THREE

 

There are pros and cons to everything you do in life. If something is deemed too good to be true, then rest assured, it probably is. For instance, if you’re given a fantastic ‘new’ automobile, only it happens to be a 90-year-old classic, you can’t possibly expect automotive machinery to run every time you twist the key.

I’m referring, of course, to my 1930 Ruxton sedan, given to me by my fiancée after she discovered the classic roadster had been included with the purchase of Highland House last year. This was the very same car driven by Dame Hilda Highland, and had sat in storage for nearly 70 years. Thankfully, Dame Highland had enlisted the services of a local gas station to keep the car in pristine condition, and arranged for its maintenance even after she was gone. That doesn’t account for much when the current owner, yours truly, has, er, difficulty driving that mechanical beast.

Let me explain.

The art of driving a stick-shift vehicle is rapidly disappearing throughout this country. Most people prefer ‘automatic’ vehicles versus those with manual transmissions. If you want to be honest, I was the same way. However, I did learn how to drive on a Subaru with a manual transmission, with my grandmother in the passenger seat.

What an eye-opening experience that turned out to be. Fast forward to the present day, and even though I haven’t driven a stick for what seems like eons, I have never forgotten how. At least, I thought I still knew.

Enter the Ruxton. This beauty was also a manual transmission, but instead of the standard six gears, which means first gear is in the top left position, and fifth gear is in top right, with reverse directly below that and … Let me show you what I mean. The referral diagram on the shifting knob looks like this:

 

├┼┤

 

For the Ruxton, however, it has only three gears, plus reverse. The problem was how it was laid out. First was not in the top left corner, but directly below that, in the bottom left corner, which was where I’m used to seeing second gear. Then, second and third gear were on the right, in their respective locations. The diagram for it, as many of you have already guessed, looks something like this:

 

├┤

 

So, every time I brought the car to a stop, and then tried to ease it forward, I ended up jamming it into reverse, and going the opposite direction. Right. That explains the small dents on the bumper. And first gear? Psssht. I keep shifting into second by mistake, since it was in the ‘up’ position which explains the need for a new starter (I kept stalling it out). Finally, seeing how I keep forgetting the locations for the correct gears, the Ruxton sounded as though it needed a new clutch assembly, and probably a new transmission. But, do you think there are that many mechanics who are willing to look at an example of automotive technology that’s older than their grandparents?

That was why I was currently back at Rupert’s Gas & Auto, trying to explain to Vince Rupert himself, why the car he and his predecessors had taken care of for decades now sounded like the Clampett’s jalopy from that campy TV show with the catchy theme song.

“Holy crap, Zack. What in the Sam Hill did you do to the old gal? She was in cherry condition when we gave her back to you!”

“Umm …”

“Having troubles driving it?”

“Well, the gears take some getting used to.”

“The gears? You talkin’ ’bout the transmission? It’s a standard H. It’s a piece of cake. Don’t you know how to drive a stick?”

My face flamed up. “Yeah, I do, only it didn’t drive like that. Look, I know I screwed it up. That’s why I’m here. I’m hoping you can fix it back up for me.”

“Just the transmission?”

“Umm …”

“You did something else to the poor girl, didn’t you?” Vince accused. “Spill. What happened?”

“I, er, might’ve backed into a few things by mistake, seeing how Reverse is in the wrong freakin’ spot.”

Vince walked around the car to look at the bumper. He whistled.

“Is it bad?” I hesitantly asked.

“I’ve seen worse. I can get those hammered out for you.”

“And …”

“There’s more?” He sounded incredulous. “What else?”

“Umm, you might need to look at the starter. But, that’s it. I swear.”

“It’ll probably take a couple of weeks,” Vince told me, as he ran a hand through his slick-backed hair. “Finding parts is becoming difficult. The last time I worked on this transmission, I had to have several parts fabricated, since they weren’t being made any more.”

“Just do the best you can. You know I’m good for the repairs, pal.”

“I know you are, Mr. Anderson. Me and my boys will take care of it. She’ll be as good as new before you know it. Maybe then, I can show you the tricks I’ve learned in keeping the old girl happy.”

I grinned and held out a hand. “Deal.”

“Do you need a ride back anywhere?”

“Could you give me a lift to Jillian’s place? Er, I mean, Cookbook Nook? That’s where I left the dogs.”

“You got it. Let me find Dean. He’ll give you a lift wherever you need to go.”

“Thanks. How’s he doing?”

Young Mr. Dean Rupert got his hands royally slapped when he and his friend, who happened to be Captain Nelson’s grandson, committed a theft a couple of years ago.

“Who, Dean? Surprisingly, he’s keeping himself out of trouble.” Vince chuckled as he took the Ruxton’s keys and hung them on a peg behind the counter. “Then again, I’m sure it had something to do with an agreement he and I made.”

“Which was?” I prompted.

“If he screws up in the slightest, and that includes anything he’s doing, then his sorry butt will be joining the military.”

Right on cue, a tall, lanky teenager appeared and caught the keys his father had tossed in his direction.

“Take Mr. Anderson to 3^rd and Main. He’s going to Ms. Cooper’s place.”

The kid nodded sullenly and, without bothering to see if I was following, headed for the door. Whether or not the kid recognized me, I couldn’t say, as he didn’t utter a single word to me for the entire drive. Offering him a thanks as I exited the small truck, I headed for Cookbook Nook, where I was greeted by two over-enthusiastic corgis.

“Hi, guys. Did you miss me?”

Sherlock crouched low, stretched, and licked my hand. Watson shoved her way past Sherlock and presented herself for her own fair share of scratches. I looked up as I noticed Jillian headed my way.

“So, is it going to survive?”

“It lives to fight another day,” I announced. “I really thought I had the gears down, but clearly, I don’t. Vince said that the transmission looked pretty well chewed up. And, as long as he was at it, he’ll pop out the dents on the bumper.”

“What did you hit, again?” Jillian asked.

“The, er, handicapped sign in front of Hidden Relic Antiques was the latest. Burt was laughing at me, for so long, that I had to pull over to make sure he wasn’t going to have a heart attack.”

“Did you apologize for hitting his sign?” Jillian asked, as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.

My brow furrowed as I noticed my lovely fiancée was enjoying herself at my expense. “I did, as a matter of fact. He said I didn’t need to worry about it. Then, he did the damnedest thing. He walked over to the sign, placed a hand on it, and straightened it back up himself.”

Jillian whistled. “Impressive.”

“He was still laughing as he went back inside,” I continued. “Then, just to satisfy my own curiosity, I tried to move that sign on my own. Flippin’ thing didn’t budge.”

For the record, Burt Johnson was a former Army Ranger. He was in his early sixties, had spiky gray hair cut in a military-style fashion, and had to be at least six and a half feet tall. And ripped. Did I mention that? I still maintain I’ve seen the guy pushing a 747 uphill in those World Strongman contests. He denies it, of course.

“Do you still want to go? I told you before, you don’t need to go with me. I know this type of thing really isn’t your style.”

I looked back at her and grinned. “Going to a florist doesn’t really appeal, but going to one with you? I can get on board with that.”

“Right answer, Mr. Anderson.”

“Why thank you, Ms. Cooper.”

“You two are too cute,” one of Jillian’s employees gushed.

Turning, I could see that it was Cassie, a young black-haired girl who has worked for Jillian for several years now. In fact, I think she might have just been made Assistant Manager. Both of us gave the girl a grin as she moved back behind the counter to help a customer.

Twenty minutes later, we were stepping out of Jillian’s SUV and approaching Pomme Valley’s biggest and best florist, The Apple Blossom. Yes, before you ask, it’s the only florist shop in town. Why not just come out and say it was the only one? Well, when it comes to describing the different businesses which called PV home, I find myself saying that a lot. So, I’m trying to break myself of the habit.

Commotion across the street drew my attention. I could see the Red Barn Tavern, and I immediately thought of my adventures with the misfit thrill-seeker club from a few months ago. I had joined up at the request of Vance, who was helping a visiting U.S. Marshal locate a missing fugitive. Wow, I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon.

“Hey, Bacchus!”

Hand still on the door, about to follow Jillian inside, I turned. It was Yeti, who had taken over leadership of the club.

“Hey, Yeti,” I returned, as I let the door close and turned to my (sad to admit) much younger friend. “What’s new with you guys?”

“Have you changed your mind? We still have some openings on our zip-line excursion, happening at Cottonwood Canyon State Park next week.”

My eyebrows shot up. I had already given Yeti my answer, and it matched Vance’s: no.

“Yeah, not this time. Remove heights from the equation and you’ll have a much better chance of getting me to go.”

“Funny you should say that,” Yeti said, grinning. “We’re thinking about doing a deep-water dive just before Christmas. Some ship has been discovered in Monterey, and it’s finally been cleared for exploration.”

“The San Agustin?” I dryly asked.

“You know it? Right on, Bacchus! Are you with us? You mentioned you had your SCUBA certification, didn’t you?”

“I did, and I do,” I told my friend. “That would be a trip worth going on. Obviously, the aquarium has pulled everything they needed from it. I’m surprised they’ll let people enter it.”

“They won’t,” Yeti admitted. “We can observe, but don’t touch and don’t approach. It’ll still be worth visiting.”

“Let me talk it over with Vance, and we’ll get back to you, okay?”

Pleased, Yeti slapped a friendly hand on my shoulder. “Glad to hear it, Bacchus. Keep me informed! I’ll save a couple of spots for you!”

Thinking back to the fun times we had while vacationing in Monterey earlier this year, I opened the door and led the dogs inside. From the moment we stepped through the door, it felt — and smelled — as if we were in another world. The petrichor wafting up from the recently watered plants had me sighing contentedly. Both dogs immediately stopped, lifted their noses to sample the air a few times, and then looked up at me with hopeful eyes.

I knew that look. They were hoping I’d unhook the leashes and let them have free rein to explore the store. I can only imagine that, in their eyes, there must be a million different things to smell in here, which explained why both dogs were whining and pulling on their leashes.

I caught sight of Jillian inspecting a large purple flower arrangement on my left, and immediately headed that way. She smiled at me as she saw me approaching, and then disappeared from sight. Laughing, I decided to see where the corgis wanted to go, instead.

I was led over to a large helium tank and several filled mylar balloons. Glancing up, I could see ‘Happy Birthday’, ‘Happy Anniversary’, and ‘Congrats’ balloons, all in various colors. I felt a sharp tug on the leash. Looking down at Sherlock, I saw that he had positioned himself in such a way that he was looking up at the clutch of balloons, but from about five feet away, thus allowing him to see the flip-side of the clutch of balloons.

Guiding Watson over, the three of us studied the floating balloons. One balloon, a bright, neon green one which had a flower shape, had Happy 7^th Birthday printed on it. Shrugging, I pulled the dogs away, only … you guessed it … the dogs didn’t budge.

“What? It’s just a balloon. It’s not gonna hurt you guys, okay? Let it go.”

Both dogs remained mired to the spot. Sighing, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the balloon, with the intent to humor them. But, much to my surprise, as soon as I slid my phone back into my pocket, they were both up and moving around. In fact, they had just noticed Jillian appear from behind a cluster of long-stemmed white roses and quickly morphed into their Clydesdale personas to get me over to her as quickly as possible.

I briefly wondered what I would look like if I wasn’t wearing shoes, but socks. Would it look like I was waterskiing on the tiled floor? Probably.

Jillian leaned up against the counter and looked for Hannah. We couldn’t see her anywhere, but we could hear her. Her voice was already soft to begin with, but there was something about the way she was talking which made us think she was on the phone, and the call wasn’t going as planned. Jillian pointed at the closed Staff Only door and held a finger to her lips.

“I won’t talk about it here,” Hannah’s voice was saying. “No. You’ve heard my answer. I can’t go anywhere right now. Mom, I’ve given my answer. I will not close up, not even for a day. I can’t afford to. Please, don’t ask me again, okay? Good. Thank you. Love you, too, Mom. We’ll see you for Christmas, don’t worry.”

“I don’t think we should’ve heard that,” I whispered. I pointed at the far wall, where a refrigerated glass case displayed a variety of arrangements. “We’ll be over there.”

Jillian patted my hand. “Thank you, Zachary. I’ll deal with this.”

“Does she get the official invite?”

Jillian nodded, just as the small office door opened. Hannah’s eyes widened appreciatively, and she smiled.

“Jillian! What a wonderful surprise! What can I do for you today?”

Leaving the two women to begin their hushed conversation, the dogs and I wandered over to inspect the arrangements. And, let me just say, holy moly. A flower arrangement, done professionally, can cost you upwards of $100. And the ones in this case? The lowest I found was $75, and they went all the way up to $169. I was starting to think that Hannah had her flowers waaayyy overpriced, but in the few minutes I was in front of the display case, no fewer than three guys had appeared, made their selections, and took them to the front counter. Not one of them looked at the price tag, by the way. I guess when you were in the dog house, the amount you were willing to pay to get back in your significant other’s good graces ranked fairly low on the totem pole of priorities.

I heard one of the dogs shake their collar. Just like that, we were off again, only this time, we seemed to be headed toward a long work bench. I could see strands of discarded plants (baby’s breath?), the clippings from (I’m guessing) long-stemmed roses, and scraps of various colors of polypropylene. Sitting off to the side of the counter, totally engrossed in some type of game on his tablet computer, was Colin, Hannah’s son.

Colin is a fairly shy kid who doesn’t make friends too easily. He has the slim build of his mother, and the looks (I’m told) of his father: brown hair and blue eyes. I’ve talked to the kid a few times before, and have learned he’s a bright boy who loves school, and is considered one of the smartest. That, however, hasn’t made him too many friends, and as a result, he typically keeps to himself.

However, the one thing I’ve learned about the boy is that he absolutely loves dogs. He’s the only one who can give Sherlock and Watson a run for their money in the high energy department. The last time we dropped the dogs off at Hannah’s house and had the boy watch them for the night, the dogs were so exhausted after we picked them up that I had to ask Hannah if they had stayed up all night.

Sherlock yipped a greeting. Colin’s head jerked up, and he leaned over the counter to see two sets of eyes staring up at him. The boy was all smiles.

“It’s Sherlock and Watson! Hi, guys!”

Both dogs darted around the corner, each intent on making it to one of their known playmates before the other one could. Colin dropped to the ground and started giving them scratches.

“What are you two up to today, you hairy little squirts?”

Both dogs writhed on the floor in apparent ecstasy.

“You’ve got their number,” I observed.

Colin looked up at me. I’m sorry to say that I actually witnessed the boy’s cheery disposition withdraw into himself as he became the quiet, shy boy once more.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.”

I was determined to put him at ease.

“Hey there, sport. How’s it goin’? Whatcha playin’ there?”

Colin looked over at his tablet computer and shrugged. “It’s a game called WordPiles.” The tablet was pushed along the counter until it was in front of me. “Do you know how to play?”

Oddly enough, I did.

“Yeah, you have to find words in that jumble there. You can look here, above the letters, and see how many words are left to find. See this? There are four missing four-letter words, two five-letter words, and three seven-letter words. Need some help?”

“Only if you think you can find them,” Colin told me. “If I can’t find them, then I don’t see how you can …”

The boy trailed off as I quickly found word after word. After about thirty seconds, I slid the completed puzzle back to him.

“Wow! How’d you do that?”

I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. “Hey, what can I say? I’m a writer. Plus, I grew up playing video games. Pac-Man, Dig Dug, and Donkey Kong, just to name a few.”

“Wow,” Colin softly muttered. “Old school. Those are my favorites, too.”

It was my turn to be surprised. “Really? Since when? The graphics on the games nowadays are so much better than what we had when I was your age.”

“Have you seen what games are popular right now?” Colin returned. “Shoot-em-ups. War games. Alien invasions. Zombies. Those aren’t fun. Gives me anxiety just thinking about it.”

I stared at the boy and had to chuckle. A smile formed on my face as I realized how I could reach this kid.

“So, you think you’re good on old retro games, is that it? What’s your favorite?”

“Probably one you wouldn’t know,” Colin said, sighing. He reached for his tablet. “You’re trying to save the last human family from nasty robots. You use two joysticks, one to move the little man across the screen, and the other to fire his weapon.”

I nodded and pretended to think. “Do the graphics remind you of Defender?”

Colin’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, they do! How do you know? Have you played it before?”

“I’m pretty sure I have. I think you’re talking about one of my all-time favorite games.”

“No way,” Colin decided. “You’re telling me you’ve played Robotron? But … you’re old!”

“There’s no such game,” I told the young boy. “And I am not!”

Colin frowned. “Is so. I’ve played it online, on emulators.”

“Then, you’d be mistaken, young man,” I intoned matter-of-factly, adopting my fake British accent. “Now, if the young Master would care to add ‘2084’ to the end of it, I would be inclined to believe you.”

Colin gasped with surprise.

“Struck a chord, I think I have,” I continued, which made Colin chuckle. “Tell you what, you impetuous boy. I hereby challenge you to a Robotron 2084 throw down. That game, and many others, are currently on my arcade cabinet back in my place. Wouldeth thou careth to undertaketh the challenge?”

Colin was snorting with laughter. “I will wipe the floor with you, old man.”

“Old man, he says,” I drawled, as I slapped a hand over my heart. “As my generation used to say, ‘It’s on like …”

“… Donkey Kong!” Colin finished for me. “Can you really play Robotron at your house?”

I nodded. “Yep. I was about to invite you and your mother to come over to our place for Thanksgiving, since we aren’t going anywhere this year. I just have to get your mom to agree.”

The boy’s expression sobered. “Grandma has been pushing us to come visit for the week. I know Mom wants to, but we can’t.”

“So, you’ll be here in town. Good. You’ll be here for your butt whoopin’. Glad to hear it. I’ll take care of your mom.”

Colin chuckled again and nodded.

“Hey, would you do me a favor? Would you watch the dogs for me? I have to track down Jillian before she buys everything in the store.”

Colin laughed and held out a hand. I passed him the leashes, but not before I noticed Sherlock perking up. He and Watson both stared up at the boy and cocked their heads, something I haven’t seen them do to him before. I was about to ask Colin if he had recently eaten, which means he could’ve spilled something on himself (which could account for the dogs’ sudden fascination with him) when the boy shut off his tablet. He pulled his backpack from somewhere behind the counter and slid his computer inside.

The two corgis only had eyes for the tablet, it would seem. No, correct that. It looked like they were staring at the backpack. Why? What was in it? As I walked away and thanked my corgi-sitter, I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a shot of Colin’s bag before I lost sight of him.

When I found the girls, they were in the middle of a hushed conversation. Hmm, let’s change that to argument. From the look of things, Jillian was trying to talk Hannah into doing something, and Hannah was flat-out refusing. And, much to her credit, she wasn’t backing down.

“Everything all right over here?” I asked, using the friendliest tone I could muster. “Is there anything I can do?”

“We’re good, Zachary. In fact, Hannah and Colin have agreed to join us for Thanksgiving!”

Hannah smiled fleetingly at me before the tiniest bit of a scowl appeared on her face. And that was only when she glanced at Jillian. There was definitely something amiss, but seeing how I wasn’t the one the girls were mad at, I decided to leave it alone unless I was asked to give an opinion.

“Cool! We’re going to have fun! I have a new arcade machine that I’ve been itching to show Colin. He just told me he enjoyed playing the old retro arcade games like Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, and Frogger. I promptly challenged him to a game of Robotron, which he seems to think he’ll win. Well, boy howdy, is he gonna get his rump kicked.”

That brought a much-needed smile from Hannah, which was what I had been striving to do.

“I don’t know, Zachary. I’ve seen Colin play those games. He’s pretty good.”

“I don’t think you understand just how big of a nerd Zachary really is,” Jillian said, laughing. “I’ve seen him play those games. There are some he’s really good at.”

The smile melted from my face. “Some? Some? Lady, I’m good at them all.”

“Tetris,” Jillian immediately responded.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Tetris isn’t an arcade game.”

“Sure, it is,” Jillian argued.

“Believe it or not, it is,” Hannah agreed. “It was in the arcades long before the Gameboy ever came around.”

“And you know this how?” I suspiciously asked.

“Because I was the Queen of Tetris,” Hannah proudly stated. “No one could beat me.”

“And Super Mario Brothers 2?” Jillian coyly asked.

“Aww, come on!” I complained. “That one is definitely not an arcade game. I can only play it on my cabinet because I set it up that way.”

“You still lost,” Jillian teased. She winked at Hannah, which caused her to giggle. “It really wasn’t much of a contest.”

“Okay, fine,” I groused. “Statement amended to say, ‘I’m good at most of the games.’ There, better?”

Jillian nodded, pleased. “That’ll do. So, Hannah, this get-together we’re having on Thanksgiving? I need some decorations.”

“First, tell me what I can bring,” Hannah implored.

Jillian was already shaking her head. However, that’s when I saw the frown reappear on Hannah’s face. Suddenly deducing that the source of anxiety between my fiancée and Hannah was financially motivated, I decided to step in.

“Tell me you know how to make butt rolls,” I eagerly said, as I addressed Hannah. “I love those things.”

The frown morphed into the beginnings of a smile. “Butt rolls? Are you serious?”

“Oh, yeah! They’re fantastic. Taste so good, they don’t even need butter.”

Hannah curiously looked at Jillian and shrugged. “I’ll make them if you tell me how.”

Jillian had started smiling the moment I gave Hannah the suggestion. “Sure. It’s not nearly as hard as it sounds. Get a bag of frozen, uncooked rolls. Spray a cupcake tin—which I have a few if you need to borrow one—with cooking spray. Place two frozen rolls in each cupcake tin. Cover with a piece of plastic wrap, but I would suggest spraying it with cooking spray, too. Let them thaw, which will make them rise, and voila! Butt rolls. Although, for the record, I think they should be called something else besides that.”

“Then why call them that at all?” Hannah asked, as she turned back to me.

“You tell me what those rolls look like to you once they’ve risen,” I snickered. “You won’t call them anything else.”

“Butt rolls,” Hannah chortled. “Only you, Zack. Okay, you need some harvest-themed decorations? Let me show you what I have.”

Jillian’s phone rang right then. I watched her glance at the display and, before I knew what was happening, cringe. Curiosity piqued, I sidled closer, only Jillian planted a hand on my chest, shook her head, and then inclined it in Hannah’s direction. The meaning came through loud and clear. Whatever the reason for the call, she needed to take it in a quiet place. So, she wanted me to pick out some appropriate décor.

“I need to take this,” Jillian apologized, as she hurried out of the store.

“Is everything okay?” Hannah sounded worried. “I don’t usually see Jillian get worked up like that.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I assured her. “So, what decorations do you have that are Thanksgiving-themed?”

Shrugging, Hannah turned and led me deeper into her store. She took me to a display stand, and on it was an arrangement with a wide vase, a variety of orange flowers and red berries.

“This one, for example, has several mini pumpkins, as you can see,” Hannah was saying. “I’ve incorporated a few orange roses, orange carnations, some chrysanthemums, and even a few red currants. Oh, do you see those? Those are poppies.”

“Very festive,” I said, as I studied the arrangement. “Love the colors. We’ll take it.”

“You will? It’s kinda expensive, Zack. But, I can give you a manager’s discount. I …”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” I scoffed. “If you give me free stuff, then I’ll do the same to you. Now, what about that? It looks like some type of wreath?”

Hannah nodded as she pulled a step stool out from behind a large rack and gingerly pulled the wreath from the wall.

“I wove grapevines together to get the overall shape, and then incorporated … let me guess. You don’t care, do you?”

I grinned and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Guilty as charged. It has those little mini pumpkins on it, and that’s all it needs to get my vote. I think it looks nice. I’ll take that one, too.”

As I followed Hannah to the front of the store, we passed by a worn, walnut bureau, which was being used to display multiple knick-knacks Hannah had for sale. I caught sight of a set of hand-carved, wooden pumpkins, which had a small cutout to place a name card. That was something, I decided, Jillian would love: pumpkin name card holders. There were six pumpkins in each set, and there were three sets available for sale.

I took all three.

Jillian returned from her call in time to see me presenting my credit card to pay for the purchases. She sidled up next to me, slipped her arm through mine, and leaned against my side. Thanking Hannah profusely for her help, we headed outside with the first load of purchases. Once there, Jillian began giggling.

“Is everything okay?” I worriedly asked. “For some reason, I thought you’d be more concerned than this. You’re laughing? Curiosity has been piqued. What’s up?”

Jillian took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, and then slowly let it out. She faced Hannah, smiled, and then looked at me.

“That was Julie. She, uh, received some news today that she’s pretty sure is going to freak out Harrison.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Hannah worriedly said.

Julie was the wife of my best friend from high school, Harrison Watt. How both of us started in Phoenix, Arizona, only to end up in Pomme Valley, Oregon, continued to amaze me. And Julie, I might add, was currently pregnant with her third child. That was a fact that originally didn’t go over well with Harry, who automatically assumed he wasn’t the father, and … let’s just say things went downhill from there. Fast.

That’s all in the past now. The last I heard, everyone was happy. So, what had happened? What piece of news had Julie just passed on to Jillian?

“They’re having twins!” Jillian excitedly announced. “She went in for an ultrasound today, and the doctor confirmed there were multiple heartbeats. Can you believe it, Zachary?”

“Harry is gonna freak,” I chortled. “What did he end up saying?”

“She hasn’t told him yet. That’s why she called me. She was certain Harrison was going to react badly to the news, but I managed to talk her down. Harrison would never treat her that way.”

“At least, not on purpose,” I added. I looked over at Jillian’s friend, who had returned to the front counter. “They’ll be fine. Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, is everything all right with Hannah? When I came back from chatting with Colin, I saw the two of you in the midst of a hushed conversation. You were exasperated, and Hannah was angry. Wait, not angry. Defiant.”

She gave me an amazed look. “I’m impressed. That’s exactly what was going through Hannah’s head--defiance. Things are tight with her and Colin this year, and seeing how I didn’t want to see anyone hurting, I offered a small loan.”

“She refused,” I guessed.

Jillian nodded. “To put it bluntly, yes. I’m hoping I can talk her into accepting it. At the very least, she and Colin will be celebrating Thanksgiving with us. So, it sounds like you’re getting along with Colin. I thought you told me you were uncomfortable around children?”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I like him. He’s a smart kid. Quiet. I guess he reminds me of myself when I was that age. Plus, it turns out he loves vintage video games. Challenging me to an 80’s video game throw down? I’m gonna dust the floor with him.”

“You are going to lose to a 12-year-old,” Jillian teased.

“Probably,” I laughed.

It took several trips to the car to get everything (and everyone) properly loaded. Jillian took one look at the bag full of pumpkin place card holders and clapped excitedly, knowing full well she was already planning out how she was going to have her dinner table look. Then, came an unwelcome interruption…

“Oh my! We can fly! You can fly! We can fly! Come on, everybody, here we go!”

I ended up snorting with laughter before I was able to prevent my cell phone from repeating the new ringtone I had specifically picked out for my detective friend. What was it? Why, it was nothing more than the theme from Peter Pan. In case you want to know why that was so funny to me, check YouTube and look up tap-dancing detective!

“Zack? It’s happened again. There’s … why are you laughing? Never mind. I need your help. Another grocery store has been hit!”