Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [88]
“This address?” She was genuinely surprised. “No. What crazy person told you that?”
“As a matter of fact, my crazy Aunt…”
“Your Aunt Helena told you there was a Duesenberg repair place here? At this address?”
“Wrote it down and everything.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She really wanted me to come here.”
For a moment, Ms. Nuckeby seemed touched. Deeply. “Why?” she asked.
“Only one reason I can think of.”
She fixed me with a stare. I could feel her thaw spreading, and I sensed, for a moment, that we were back in the closet. But only for a moment.
“Well, I can’t think of any,” Ms. Nuckeby said, recovering quickly and closing that emotional door in my emotional face with an emotional slam. “This is not now—nor has it ever been—a Duesenberg repair shop. We’ve been here since the town began. Nothing but food.” She stopped and looked at a menu, then grinned again. Clearly, she couldn’t deny her own nature. “We do sell sauerkraut though.”
“That’s not a food?”
“Not in my opinion.”
“Is it a foreign car?”
“No. It’s rotten cabbage. But it is German. We put it on hot dogs.”
“But not on Duesenbergs.”
She giggled, then caught herself. She shook her head. The closet door beckoned, and it was becoming harder for her to fight coming back inside with me. Apparently I did have charm.
“No,” she said. “We don’t put it on Duesenbergs. A guy asked for it ‘to go’, once though. Maybe he put it on a Duesenberg.”
This time I laughed. I felt lighter and happier than I’d felt in a very long time. I could have continued this pointless conversation for hours. But Sheriff Mindie of the double D ranch cleared her throat and reminded me that my life could not be fun. Ever.
“Are you two planning on getting to any kind of a point, anytime soon?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said, as Ms. Nuckeby giggled and tried to stifle it. Mindie glared at me. “Why are you talking to this woman?” “Because…”
“How about car rental places?” Mindie cut me off, asking Ms. Nuckeby directly. “Anything like that around here?”
“No rental cars anywhere in town,” said Ms. Nuckeby, not looking at Mindie, her grin slowly expanding. “But the pedal cars are cheap.”
Mindie sniffed. Ms. Waboombas snorted a laugh. Or possibly a burp. Ms. Nuckeby continued smiling and shuffling menus.
“Well,” I said, turning to the others. “It seems we’re stuck here until Aunt Helena arrives.”
There were moans and groans from everyone except Ms. Waboombas. Ms. Nuckeby looked intrigued, so I wasn’t at all sorry for that particular news.
“I’m sorry,” I said to them. “I don’t see that we have any options.”
Everyone looked at one another, hoping someone had an answer to this horrifying dilemma. Thankfully, no one did.
“And if Helena doesn’t come for some reason?” Mindie asked, seeming genuinely frightened.
“There’s a nice hotel just down the street,” Ms. Nuckeby offered. “You could even stay for the Festival.” She glanced up at me—was that hope I saw in her expression?
Mindie sneered at her and sniffed derisively, then turned to the pastor to ask him if he knew anyone at the chapel who could come get us; as they discussed the idea, Ms. Nuckeby leaned closer to me and spoke softly—so Mindie couldn’t hear.
“Your aunt is coming?” Her low tones forced me to get very close to her. Close enough to smell her alluring scent, which excited me and made me, once again, glad I was wearing pants.
“Part of her plan,” I said, turning away from the others and lowering my own voice.
“What plan?”
“To bring us together.”
Her breathing deepened. We were back in the closet, door closed, lights dimming.
“Because she knows you’re not a fan of…” She paused, stifling a laugh, “…overabundant milk?”
“Nor the containers it comes in,” I said.
“By ‘bring us together’ you mean you and me, right? Getting you and me together? As opposed to you and your aunt? Or you and ‘Mindie’.” She said ‘Mindie’ like the word was something hairy trying to crawl up her nose.
“You and me. Yes. Not Mindie. Not anyone else. That’s what I meant.”
A smile slowly spread across her entire face. The look