“What about hiring a front office person?” Duane lowered the volume of his voice. “Maybe Cletus’ll concede to that, and that would keep folks out of the garage. We could say it’s a safety issue.”
After witnessing Shelly’s treatment of a few customers, Duane had grown as concerned as I was. His worry eased some of my unrest. But at the same time, it irritated me. He was about to go on his grand adventure; the shop wasn’t really his priority anymore.
No. This problem was mine to solve.
And it was a big problem. Every time a customer walked into the garage, I had to stop what I was doing and sprint to the front. If folks encountered our new mechanic, they left in a tizzy, swearing to never return.
Shelly didn’t shake hands with anyone. That’s a big no-no in our part of the world, especially when a handshake is offered. She seemed incapable of small talk. If she didn’t offend a person, she creeped them out. And when she did talk, it was to make an insulting—albeit totally valid—comment.
When Devron Stokes came by to pick up his Chevy, she told the man he didn’t know how to drive a manual transmission and that’s why his blew out prematurely. She suggested he take driving lessons or ride a bike.
He was not amused.
Shelly had managed to rebuild his transmission by engineering and casting replacement parts on her own, saving the man a boatload of money, and us a ton of time.
See what I mean?
Talented.
We’d all been super impressed. If she hadn’t been mean, I might’ve asked her to teach me. But she was mean. Thus, I didn’t ask.
Case in point, when Mrs. Simmons brought her car in with a note from her husband with just “710” written on it, Shelly turned it upside down, pointed to the scrawled handwriting, and said, “It says oil, not 710.”
In this case, it wasn’t what Shelly said that was the problem, it was how she said it.
When Mrs. Simmons—who happened to be Darlene’s momma—responded with, “Watch your tone, missy. I’ve a mind to teach your smart mouth a thing or two.”
Shelly’s glare sharpened. Clearly she didn’t like Mrs. Simmons’s tone either, and her response made the older woman turn bright red. “You planning on teaching me how to speak idiot?”
Not helping matters, Duane unsuccessfully stifled a laugh at these words, drawing Mrs. Simmons’s ire. Duane never laughed.
Since Cletus wouldn’t do anything about the woman, Duane and I had worked out a system to keep Shelly hidden from view. That meant one of us were present in the shop at all times, just to be sure, and productivity had suffered.
Scratching my neck, I glanced at Cletus. He was across the church lot, chatting with Judge Payton and Carter McClure. My peculiar brother liked to play shuffleboard with the old folks at the senior center every Sunday and I’d volunteered to drive him over there today.
Or rather, he’d volunteered me to drive him, saying I needed exposure to wisdom, and sports without balls, whatever that meant. And I’d agreed, because I wanted to press the Shelly issue.
“I’ll figure something out.” I shrugged.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Let me help.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing for you to do.”
“I’m not leaving for a few more weeks, maybe I can—”
“Forget about it. I’m driving Cletus to the senior center, let me bring up the idea of a front office person on the way over.”
“I don’t get it, it’s like he doesn’t even notice how rude she’s being.” Duane’s face scrunched with dissatisfaction.
“Maybe he doesn’t care.”
“He’d care if he took the time to notice. He’s definitely fixating on something.”
I nodded my agreement. We’d learned over the years to leave Cletus be when he was on one of his fixation rampages, but this thing with Shelly was time-sensitive. At this rate, we wouldn’t have any customers left in a few months.
My brother eyed me. “Do you think it has to do with what Jethro said the other night?”
“What?” I didn’t know what he meant at first, but then I remembered our recent gathering at the newly renovated carriage house. “Oh, you mean about Cletus having a lady friend?”
“Yeah.”
Jethro had hinted that Cletus was preoccupied with a woman, but I couldn’t get out of my oldest brother who the woman was.
On the one hand, I didn’t like the idea of Cletus being distracted because of a woman. He was the only one—other than me—who hadn’t made big changes in his life over the last year. But on the other hand, when or if the identity of Cletus’s lady was revealed, we’d all be able to meddle with Cletus like he’d been meddling with us. And that was a cause I could get behind.
“I don’t know,” I said distractedly, fiddling with my keys.
“I think Jethro was right.”
Something about the way he’d said the words caught my attention. “Do you know who she is?”
Rather than answering the question, Duane lifted his chin toward Drew Runous. “If Cletus doesn’t listen, you might need to go to Drew.”
In addition to being our sister’s intended—though they weren’t yet officially engaged—Drew was a part owner—a silent partner—in the Winston Brothers Auto Shop. He’d bankrolled the upfront costs. But he was very hands-off, trusting Cletus with the business side, and Duane and me with the getting stuff done side.
“Don’t worry about it, Duane.”
“Promise you’ll go to Drew.”
“Fine. If it comes to it, I’ll talk to Drew.”
As soon as I made the promise, Duane’s stern expression cleared.
“Do you want me to come with you? To the senior center? Maybe if we both talked to Cletus, and he was trapped . . .”
Smiling at my twin, I shook my head. “Nah. You need to drive Jess home. And, besides, I think Roscoe was looking forward to spending some time with y’all.”
Our youngest brother, Roscoe, was in town from vet school because this week marked the one-year anniversary of our mother’s death. Ashley had sent a group text message earlier in the week, saying, Dinner on Tuesday the 4th at home. Please be there or I’ll be forced to wax your beard from your face. You know I will… XOXO Ash
So, in addition to everything else going wrong recently, I had that to look forward to.
“We need to go.” Cletus’s firm demand cut through our discussion and we both glanced at our older brother as he approached. He walked past without pausing, clearly expecting me to follow.
Duane and I shared an eye-roll, but I detected a hint of amusement in his expression. Or maybe it was nostalgia.
And it struck me in that moment how quickly Duane’s departure was approaching. We basically had six weeks left and then he’d be gone for a long, long, long time.
“It’s almost shuffleboard time, Beau,” Cletus called back to me, waving me forward like my lack of movement was a direct affront to his person. “Quit making eyes at your mirror image.”
“Are you sure you want to leave all this?” I asked Duane as I pulled my keys from my pocket.
“Oh, I’ll be back.” My brother glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Jessica’s laughter, and when he turned to me again, his expression was a little smug and a little hazy. “But maybe not for a while.”
* * *