Chapter 5
“Oh. My. Lordy. Goodness.” Maggie whispered the words, afraid if she said them louder something else would fall from the sky. “How much damage?”
Sera pushed away from the car, and if her expression was anything to go by, the situation was bad. Spelled in capital letters. “Who cares? It’s only a car. Maggie, you could’ve been squashed like a spider.”
Maggie slowly reached for the lock, then eased open the door. It didn’t squeal in displeasure, but that didn’t mean the car was fine. She already knew by the limb’s impact, this situation was most definitely not fine. “Lil is going to kill me.”
“She’ll be glad you’re alive!”
“No.” She avoided glancing at the Tucker’s front end, instead keeping her focus directly on Sera. “You don’t know how much Lil loves this car. If Sera won’t tell me, you do it, Abby Ruth.”
It took a few seconds for Abby Ruth to respond. Finally she said, “It’s gonna need some work.”
“Even if it does,” Sera said, “our Maggie can fix anything.”
“I hate to tell you—” Maggie’s voice cracked, and she took a breath to steady herself, “—but I’m more a drill gal than a torque wrench one.” Still, she had to take a look at the car.
C’mon, Mags. You’re a big girl, and you can handle this.
She blinked a few times, clearing the slowing rain from her eyes and allowing herself a little more cushion. Then she plodded to the front of the car and took it all in. At the sight of the gash across the nose of the fancy car, Maggie swallowed. Her already sweaty palms went clammier and her heart picked up more speed.
The branch in front of the car had some heft to it, and it had done one heckuva number on the Tucker’s nose. Right above the third eye, the Cyclops, the Tucker now had a gash at least two inches deep. Maggie grabbed one of the sprawling arm-like branches and tried to tug the limb out of the way.
“Sugar, you’re never going to budge that thing alone,” Abby Ruth said. “It has to weigh dang near as much as the car.”
“It’s not that big.” Maggie yanked again, desperation clawing at her, but the darned thing didn’t even wiggle.
Sera ran to Maggie’s side and wrapped her hands around the limb. Abby Ruth let out a sigh and joined them. With the three of them working together, they were able to inch the thing off the hood. But with every movement, the sound of smaller limbs scratching across the metal were like witch’s fingernails on a tombstone.
Maggie’s eyes filled with tears, but still she could see the gouges and scratches in the Tucker’s paint. “This is awful. Everything is going to hell in a handbasket. I’ve got to get the car in the garage.”
“Little late for that,” Abby Ruth said.
Maggie wanted to lash out, to say it was Abby Ruth’s fault the car had been left out in the first place. But that wasn’t fair. Maggie had forgotten, and she was ultimately responsible for everything at Summer Haven. “Still, I need to protect the rest of it from the rain.”
She climbed back behind the wheel and idled the car forward into the garage. As she walked out, Abby Ruth yanked the garage door shut behind her.
The rain was tapering off, and Maggie said, “That limb has to be moved. Sera, go get me the chain saw.”
Sera eyed her, doubt clear in her gaze. “I’m not sure this will work, Mags.”
“Aren’t you the one always saying we have to send positive vibes out into the universe to be rewarded with positive outcomes?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” Maggie puffed out a breath, sending her bangs up in the air. “This limb has to go.” At least the chain saw was something she could handle. And right now, she needed control. Of something.
An hour later, Maggie finally cut the chainsaw motor. Her arm muscles were shaking and she was far from done, but she’d tackle carving these behemoth stumps into firewood later. Lord, Summer Haven’s heat could go out for a month, and they’d still be snug from burning fires.
That was one positive way to spin such a horrible accident.
Cutting up the limb had burned off some of the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, but it did nothing to correct the car problem. Now only a sick emptiness filled her.
The Tucker was damaged and she had to get it fixed. Admitting the accident to Lil after the car had been restored to its pristine condition would be much better than telling her now. No reason to give her something else to fret over while she was stuck in Walter Stiles and couldn’t do a thing about the problem. And what a doozy of a problem it was.
Maggie went inside to Lil’s desk and flipped through the notebook Lil had left for her. The mechanic’s name was on the emergency list. Thank goodness.
Maggie picked up the phone and dialed.
“Wally’s Garage.”
“Hi, this is Margaret Rawls. I need to get some work done on Lil Fairview’s ’48 Tucker Torpedo. I have you listed as her mechanic.”
“Oh, yeah. Not me. That’d be my dad. He was the only one who ever worked on that car.”
“Is he in?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone sad and low. “He passed away six months ago.”
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry for your loss.” And she was, but this situation required immediate attention. “Well, I’m sure Lil would trust you to work on the car.”
“I don’t mess with those old cars. Not just anyone can handle something like that. I’d suggest you contact someone from the Tucker Club and get them to track down a mechanic.”
No, no, no. She didn’t have time for all that. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I just need a little body work and a new hood ornament. We had a small tree incident here.”
“Even more reason to call them. It’s hard to lay your hands on Tucker parts. You know only like fifty of the suckers were ever built, right?”
Maggie paced back and forth in front of the desk. “Yes, but—”
“Not a lot of cars made, and not many mechanics who can work on a car like that.”
Not good news at all. “Thank you for your time.” Her heart as heavy as a sledgehammer, she hung up the phone, but she wasn’t about to accept defeat. She opened Sera’s laptop, tapped the screen and clicked on the browser button.
She stabbed at the keyboard one letter at a time. T-U-C-K-E-R-4-8.
The first site the search engine displayed featured pictures of several cars similar to Lil’s, but no convertibles. At the bottom of the page, a few links were listed. She clicked on the Tucker Club link and it pointed her back to Facebook. At least she knew how to use Facebook. It was how her daughter kept her up-to-date with Chloe’s and Clint’s pictures and goings-on.
One click and she’d joined the Tucker Club official Facebook group. She carefully crafted a post asking for help within driving distance of Summer Shoals.
Now she’d have to wait for a response.
Sera poked her head in the kitchen. “You okay, Maggie?”
“Yes. I was just posting something to the Tucker Club on Facebook. Turns out Lil’s mechanic died. I swear this is not my day.”
A notification of a friend request showed at the top of her screen, and Maggie clicked it. Chuck Tuckerlover. It was one of the men from the Tucker Club group. She quickly accepted him as a friend. “That was fast.”
Not three seconds after she approved him, a private message popped up on the screen with a boing.
“Oh, look!” Sera said.
Maggie clicked on the conversation box.
Tuckerlover: Hi Maggie. Welcome to the Tucker ’48 Club. I hear you’re looking for a mechanic.
Maggie: I am. Ours died.
Tuckerlover: Sorry for your loss. Which Tucker do you have?
Maggie: A 1948.
Tuckerlover: No, the car itself, not the year. They’re all ’48s.
Maggie: I don’t know what you mean.
Sera leaned over her shoulder and pointed to the screen. “You can just type IDK for I don’t know.”
Maggie wasn’t about to start using all those silly icons and acronyms, but this wasn’t the time to get into that.
Maggie: Can I call you?
Tuckerlover PMed her his number, and Maggie didn’t waste a second and dialed. “Hi, this is Maggie. Thank you for responding to my post so quickly.”
“You’re welcome. You can call me Chuck.” His voice was deep and raspy as if he was a smoker. “It’s always great to talk to another Tucker enthusiast.”
“Well, it’s not actually my car. It belonged to my best friend’s dad. He adored that car.”
“What’s going on with it?”
“We had a little…accident.” It wasn’t easy to choke out the words.
A pause stretched out on the other end of the line. Finally, he said, “That’s…unfortunate. Hope everyone is okay. Good thing about the Tucker, it was made for safety. What’s happened?”
“A limb fell across the front of it. Broke the hood ornament clean in two, and put a big old gash across its nose. Come to think of it, the car looks a bit like it’s been muzzled. Do you know someone who can help me?”
He whistled low, in a way that indicated bad news. “Must’ve been a helluva branch. If it’s not too bad, you might be able to get the damage repaired. You’ll need a good—no, I’d say a great—body guy. If you need a new hood, it’s gonna be pricey, if you can even find one. Parts are hard to come by because so few cars were manufactured. Which car do you have?”
This man was making her crazy with that question. Wasn’t a Tucker a Tucker? “It’s big and blue.”
“There’s a chassis number for each car, and we pretty much know where all fifty are. Ten-oh-one was the first off the line. So on and so forth for each subsequent car. Some are still on the road. A few have been wrecked and culled for parts. We can track those parts to the cars still running the roads.”
Wow, these guys were serious about their car lineage. “Oh, well then maybe you can tell me which one I have. Although I seem to remember Lil once saying her dad calling it the Big 20. Something about it being the same as his birth year, so maybe it’s the 1020.”
Another long pause made Maggie wonder if he was looking up something for her, but then he simply said, “Maybe.”
But the tone in his voice shouted I don’t think so!
“Does it matter?” she asked. “And how much will this cost? Are we talking hundreds or thousands?”
“I’m just over in Augusta. How about I come that way and see what you’ve got there? Maybe I can help.”
Wait a minute. She’d just met this man ten minutes ago online. What if he wasn’t who he said he was? What if he made a living from scamming little old ladies? Maggie had run into enough scheming men in the past few months to think twice. “Why would you want to do that?”
Her suspicion must’ve bled through the line because he said, “Look, Miss Maggie, I’m not trying to horn in on your business. But you sounded mighty desperate when you called. You can feel free to talk to some of the other Tucker Club members. They’ll vouch for me. We’re such a small group, we have to stick together when one of us has problems.”
Well, if his sincere words and tone didn’t make her feel like a paranoid old gal. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a stressful day.”
“I can only imagine. But you gotta make the call.”
“Chuck, I’d appreciate it if you’d come out to Summer Haven and take a look at the Tucker. When can you be here?”
“Monday morning.”
After she hung up the phone, Maggie was wearing a grin that wouldn’t quit. If this guy could help her get the Tucker back in tip-top shape, no way could Lil be angry.
Feeling better, she turned to Sera, who was chopping up onions, potatoes and carrots at the kitchen counter, and said, “Where’s that crockpot? Let’s get her fixed up and cook a celebration meal.”
“Was the Tuckerlover guy able to help?”
“He’s coming Monday to check it out. Keep your fingers crossed the repairs won’t cost too much.”
Chapter 6
Lil left her cottage and made the trek to the main prison building. She still had to move slowly, but the good news about Angelina Broussard’s untimely visit on Friday was Lil had barely touched a thing on her cafeteria tray since. Surely she’d dropped a pound or two, even though she was barely burning a calorie an hour.
But now, she needed to finally pull out her change purse and pay the piper. So she joined the phone line and waited for her turn.
She’d tried to think of every possible way to keep from giving in to Angelina’s demand. Only Angelina holding out her hand for the key to Summer Haven would’ve been worse than her asking for the Tucker. Some of Lil’s fondest memories of her father were connected to that car.
As she patiently waited her turn, she stared out the window. Even with the screen and bars between her and the outside, the blue sky was bright and cheerful for this time of year. In fact, it was as blue as Daddy’s Tucker Torpedo.
He used to say he’d picked that particular color because it matched Lil’s eyes, which were the same blue as his.
When she was a little girl, he would take her on weekly outings to the soda shop on Main Street, and they always drove there in his prized car with the top down. On sunny days it was fun even if the seats nearly burned her butt. In less favorable weather, he tucked a lap blanket around Lillian to keep her warm, and she hadn’t cared if she felt like a popsicle still in the wrapper, because those dates with Daddy were the best.
On one chilly February day when Lillian was eleven, they ordered their ice cream—strawberry in a cup for him and French vanilla in a sugar cone for her—and sat at the shop window overlooking the parked Tucker. He pointed to the car and said, “Lillian, that is one of the three loves of my life. Your mother, you, and that car are my three girls. My three treasures. I can’t control God’s will, and one day I’ll have to leave you all. But promise me you’ll take care of my other girls when I’m no longer around to do it myself.”
“Yes, sir.”
As it turned out, her mother had passed on first. And as with many couples in their generation, her father hadn’t lasted much long after. Which had left Lillian with only the Tucker.
“Phone’s all yours, Grammy Lil,” a twenty-something girl said brightly, pulling Lil’s attention from the blue sky. “Only two more months in this place and then I’m marrying the man of my dreams!”
Lil wished she remembered what it was like to feel that young and optimistic about the future. After Angelina’s shakedown, Lil barely cared if the prison system ever released her. At least in here, she was safe from her hometown’s judgment and scorn.
But Summers did not hide. They faced their problems head-on. Lil had only one idea for discouraging Angelina.
Angelina answered the phone on the second ring. “Hello, Lillian.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Well, you are the only person I know currently residing at the Walter Stiles Prison Camp.”
Danged caller ID.
“I suppose you have an answer for me.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to hand over my daddy’s car to you with no compensation.”
“Silence is very valuable, don’t you think?”
Lord, it was. But if Lil gave in this easily, Angelina might decide she had a career as a blackmailer, and Lil would never be out from under the woman’s thumb. She took a breath and plunged in. “I’ve considered your…offer. I’m open to the Tucker changing hands on two conditions.”
“Go on.”
“You keep your end of the bargain we made the other day by keeping my recent whereabouts to yourself.”
Angelina said nothing, and a fear so strong swept through Lil that it weakened her grip on the phone.
“Or have you already let that slip?”
“Apparently, I have more restraint than you because I haven’t betrayed anyone this week.”
Somehow, someway, Lil would make Angelina regre
t asking this of her. Maybe not the first week she returned to Summer Shoals. Maybe not even the first year, but Angelina wouldn’t get away with blackmail. Not without some kind of payment. But Lil just forced a smile into her voice and lowered the boom. “Excellent. And I’ll also expect you to pay a hundred thousand cash.”
“Excuse me?” Angelina’s voice rose by at least an octave.
“You may be many things.” Lil said each word with extra care to ensure they were even, rather than emotional. “But you are not a stupid woman. You must know that car is worth a great deal of money. In fact, I read a story about one of them going for almost three at auction a few years ago. Why don’t we say a million?”
Angelina would no more go for that figure than she’d take a step into town without her full makeup on, but there was no reason to make this easy for her.
“You cannot be serious.” Heavy emphasis on the not.
A tiny smile lifted Lil’s lips. “Have you done any comparative shopping?”
“You don’t seem to understand I have the upper hand here.”
It was true, but it wouldn’t do to simply roll over. Lil wouldn’t be in prison forever, and she couldn’t have Angelina making her life a living hell for the rest of her years. “Since these are extenuating circumstances, I suppose I could consider an offer of seventy thousand.”
“What if I don’t have that kind of money?”
“You’re married to the most successful doctor in town.”
“Twenty thousand,” Angelina came back like a bullet.
Oh, this woman could make a saint smoke and drink and cuss. “Sixty-five thousand.”
“Thirty.”
“Sixty.”
“Fifty, and not a penny more.”
Lil’s tiny smile stretched a little more. Exactly the number she’d been shooting for in the first place. “You get your money right, and I’ll be in touch.”
“You do that, Lillian, but don’t take too long. I want that car in my possession by the High on the Hog event or forget it. If I don’t have it by then, you can kiss your sweet Summer family reputation goodbye.”
In High Cotton Page 5