Keith sighs. “Consider this your second chance. A way to redeem yourself, if you feel like you need it.” With a glance over his shoulder toward Brenna’s room, he lowers his voice and adds, “She’s gonna hear it all one day. Let this become part of the story. Let it overshadow the rest.”
Keith always has a way of making me look at things in a different light. How did I get so lucky to have him as a best friend? It was random, really. Two weeks after buying my Grand Prix, it broke down in the grocery store parking lot. I was eight months pregnant and fighting tears, not sure how I’d pay for whatever was wrong with it. Keith was there, picking up snacks for a party at a friend’s. I barely recognized him, it’d been so long since our awkward make-out session, and we never ran in the same circles. He was into soccer and volunteering at his church. I was into boys and art and general mischief.
Turned out it was the battery. He boosted my car for me so I could get home and offered to bring by an extra one he had sitting in his -garage. A new one was going to be a hundred bucks—might as well have been a million to me back then—so I agreed, assuming he’d be by the next day. He showed up in my driveway with the battery an hour later, along with soda, chips, and a double-chocolate cake for the pregnant girl.
He’s been my best friend ever since, an even better friend to me than Misty if I’m being honest.
I sigh. “Look, I’ll probably let you release my name to the family. Eventually. And not because I expect anything from him.” I hesitate, reading the card once more before setting it on the table. “I’m just not ready yet. But if they call again, you can pass along my thanks for the flowers.”
A knock sounds on the door then, and Brenna flies out of her room screaming, “I’ll get it!” before I can take a step.
My dad steps in first, his arms filled with a large box. “What’re you doing here?” He quickly sets the box onto the floor and holds out a hand. If there was ever a guy my dad wished I would marry, I’m sure it’s Keith.
“Keeping the streets safe, one flower delivery at a time,” Keith answers dryly. “I gotta get back to the station, now. See ya, Squirt.” He rubs Brenna’s head on his way past, nodding toward my mother. “Hi, Mrs. Wright.”
“Now, Keith. I’ve told you about calling me Hildy.” She smiles and winks before the floral monstrosity on my table steals her attention. “Who are these from?” She collects the card from the table, reads it, and sniffs with mild dissatisfaction. “Well, I guess that’s a start.”
I roll my eyes and nod toward the box in the middle of the floor, frowning. “What’s that?”
“A coffeemaker that won’t kill your guests.” My dad waves toward the door. “Come on. Let’s hit the road.”
“So you decided to take me up on my offer.” Gord’s smile is smug as he approaches, sliding his hands around the inside of his pants to tuck in his button-down shirt, the buttons pulling across his belly. The twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes makes me wary, makes me think that he’s sure I’m here for more than just a car.
Suddenly, I’m afraid that Gord might dive in for another kiss, so I step in close to my father until our shoulders bump together. He heard all about the horrible date on the drive over, and he promised to play interference. I didn’t even want to come to Mayberry’s, but I have five hundred dollars in my purse from Lou, and while I intended on giving it back to her, reality says I’ll need it if I want to buy something that doesn’t leave me stranded on a dark road late at night. In that case, there’s really only one car dealership I can spend it at.
Dad steps forward to take Gord’s hand, saving me from my discomfort. “I’m Ted, Catherine’s father. Lou said you’d be able to give us a good deal?” That’s my dad—right to the point.
“Yes, sir. I have just the vehicle in mind for your lovely daughter. And can I say how lovely she is?” His hands are up and waving again. Gord’s switching into car salesman mode. Or maybe “impress the future father-in-law” mode. I can’t be quite sure. Either way, it’s making my skin crawl.
Gord frowns at my wrist. “Now what’d you go and do to yourself? Did that happen when your car went into the ditch?”
“Uh . . .” I didn’t think to check with Lou on exactly what she told him, but she’s obviously lied for me.
“Poor thing. Aunt Lou said you were having a rough go of things and I needed to be extra nice. Like I wasn’t gonna be, anyway.” He tacks on a big toothy grin, and I press myself closer into my father’s side.
I keep my dad between us at all times as Gord leads us toward a 2010 navy blue Ford Escape with an $8,000 price tag scrawled across the windshield in orange. “Now, I know you said ‘car,’ but I can’t help but feel that a special lady like Cathy, and that precious little girl of hers, should be in a safer vehicle.”
“I completely agree.” My dad is reaching for the door handle.
I’ve already tuned them both out. “This is way out of my price—”
“How many miles on the gallon do you get on this?” Dad asks, cutting me off, scanning the interior.
“Not as bad as you might think. It’s only had one owner, low miles and mainly highway drivin’, no accidents.” Gord has turned all of his attention to my father, assuming he’s making the decision for his “lovely daughter.” “It’s in mighty fine shape. I even considered drivin’ it home myself when it rolled into the lot last week and I took a listen. Thing purrs like a kitten.” A fake laugh bursts out of his mouth as he pats the hood. “A powerful V6 engine kinda kitten.”
“And this price, I assume it’s before this great deal you’re offering us?” Dad’s left brow arches. A trademark move of his that says Gord needs to do better than eight grand if he wants a hope in hell of making a sale today.
Gord waves his words away. “We’ll talk numbers after. How ’bout I grab the keys and we can take it out for a spin.”
Before I can say, “No, thanks,” my dad is agreeing and Gord is ambling toward the office.
“Dad!” I hiss. “I only have twenty-seven hundred dollars and no bank is going to give me a loan. We’re wasting our time, and his.”
“Now, listen.” He pats the air in a calming motion. “Your mother and I talked about it last night. I’m done with my car loan payments and . . .” A stern frown pulls at the deep grooves in his forehead. He had hardly so much as a hint of wrinkles before I left home. “Look, Catherine. I know we’ve had more than our fair share of differences, and sometimes I wonder if we handled everything wrong. In fact, most times I know we did. Your mother just—” He presses his lips together. “We want to help you. You and Brenna. Keep your savings and let us do this, at least.”
“But this is too much.” I look at the price, then the SUV, then him, a knot forming in my throat. Even with all three of us out of the house, I know my parents have always floated in the lower end of middle class. We had decent clothes but always purchased on sale. We went to the local T.G.I. Friday’s for dinner, but only on special occasions and only on two-for-one entrée nights. Between my braces, Jack’s hockey, and Emma’s tuition, my parents are probably still weighed down by debt. There’s no way they have this much kicking around.