When Melanie didn’t see anyone, she attempted to call over the music. “Hello?”
Silence . . . well, from a person who wasn’t on a radio in any event.
Melanie stepped deeper into the shop. “Hello?”
“Hold up.” She heard the voice of a man.
She stopped in front of the open hood of her car. Whoever had been looking at it had taken off bits and set them to the side. Computer code would be just as foreign as the underside of a car. She didn’t know her way around an engine and wasn’t going to pretend to now.
The volume of the music diminished and someone called, “Hey there.”
Melanie turned to a familiar face. “Hello, Mr. Miller.”
Mr. Miller had owned the shop for as long as Melanie could remember. He worked on everyone’s car in town at some point. At six two or better, with a good extra forty pounds on him, Mr. Miller had always appeared intimidating. Until he smiled like he was now. Then he was a big teddy bear. “Melanie Bartlett? Richard’s girl.”
“That’s right, Mr. Miller.”
“Well I’ll be. You are all grown up.” He pulled a shop towel from the side of her car and wiped his hands. Not that the stains would disappear after five years of hard scrubbing.
“Ten years has a way of doing that,” she said with a grin.
“And who is this?” He smiled at Hope.
Hope held her hand tight.
“This is my daughter, Hope. Say hello, honey.”
“Hello, Mr. Miller.”
“So polite, too.” He winked and Hope attempted to wink back.
“How is Mrs. Miller?”
“Fine, just fine. I’m sure she’d love to see you. You’ll have to drop by the house and bring this cutie with you.”
It was hard not to smile. Mrs. Miller loved to bake, hence Mr. Miller’s slightly large girth. Dropping by was a favorite pastime when she was a kid and always resulted in a take-home package of something sweet.
“We’ll do that.”
Mr. Miller rounded in front of the car. “This yours?”
“Sorry to say.”
He made a few tsk-tsk sounds and his smile started to fade.
“That bad?”
“It’s not good. Luke is digging deeper to make sure, but . . .”
She had to wade through the bad news before the name Mr. Miller had used sank in. “Luke is still here?”
“Of course.”
Despite her dead car, she smiled again. She couldn’t wait to catch up with her old friend.
Mr. Miller started talking about oil levels and starters . . . something about a block. Everything he said was all over her head.
The sound of a motorcycle drew their attention to the front of the garage.
Luke still wore black and leather . . . his frame had filled out in ten years, but he still had that swagger that drove Zoe crazy in high school. Melanie always thought the two of them would ride off into the sunset on his bike.
Life happens, and that wasn’t their path.
“Mel?”
She dropped her daughter’s hand and accepted his hug. “Luke!”
He picked her up and swung her around. “Jesus, look at you.”
She knew she didn’t look bad. Ten years had filled her curves out as well. Staying in shape was easy when your car broke down all the time and walking was a better option than taking the city bus.
She punched his arm when he set her back down. “Look at me? Look at you. There should be a law for looking better than you did in high school.”
Luke winked, just like his dad, and swung an arm over her shoulders. “Good to see you, too.” His eyes traveled to Hope. “This must be your girl.”
After introductions and another attempt at winking out of Hope, they started back into the garage. “Jo dropped in earlier, said this was your car. I took the liberty of taking it apart.”
If there was one person she could trust under the hood more than Mr. Miller, it was Mr. Miller’s son.
“Your dad says it’s bad.”
“Our car died,” Hope said from the side.
“It sure did,” Luke agreed.
“What are we going to drive if our car is dead, Mommy?”
Melanie glanced at Hope. “I’m sure Luke and Mr. Miller can fix it.”
Only one look at Luke and that assurance blew away. “Or not.”
Hope drew her brows together with worry. “But we need a car.”
“It will be okay, baby.”
“Hey, Hope?” Mr. Miller distracted her. “Do you know what the best part about having a broken car is?”
She shook her head.
“Auto shops always have fresh donuts. Do you like donuts?”
She bobbed her head and took his hand, before Mr. Miller led her down the hall and into the office.
“Is it that bad?” Melanie asked once Hope was gone.
“Nothing that a little C-4 and the back of Grayson’s farm won’t take care of.”
“C’mon . . .”
“How long was the oil light on, Mel?” Luke ran a hand over his slightly long hair and stared at her.
“It’s always on. I topped off the oil in Redding.”
“Topping off means some of it ran out . . . did it take the entire quart?”
“Yeah.”
“Did the oil light go off?”
“No. It went on in Modesto, flickered on more than off ever since.”