“Whew,” Aubree blew out her relief between pursed lips. “For a minute there I thought you were going to take a page out of Mom’s book and suggest that if I turn forty before I meet ‘the one’ I’d spoil like sour milk and be done.”
“Sour milk is just as useful as fresh,” Nancy pointed out, reminding Aubree of her successful career as a pastry chef. “Just let yourself be yourself. You’ll be just right for someone, and if that someone is only you, well, you’ll still be enough.”
“Good advice,” Aubree agreed, forcing herself to speak normally past the catch in her throat. Then, deciding a bit of levity was in order, she added, “Have you been watching talk shows again or something?”
Nancy snorted. “I married a counselor, remember? I have a whole new vocabulary to play with, one that doesn’t involve dough, knives and pastry cream. It’s enlightening to say the least.”
“So, how is Javier?” Aubree demanded.
“Dreamy,” Nancy said. “After watching so many friends and relatives settle for boring men, boring jobs and boring relationships, I was scared to death, but I should have known better. Javie would just die if I was bored. My happiness is equal to his own, and he hates routine as much as I do, so in order to keep things real, we’ve bought some land about ten miles outside of Bonner Springs and we’re designing a house. Plus, we’re saving up to go on a cool vacation. Without kids, we can cash in on non-peak travel seasons, which is awesome. We’ve made a promise to each other to take time to travel every year. See? A good relationship is nothing like what your sister… and my aunties… have always advocated. It’s about finding someone who makes you more yourself, more of what you dream of. Someone who works with you to make your dreams come true. Yes, you have to return the favor, but when you love someone, that’s not difficult.”
“Sounds like a dream come true,” Aubree said, unable to keep the longing from her voice.
“And if you don’t give in and take ‘Mr. Available,’ you just might find it yourself, but don’t forget that you’re happy as you are. That’s part of it. I’m sure it is,” Nancy advised. “Healthy people are happy enough to be alone without becoming desperate.”
“Right,” Aubree agreed.
“Well, of course, there’s always the sex thing too,” Nancy added, sounding more like an aside. “I remember how you were when we were at the vo-tech together. How are you adjusting to all these years of slim pickings?”
Aubree blushed. “I wasn’t exactly a slut puppy,” she protested. “I only went to bed with a couple of boys during that time. That’s not so very many, is it?”
Nancy laughed. “No, not really. I had at least that many. What always stuck out to me was how you were able to compartmentalize and not get attached. You’d say, ‘this isn’t a relationship, because you and I are not headed in the same direction, and then you’d stick to it. How do you do that?”
Aubree shrugged and sipped her wine. “I’ve wondered that myself. I guess I just do it, you know? You’re right, the pickings here are slim. It’s been a lot of the same thing over the years. A hook up, but nothing serious. Nothing I’d want to hit again.”
“A lot? Slut puppy!” Nancy giggled. Aubree could just see her friend toying with her curly black hair.
“Well, not so much,” Aubree admitted. “Too much gossip, and in this hick town, too many misunderstandings. The last one…” she rolled her eyes.
“I hear ya,” Nancy replied. “Back in the day… there was nothing worse than a hookup who didn’t get it. Lucky for me, my Mr. Wrong didn’t give up when I tried to wriggle out of our one-night stand, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Aubree asked, on guard against her friend’s sudden and pointed change in direction.
“Oh, well… I thought Javie was just a hook up. Hot, smart and way too sexy, in that nerdy way he has. Why would he bother with the muffin girl? So I pushed him away, but he wouldn’t let himself be pushed. He kept coming around, not in a creepy, pushy way, but just friendly, and eventually, we got to be friends. The rest is history.”
“That’s a beautiful story,” Aubree said. “I’m happy for you both, and by the way, I’m sure he realized you were the muffin girl on the way to bigger and better things. But, honestly, even if you’d frosted cupcakes at Gina’s cakes for another five years, you would still have been totally worth it.”
“Thanks, hon.” Aubree could hear the smile in Nancy’s voice.
“Now, would you mind telling me what the point of all that mush was?”
Nancy burst into laughter. “Only you, Aubree. I would have hung up on anyone else for saying that shit. I just mean, don’t be too quick to push people away. Sometimes, there’s more than you can see at first glance.”
Aubree thought of Joe and frowned. There really wasn’t anything there. I’ve known the man for years. A hint of awareness that he’s attractive. A hint of congeniality, but not enough warmth to light a match. Even the sex was boring. “Sometimes, sometimes not.”
“I hear that tone in your voice,” Nancy said, sobering. “Did something bad happen?”
Aubree shrugged. “I hope not. I got boozy with a friend and things went too far. I had to set him straight. I wasn’t mean, but you know me. I wasn’t gentle either. I hope I haven’t made things awkward with him. I work with the guy pretty often.”
“Oooh, that’s bad. So no hope?”
“None. I mean, I have to wonder if something is broken inside me. Joe is exactly my type. He’s smart, ambitious, gentle and kind. He’s also honest, and his style is really clean cut and sharp. And yet, I can barely acknowledge him as attractive.”
“So why’d you knock boots with him?” Nancy demanded.
“Drunk,” Aubree admitted. “Which is why I rarely overdo it. I hadn’t had sex in over a year, and the alcohol, and his suit, and his eyes… and then nothing. I feel like a jerk. I know he was hoping for more, but I just can’t. We can only go about ten minutes before talking about work.”
“Sounds bad. Did you apologize?”
“Profusely, but feeling like a jerk is no reason to exacerbate the problem by giving him false hope.”
“Agreed. Listen, Bree, don’t read too much into it. Guys are usually good for a hookup even if they don’t get the relationship. I doubt he’s feeling as bad as all that. Maybe a bit disappointed, but he must have guessed. If you’ve known each other forever, and never made a move, there probably wasn’t one to make.”
“True dat,” Aubree agreed, lightening the tone. “So, what are you up to tonight?”
“Nothing much,” Nancy replied. “And wouldn’t you know it, Javie’s teaching a night class. So it’s just me, my ice cream, and my Netflix. Thanks for distracting me with your sad tales of slutty encounters gone wrong. It was better than a soap opera.”
Aubree rolled her eyes. “And on that note, I think I’ll go feed my cat. We single gals have a reputation to maintain. Enjoy your ice cream, and don’t be a stranger.”
“Don’t you,” Nancy shot back. “No offense, Bree, but your town smells. KC may be big, and may have traffic from hell, but at least there are no cows.”
Laughing, Aubree disconnected the call. As if on cue, Jasper sauntered into the room and regarded her with wide green eyes. “You can’t fool me, tubby,” she told the portly marmalade cat. “You don’t love me. You just want food.”
Jasper twined around her ankles and purred.
“Okay, okay. Let’s get you some chow. Damn it, Nancy made me crave ice cream, but I’d have to get dressed to go get it, and it’s about thirty degrees out there.”
***
“I’m sorry, Ms. Melville,” Jan said in her cool, reserved voice. “This really isn’t what I had in mind. I thought this town was supposed to be affordable, but all I’ve seen in my price range is shotgun shacks.”
“Well, Aubree explained, “That is a common building style in this town. With all the wind we get, lower is better. They were nice inside, weren’t they?”
; “Decent,” Jan admitted, “but I still don’t care for the style.”
“I understand. Well, you’ve seen everything that meets your requirements, so here are your options. You can rent your apartment for another month or two and see if anything opens up, you can reduce the number of bedrooms to two, which would lower the cost considerably, expand your search area into Holcomb and the surrounding countryside, or consider a house downtown. They’re a bit older and sort of… fixer uppers, but they’re two story.
“I’ll have to go home and think about this. I’m not upset with you personally, Ms. Melville. You’ve done the best you can with what is available. Sorry there was nothing to suit me. I won’t settle when it comes to a home.”
“I completely understand, “Aubree agreed. “Call me when you decide what you’d like to do, won’t you?”
The reserved older woman smiled, her thin lips curving but revealing no humor. “I will do so. Have a good day.” With a nod, Jan, the new middle school principal, made her way to her gleaming black Mercedes and backed out of the driveway, ready to return to her rented apartment near the community college.
Shaking her head in regret, Aubree climbed into her car, willing it to start. It purred right to life. Thank you, Rick. You sure saved the day, she thought. She waited a few moments for the heater to begin blowing warm air and then slowly backed out of the driveway. It isn’t really fair to call this a shotgun shack. Yes, it’s long and narrow, but it’s pretty inside with granite and tile and a lovely finished basement. Jan might have to be a bit less picky, but I really can’t tell her that.
Pulling up to a stop sign, Aubree compressed the brake. The car slowed, stopped, and then surged forward an inch. That’s weird. I wonder why it did that. She considered whether to turn left and take the highway north or go to the right and use city streets. Rick suggested I take it easy on the transmission, so I suppose I should go to the right. She pulled onto Fulton and, thankful for the light traffic, eased the car up to cruising speed. As she drew even with the Red Baron truck stop and restaurant, a cattle hauler zoomed out of the parking lot directly in front of her. Aubree slammed on the brakes, cursing as the oversized vehicle lumbered into the roadway. Only by swerving onto the gravel shoulder was she able to avoid a collision. Her car skidded and fishtailed but eventually came to a halt, inches from the side of the still-moving trailer. The driver continued on, oblivious.
“Asshole,” Aubree whispered, her throat closed off by her pounding pulse. “What do you think, you’re the only driver out there?”
She squinted at the sticker affixed to the retreating bumper, but too much manure caked the numbers to make them legible. Even the filthy license plate resisted readability. Aubree dialed the local police.
“Hello, I want to report a reckless driver. A cattle hauler just ran me off the road in front of the Red Baron. He’s headed west on Fulton, but I can’t make out the plates.”
“Please hold,” A nasal voice replied. A beep sounded and the connection faded to canned music.
Aubree’s phone made an unpleasant noise. She pulled it away from her ear and cursed. The battery light flashed red and dying. She disconnected the call and plugged in her phone to the cord in the cigarette lighter.
It was only then that she became aware of a most alarming aroma of something burning. “Oh, crap. What is that?” She turned off the ignition and stepped from the car. Nothing appeared to be on fire, but a spill of reddish-pink fluid on the ground beneath her car made her deeply uneasy. Returning to the driver’s seat, she cranked the key. The engine fired without a problem, but the car refused to accelerate. Stepping on the gas pedal produced no result. The engine revved, but the car would not engage in any gear.
“No, no, no!” Aubree wailed. “Come on, baby, don’t die! I just need to get you home.” She slammed her hand down on the wheel, turned the car off, and turned the key again. The battery obediently started, but the car refused to move forward or backward.
Climbing back out again, Aubree examined the pinkish fluid. “At this temperature,” she informed herself grimly, “anything still liquid would have to be pretty fresh. It must have come from my car. Damn.” She leaned into the car and retrieved her phone, but no sooner did she access the touch screen than the device shut down completely. Aubree stood staring at her car, occasionally allowing her gaze to flicker across her phone. Cold crept over her, penetrating her coat, biting her frozen fingers, and gnawing on the end of her nose. Slowly she shook her head to one side and then the other. What am I going to do now? I have no way to call anyone and no way to get out of here. It’s freezing and my phone is dead.
Befuddled by cold, adrenaline, and frustration, it took many long minutes for Aubree to realize that while her personal means of transportation and communication had failed, it didn’t exactly leave her stranded. Just across the parking lot, a busy bar and restaurant bristled with life and activity, even in the middle of the afternoon. Semis and family cars crowded the parking lot of the attached hotel. “Okay,” she reminded herself aloud, “the restaurant has a phone. I’ve called over many times. I can borrow it to make an emergency call to Rick. He can come and get me and the car, and I will be warm inside while I wait.” Though embarrassed it had taken her so long to come up with such an obvious solution, the opportunity to get out of the driving chill drew her toward the door. The gravel of the parking lot crunched under her sensible flats. Her hair disarranged itself, but she ignored it, even as the tips of her ears became chilled and then numb. I should have worn my hat. Silly to leave it home. Jan wouldn’t have cared about messy hair, and now I’m freezing. The parking lot, already huge, seemed to grow bigger with every step, the promised shelter retreating even as she drew near it. If I hadn’t been eating at this place since I was a kid, I might have thought it was a mirage.
Aubree stumbled, righted herself, and made her way into the dim, smoky interior. Separating the sides didn’t make much difference. You smoke in a building, the whole thing is going to smell. Wrinkling her nose, even as her frozen extremities began to thaw, she made her way to the bar.
“Can I help you?” a young woman in a white shirt and black apron asked. Aubree recognized the pierced nose and dyed-black hair immediately.
“Yannely, can you please let me borrow the phone?” she requested. “My car broke down and mine is dead.”
The girl peered at her. “Ms. Melville?”
Aubree nodded.
“Sorry, I’m not allowed, but if you tell me who you want called, I’ll do it for you.”
Aubree pursed her lips, but fished Rick’s card out of her pocket anyway, sliding it across the bar. “Tell him my car is at the entrance of the Red Baron and I need another tow… and a ride.” She frowned as she spoke. The adrenaline, it seemed, had begun to wear off. Her near miss and the subsequent frustration brought tears to her eyes.
“Of course. And can I get you a drink, ma’am?” Yannely asked. “You look like you’ve had enough for one day.”
“I’m a bit afraid to drink at this point,” Aubree admitted.
Yannely shrugged. “You’re not driving or anything. Let me get you a glass of wine. You sit down and relax. We have a really nice red today, and there’s just a bit left.”
“Okay, okay,” Aubree agreed. “I’m a sucker for red wine. No need to twist my arm.”
Yannely slid the glass her direction and then dialed the phone. As Aubree basked in the warmth of the heater and the soothing influence of the wine, she listened with scant attention while the daughter of one of her former clients arranged with her new friend to remove her Cavalier – RIP, old buddy – and collect her.
“He says he’ll be about fifteen minutes,” Yannely informed Aubree.
“Okay,” Aubree agreed, feeling calmer and far more cheerful than she had in ages. “I’ll just make sure this lovely shiraz doesn’t go to waste, shall I?”
Yannely smiled and moved on to help the next customer.
“I guess I should have gotten right
to work searching out a new car,” Aubree mused. “If the transmission is blown, I’m done. There’s no point fixing it. That transmission is worth more than the car. I’ll have to find something… maybe a hybrid. That could be fun. Or a SMART car. In a small town, there’s no reason to get anything big. Hmmm.” She pondered the possibilities, not fully aware of people moving into and out of her sphere until one plunked to a seat on the red vinyl stool beside her.
“What are you having?” a deep voice asked.
Aubree looked and one eyebrow shot up at the sight of the grubby, unshaven man before her. He reeked of body odor and when he grinned, his teeth – what few remained – curved into yellowed stumps. Aubree fought a rude recoil. “Nothing, thanks. I’m just waiting for my ride.”
“I can give you a ride,” the man suggested. “Want to go for a turn in my rig? I’ll honk the horn, if you like.”
“No, thank you,” Aubree said, more firmly this time. She turned away with deliberation, letting the smelly and uncouth fellow know the conversation was over.
“Well, now, I don’t know what’s stuck in your craw,” the man snarled, and Aubree could feel his hot, moist breath on her cheek. It smelled horrible, like a thousand mornings with no toothbrush and a pack of cigarettes burned all at once. She fought not to gag. “It ain’t asking much, is it? A bit of friendly conversation. I think you owe me that much.”
Aubree turned to face him. “I beg your pardon? I owe you? Sir, I owe you nothing. You have no right to my conversation unless I give it to you. You have no right to my company unless I consent to it. I have told you, politely, and in no uncertain terms, that you can count me out for both. Now move on, please, before I ask Miss Garza here to call the police.”
His scowl turned murderous. “Feminist bitch. What’s up with girls these days, hanging out in truck stops and thinking they’re too good to give a fella the time of day? Well, I’m not standing for it anymore.” A hand the side of a slab of ham clamped down on Aubree’s wrist. She stared, unwilling to believe he had actually touched her.
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