Protector - Laurel Dewey [114]
Kathy didn’t understand Jane’s response but she still erupted into a big, phony laugh. “That’s a funny! Oh, say, I put together a little information packet for you.” Kathy handed Jane a small envelope. “This’ll give you the skinny on everything you need to know about our fruit festivals and community events as well as addresses and phone numbers for doctors and dentists and all that good stuff! There’s also some ‘Howdy!’ coupons in the front from the merchants in town. When you’re ready to hook up your telephone, just call this number—”
“We’re not going to have a phone,” Jane interrupted.
Kathy was caught off guard. “No phone? Well, that’s . . . different.”
Jane thought fast. “I have a cell phone with a great calling plan.” It was a complete lie; Jane had a pager strapped to her waist and nothing else.
“Wow,” Kathy searched for the proper response. “That’s . . . so 21st century! Anyway, this little booklet has oodles of information. In the back, there’s a section on our school system and the deadlines for enrollment.” Jane’s gut tightened. School was a good two or three months away. She was tempted to ask Kathy how long the lease on the rental house was prepaid. But she knew if she asked that, it would look strange. “It’s super easy to find your house,” Kathy said with giddy enthusiasm as she directed them to their rental across from the town park. “I don’t mean to gab and rush off, but I’ve got to get over to Apple Cart Hardware. They’re fixing a gash in our trampoline.”
Jane and Emily drove back up Main Street in search of their new house. “That didn’t go well,” Emily said.
“What do you mean?”
“We should have figured out a story about my bandage before we went in. I don’t think she believed you when you said I fell off my bike.”
“Who gives a shit?” Jane lit a cigarette and rolled down the window.
“And the candy! Moms know what kind of candy their kids like!”
“Forget about it!”
“I think we should both make a list. On one side it says what we like and on the other side it says what we don’t like. Then we trade lists and we memorize them.”
“That’s too much work.”
“You can leave out the stuff I already know. Like ‘I don’t know how to cook.’”
“I could cook if I wanted to! I just don’t have any interest in it. God invented frozen food for a reason. And restaurants? And pizza delivery?”
“God also invented kitchens, stoves, frying pans and food to put in them!”
“Emily, this is a battle you are not going to win. You’re not gonna starve! We’ll eat out and you can bring home the leftovers. Then the next day, we can warm up the leftovers and you’ll feel like you’re eating a home cooked meal.”
“You mean a home warmed meal?”
“Don’t push it, kid. And don’t fret about what Kathy thinks. She’s a nosy broad.”
“I think she’s pretty. She has a lot of teeth. Am I going to school here?”
Jane couldn’t believe how fast the subject changed. “No.”
“What happens if school starts and we’re still—”
“Emily, this is just a temporary deal before you go to Wyoming.”
“Okay,” Emily said, slightly uneasy.
Jane spotted the town park on the right side and turned left into the driveway of the rental house. It was a small one-story wooden structure, painted white with violet trim. Two cottonwood trees provided full shade on either side of the central path that led to the front door. A white picket fence surrounded the freshly mowed front lawn.
“It looks nice,” Emily said earnestly.
Jane looked around the area, noting the park across the street. “I wish they hadn’t stuck us on Main Street and across from the park. This is ‘laying low?’ ”
“What’s laying low?”
“Staying under the radar. Blending in.” Jane looked into her rearview mirror. A white Ford-150 truck was parked across the street. The single male occupant was slightly obscured as he sat back in the front seat eating a sandwich and listening to the country radio station. Jane turned around to read the signage on the driver’s door.
“What is it?” Emily asked.
“I’m trying to read what that says,”