to ask about the accident that had killed his wife and baby. I looked out the window at the road construction that had slowed our progress. It would be cruel to bring up his loss.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” He spared me a sidelong glance. “It’s okay. Everyone does.”
“I know you ran for district attorney,” I answered as kindly as I could. “You didn’t win, and left.”
Maybe everyone asked about his tragedy, but I couldn’t.
“That’s putting it short and sweet. Thanks.”
“And you became the champion of the underdogs, like Ollie and me.”
“I wouldn’t call the only daughter of Ted and Anabelle Chase an underdog. Why didn’t you become a lawyer? I feel sure your mother urged you to.”
“Well, for my family, I’m an underdog and underachiever, I guess. We always lived in this big house over on Julia Way. I wanted to live in the swamp with my uncle. He has a rustic log cabin that he built himself.”
“You graduated from Auburn with a degree in business.”
“Yes, thank God. I barely made it, though. They created the phrase ‘skin of your teeth’ for me.” I glanced at his profile as he drove. “You’ve been checking up on me.”
“I admit it. I wanted to know all about you because I thought I was going to represent you. My father built houses. He always taught me to study the foundation before building. It makes sense with clients, too.”
“Then you know why I’m not a lawyer. I could barely stand being at the bank for the last five years. All those unhappy people. I went home every night and watched the food channels. I wanted to make people happy with my cooking.”
“I take it that wasn’t something your parents had in mind?”
“No. They’d rather see me married and having babies than anything else—since I’m not a lawyer. The bank was only a stopgap until that could happen. Not now. I’m dedicated to my calling.”
“Feeding people?”
“Yes. I like looking at their happy faces as they eat my food. It’s what I was meant to do.”
We’d reached the impound lot. The guard at the gate knew Miguel and asked for my ID. He pointed out where the food truck was parked.
I told Miguel he could drop me right where we were. I didn’t want to take up any more of his time. He insisted on driving me to the spot.
“I hope you have your keys,” he said.
“Oh yes. Not a problem.” I fished them out of my bag.
I hadn’t thought to bring a towel or anything to clean the seat in the Biscuit Bowl. Maybe the police crime people had done it. I opened the driver’s door. It wasn’t bloody, but
eww.
“Something wrong?” Miguel asked when I hesitated.
“No. Everything’s fine. I have some spray cleaner and paper towels in the back. I’m going to clean up a little. There was a dead man in here recently.”
Miguel waited. He’d wanted to help, but I insisted I could do it alone. Even when the seat had been cleaned, I was reluctant to get behind the wheel. I couldn’t get the image of Taco Terry out of my mind. I didn’t know what I was going to do. My life was invested in the truck. I had to get back on the road with it.
“Still thinking about the dead man?”
Miguel’s voice behind me made me jump.
“Yes. I’m afraid so.” I felt a little foolish. “Once I get back in there, I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s just convincing myself that he isn’t there anymore.”
“I have an idea. Give me the keys.”
I handed them to him, the little ceramic biscuit dangling at the end. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making a new memory for you. Get in. We’ll drive around the impound lot. That way, I’ll be the last person you remember sitting here.”
It was so sweet that I almost started crying. I
knew
he was a good man. Who else would even think of suggesting such a thing?
I got in on the passenger side. Miguel started the food truck. The police had backed it into the spot so it was easy to pull out. I did similar parking
“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” He spared me a sidelong glance. “It’s okay. Everyone does.”
“I know you ran for district attorney,” I answered as kindly as I could. “You didn’t win, and left.”
Maybe everyone asked about his tragedy, but I couldn’t.
“That’s putting it short and sweet. Thanks.”
“And you became the champion of the underdogs, like Ollie and me.”
“I wouldn’t call the only daughter of Ted and Anabelle Chase an underdog. Why didn’t you become a lawyer? I feel sure your mother urged you to.”
“Well, for my family, I’m an underdog and underachiever, I guess. We always lived in this big house over on Julia Way. I wanted to live in the swamp with my uncle. He has a rustic log cabin that he built himself.”
“You graduated from Auburn with a degree in business.”
“Yes, thank God. I barely made it, though. They created the phrase ‘skin of your teeth’ for me.” I glanced at his profile as he drove. “You’ve been checking up on me.”
“I admit it. I wanted to know all about you because I thought I was going to represent you. My father built houses. He always taught me to study the foundation before building. It makes sense with clients, too.”
“Then you know why I’m not a lawyer. I could barely stand being at the bank for the last five years. All those unhappy people. I went home every night and watched the food channels. I wanted to make people happy with my cooking.”
“I take it that wasn’t something your parents had in mind?”
“No. They’d rather see me married and having babies than anything else—since I’m not a lawyer. The bank was only a stopgap until that could happen. Not now. I’m dedicated to my calling.”
“Feeding people?”
“Yes. I like looking at their happy faces as they eat my food. It’s what I was meant to do.”
We’d reached the impound lot. The guard at the gate knew Miguel and asked for my ID. He pointed out where the food truck was parked.
I told Miguel he could drop me right where we were. I didn’t want to take up any more of his time. He insisted on driving me to the spot.
“I hope you have your keys,” he said.
“Oh yes. Not a problem.” I fished them out of my bag.
I hadn’t thought to bring a towel or anything to clean the seat in the Biscuit Bowl. Maybe the police crime people had done it. I opened the driver’s door. It wasn’t bloody, but
eww.
“Something wrong?” Miguel asked when I hesitated.
“No. Everything’s fine. I have some spray cleaner and paper towels in the back. I’m going to clean up a little. There was a dead man in here recently.”
Miguel waited. He’d wanted to help, but I insisted I could do it alone. Even when the seat had been cleaned, I was reluctant to get behind the wheel. I couldn’t get the image of Taco Terry out of my mind. I didn’t know what I was going to do. My life was invested in the truck. I had to get back on the road with it.
“Still thinking about the dead man?”
Miguel’s voice behind me made me jump.
“Yes. I’m afraid so.” I felt a little foolish. “Once I get back in there, I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s just convincing myself that he isn’t there anymore.”
“I have an idea. Give me the keys.”
I handed them to him, the little ceramic biscuit dangling at the end. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making a new memory for you. Get in. We’ll drive around the impound lot. That way, I’ll be the last person you remember sitting here.”
It was so sweet that I almost started crying. I
knew
he was a good man. Who else would even think of suggesting such a thing?
I got in on the passenger side. Miguel started the food truck. The police had backed it into the spot so it was easy to pull out. I did similar parking
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