“I have a flat tire, remember?” Kate said sweetly. After the “coincidence” of
running into Peter, she had some suspicions about her flat.
Carol was shaking her head. “Oh dear. I had planned to get groceries tonight.
Forgot to yesterday, you know.”
“I see.” Something evil was churning in that gray head of hers.
“Yes, I need milk and bread and, um, sweet gherkins and…groceries.”
Kate nodded. “Let me guess. You'll be gone all night?”
She smiled sweetly. “I forgot eggs. And cauliflower. I'd better make a list.”
Kate put the back of her hand on her forehead and feigned a swoon. “Oh, whatever am I to do? I have a flat tire and Daddy never taught me how to fix one. Who can save me from these dire straits?”
Carol studied her fingernails, then cleared her throat. “Maybe Peter could fix
your flat tire.”
And there it was. “Do you ever give up?” she asked her friend.
“I just thought since he's handy with cars and he's right next door, and if he
is just a friend, as you say, what harm can it do?”
What harm? Where do I start?
Kate looked to the ceiling. But what else was she supposed to do? She needed to get a lay of the land before her meeting tomorrow, but she didn't want
to drive all over the county on a spare. And she sure didn't have the equipment to repair a flat. And it might save her an early morning service call at a garage.
“Well, he's probably busy. You know, getting gherkins and groceries and such.”
“Oh, I know for a fact he's not busy,” Carol said eagerly.
“How's that?”
Carol pointed out the kitchen window. “He's out there washing his car.”
Kate looked through the lace curtains. Sure enough, there was Peter, wearing
running shorts and a white t-shirt, wrestling a red hose around to the side of a glistening vintage cherry-red Mustang convertible parked in his back driveway.
Oh, geez.
He grabbed a sponge from the bucket and bent over to wash the wheels.
“Buns,” said Carol.
Kate whirled. “Excuse me?”
“I need to get buns, too. And bananas.”
Kate's eyes narrowed.
Carol stood, then moved to the counter. “So, I'm sure Peter would be happy
to help you with your tire. He's very handy.” She began writing out her grocery
list, humming slightly.
Kate bit her lip. Did she want to ask him? The forced meetup at the diner hadn't been particularly comfortable. But that was probably because it was out in
public where everyone could see them. And she knew all too well how gossip flew in small towns.
She stared out the window where Peter was now wiping down the car. It was
nice. The car. Was nice.
“Katie? Kate?”
Kate turned to Carol, eyebrows arched. “Hmm?”
“How do you spell 'rutabaga'?”
“Try r-something-something-b-a-g-a.”
