“Huh?”
Edie gestured for her to walk. Marcy walked, all right—like a linebacker.
“Oof,” Frances muttered. “That’s not good.”
“No.” Edie sighed. They had work to do.
Twenty-seven
Frances was slow to rise the next morning. She felt leaden, her body’s mechanics beginning to rust as the cancer ate through her. The steroids were wearing off, she feared, which would necessitate a call to Amani. But there was so much to do! So, she loaded up on her meds and walked outside into a morning that was far too hot for this time of year.
Skinner was waiting for her in his new-to-him truck. When she climbed in, he handed her a paper bag. “Doughnuts,” he said. “Todd says you should start every day with breakfast.”
Frances had heard Todd speak maybe five words in total since they’d arrived and found it interesting that those were the few words he would choose to impart. She helped herself to a cruller.
“He’ll meet us there with the van,” Skinner informed her.
To his credit, Skinner hadn’t asked why she needed a chop shop and he didn’t inquire now. He talked about the weather, his views on global warming (it’s real, man), which was the perfect segue into the time he saw an alien (also real, man). They drove through a neighborhood of low-income housing, past what looked like an abandoned airstrip, a variety of shops clustered inold buildings, and at last turned into an alley. At the end of that alley was a line of garages with a big sign overhead that read ALLEYAUTOREPAIR.
Frances didn’t know what she’d expected, exactly, but she had not envisioned a run-of-the-mill auto body repair shop. She’d imagined it to be more secretive. Hidden behind a façade. Maybe out in the desert away from the city’s Nosey Parkers.
A man walked out to greet them, wiping his hands on a red oil rag as Skinner rolled down the driver side window. The man tossed his long, greasy tail of salt and pepper hair over his shoulder, then braced a tattooed arm on the door as he bent down to peer inside. “This her?” he asked, eyeing Frances curiously.
“This is her,” Frances confirmed, looking him directly in the eye.
With his chin, the man indicated the last bay. “Talk to my buddy Joe. He’ll help with whatever you need.” With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the first bay.
Skinner moved the truck to the last bay. Todd was already deep inside with the van. Skinner gave him a thumbs-up. To Frances, he said, “Check you later, Rose.”
“Okay, then.” Frances got out of the truck and walked to where Todd stood motionless and wordless. Another man in a red ball cap appeared, striding forward with quick, nimble steps. He wasn’t any taller than Frances, and he wasn’t any younger, either. He looked like his life had been harder than hers. “Morning,” he said. “What you got in mind?”
“Hi, umm, Joe? I’m Wilma.” He said nothing, as if names were not important. Frances appreciated that he did not want to engage in small talk. Neither did she. “I need to remove anything that could identify it, hammer out the dents, paint it, and either put a false floor inside that does not look like a floor, or figure out how to put a large storage area under the existing floor. I need about eight inches depth.” For what she assumed would be canvas bags full of cash.
“Got it,” the man said.
“Can you do vinyl wraps?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll need one of those. Hopefully. But in a hurry and at a time yet unspecified.”
Joe glanced at Todd. Todd nodded. “Okay,” Joe said.
“Great!” She turned her attention to Todd. “Did you bring the materials?”
He moved to the back of the van and opened one of the panel doors. He pointed at shopping bags inside.
“Perfect.” Frances smiled warmly at Joe. “Shall we get started?”
