Will had thought that summer driving would bring increased business, because the cars stored through the winter might need repairs, but it appeared he was wrong. He studied the books. Five pages full of debtors and not one from whom he could demand payment. Profit was meager as cash trickled in. Why hadn’t he taken an agency that catered to the money in town, like the Olds’ dealership down the street? He could have bought that dealership, but he was so sure that Henry was right, pricing cars for the little guy, that he never considered taking a more prestigious brand.
Since the crash, only the guys with money could afford new cars, and they weren’t buying Fords. He knew now that he’d made a mistake, but it was a bit late to whine about it. Will knew that opportunity always looked bigger from the back side. His customers needed repairs but had little money to pay for them. He supposed that’s why they were called the little guys.
Will was wary when Ernie Peavey ambled through the front door. Ernie had never been in serious trouble, but he was known for cutting corners when it benefited him, even if it came at another’s expense. Will remembered the time that Ernie sold a genuine Civil War rifle that he said was fired at the battle of Shiloh. It turned out to be a parade piece that had never seen a battlefield. Apparently Ernie had never made an effort to authenticate the rifle — or so he said when threatened with a lawsuit. But he gave the money back.
Ernie swatted the gumball machine.
“Hey, go easy on that, Ernie. I can’t afford repairs.”
“I thought there might be a loose one waitin’ to pop out.”
“Do you need a penny?”
“Only if it’s on the house.”
Ernie strolled through the shop fingering a few items as he worked his way toward the tire display. “Kinda lean pickin’s, I’d say.” He looked close and squinted as he rotated a tire. “Seventeen-inch, I’m in luck. I’m desperate for a set of tires. Back and forth to Madison each week has worn mine to a frazzle. I don’t think I’ll make it another week. I gotta feed the wife and kids, you know.”
“Can you pay for them?” Ernie made good money as an office manager in Madison, better than he could in Ashley Springs, but being gone all week must be hard on Amber and the kids. Ten, if Will remembered right.
“I’ve been home all week, but I’m driving back this afternoon. Got lots of catchin’ up to do, but I get paid tomorrow. I’ll bring the money Saturday and pay the whole bill.”
“I’m sorry, Ernie. I can’t give credit anymore. I don’t have anything left to replace those tires. It’s been rough.”
“It’s only two days.”
“Sorry, Ernie.”
“Say, Will, did you see that old man Kelsey died last week? Do you remember that time when he was about to call the sheriff on you? I saved your butt that day. Remember?”
“I found out later that you stole those melons. I was unlucky enough to be hunting near by.”
“It would have been your sweet ass if I hadn’t told him I saw those Hinton boys with a car full of melons.”
“Maybe so.”
Ernie approached Will and looked him in the eye. “Do you remember the time I told Principal Perkins you were at my house helping Dad fix his hay rack, when you’d really skipped school to go fishing? Do you remember, Will?”
Will nodded.
“You owe me.”
“I haven’t any money to replace my inventory. I have three kids.”
“Three? Try ten on for size. I’ve got to get to Madison. You’ll have your money Saturday. I’ll be here by noon.”
Will didn’t know what to tell Mary. He hoped there would be repair money, but he doubted it. He didn’t even have lightning rods to sell.
Will felt down all day, but he took pleasure in Sharon and her sisters’ excitement over the new dress. They’d place it on layaway at Samuel’s, and Mrs. Spaight would fit it Saturday afternoon, just in time for the ball that night.
Two days seemed endless. With little repair work, Will tinkered with old parts, cleaned empty shelves, and scrubbed clean the greasy floors. Walt Frederickson wanted a set of seventeen-inch tires, but he went to Brock McDougal’s when Will told him that he wouldn’t have any until next week. How long could he hold out? His grandfather was right. He had to get nasty.
For the rest of Thursday Will practiced saying “no” while he imagined friends asking for credit. He seemed to be gaining ground on nastiness when he heard Ruby tell Catherine, “Daddy’s sure out of sorts.” His new-found temperament shouldn’t affect his family, he thought, so on Friday he tried being nice.
On Saturday Will left home early. He didn’t want to miss Ernie. Today he decided to squeegee out the oil pit — a dirty job — but he felt the need right now. He would work until Ernie got there; then he would go home for the day. He’d hitch Fanny to the buggy and take Mary for a ride, maybe to her mother’s in Hinton. She’d like that.
Will scrubbed the grease pit until his knuckles bled. He knew he couldn’t get the pit any cleaner, but he still scraped. It was almost noon, but no Ernie. He said he’d be here before noon. Will scrubbed another hour, and then he went to his office. What could have happened?
How many rings? Was it three shorts and a long? Where was that phone listing? He looked through his desk drawers, in the magazine rack, and behind the gum dispenser, but found no list. Then he remembered: Bridget O’Shea borrowed it the week before. She must not have returned it. He rang one long, the operators signal, and waited. Probably on another line. He paced the floor for a while before trying again. This time, he heard, “Operator.”
“This is Will O’Shaughnessy. Can you ring me through to Ernie Peavey? I can’t find my listing.”
“Sure, Will, but you’re not going to find him home. I overheard his wife talking to her mother this morning. Ernie didn’t come back from Madison today. When she called his office, they said he’d not been at work all week. Neither had his secretary. His boss suspects they’ve run off together. Amber was in tears. Poor woman.”
Will dropped the phone. Poor woman indeed, but what would he tell Mary? His nastiness had come too late.
Will strolled toward home. Grandfather was right.
At first Will thought Mary was going to cry. Then she lifted her head and lightly caressed his cheek. “Will, these are bad times, but we’ll see them through somehow.”
“I should have known better. Ernie didn’t become a scoundrel overnight. I was bound to get muddied, wallowing with a pig. But — ”
“Let’s take a ride in the country, Will.”
When they returned, the three girls waited in the parlor. “Daddy,” Sharon said. “Ruby heard that Ernie Peavey ran off and didn’t pay his bill, that you can’t afford more tires. We went to Samuels’ while you were gone, and he agreed to take the dress off layaway and not charge a thing. I want you to have the money for a new set of tires. We all want that.”
Will sat down. “I can’t take your money,” he said. “It’s because of me that you needed it.”
“We all agree,” Sharon said. “Our family is more important than any ol’ dress. We want it this way. We’re family, good times or bad.”
* * *
Will watched Mary attach a blue sash to the old mauve dress and add a panel and pleat to enhance the bodice. It was as close to store bought as any old dress could be.
“It sure looks like new,” Will said.
And the three girls agreed.