Read Online Long Summer Nights by Kathleen O'Reilly - Free Book Online Page B

as stress-busters, but somehow the anticipation of more only made the stress worse.
     
    L ATE THAT AFTERNOON SHE discovered Frank’s Ice Cream and Carbs. At first she thought it was a slap in the face to dieters everywhere, but once inside she discovered that the carb in the name referred to carburetors, not carbohydrates.
    Clever.
    Already she liked Frank, whoever he was.
    She was.
    Frank was actually Frankie, a crusty old redhead with grease on her coveralls and a pink bandana in her hair. Instantly Jenn was curious. The store was a small ice-cream parlor with a working garage next door. Apparently Frankie was not only chief mechanic, but also head ice-cream scooper, as well. Dual-career opportunities. Smart, very smart.
    Frankie was buried under the open hood of a car, and Jenn ducked her head low in order to see…a lot of dirt and grease and car stuff. “So how did you end up as a mechanic?” she asked.
    The woman poked at the engine, and then wiped at her face, leaving two streaks of grease. Jenn realized that if she took up auto repair, her parents would have a heart attack. “Got started by necessity more than anything. Had a 1976 Opal. Piece of shit car that always broke down. I was working four jobs to keep the car running, but eventually I told myself, ‘Self, you need to rise above this one. You need to learn to fix cars.’ Now, in Peekskill where I lived,there was quite a few mechanics, but in Harmony Springs? Nada. After very little debate, I decided to buy out the ice-cream parlor, build out a few bays and ta-da. Originally it was Frankie’s, but the town patriarchy was nervous about entrusting their precious wheels to a woman. Sexist pigs. So I changed the name to Frank’s, and eventually my multitude of skills won them over.”
    She rubbed her hands on the blue coveralls, looking comfortably knee-deep in grease. Another contented resident. A cheery bell dinged, signaling a customer in the store. Jenn followed after her, watching as Frankie washed her hands, put on a red-striped apron and then dipped two scoops of Rocky Road for a freckle-faced kid. Inside the store were a small group of metal parlor tables, and two old men playing chess, and in the far corner, someone was hidden behind a copy of the Times.
    “How long have you lived here?”
    “Long enough. Too long.”
    “You know anything about an old literary group that used to meet up here? Some famous book types is what I heard. Is that true or just marketing spin?”
    In the corner, the newspaper shook, and Jenn looked over, wondering exactly who was behind the newspaper and then told herself to get back on task.
    “Book people?” Frankie laughed, not an encouraging sound. “Don’t know that. I usually didn’t ask who did what or how the engine gaskets get blown. You got some names?”
    “No. Just some old articles that made it sound like some hush-hush weekend gatherings.”
    Frankie brushed a strand of hair from her face and then thought for a minute. “There was a group of psychics. A metaphysical guru, but they didn’t believe in cars. If you ask Sheriff Phelps, he might help you out.”
    “Psychics? Real ones?”
    “Is there such a thing?” she asked, one hand cocked on her hip.
    “I guess not,” answered Jenn, not that she wanted to believe in psychics, but the plausibility of a paranormal reality made for great reading. She leaned over the glass ice-cream case, eyeing the flavors, and realized that it was almost time for lunch.
    “You have chocolate-fudge-brownie ice cream here?”
    “I have chocolate fudge. I have brownies. Want me to smash them up for you?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And if you write this one up, make you sure you get the name right.” Frankie dipped the scoop in hot water and prepared to make some high-fat paranormal magic. It wouldn’t make news, but it made happiness. Jenn would take what she could get.
     
    D IDI SHOWED UP precisely at noon, which was proof of her more bloodthirsty nature, but today