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Authors: Cheryl Norman
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across his mouth. “Do you mind if I bring Janet’s car here tomorrow to change the oil? It’d be easier if I put it on the lift.”
“Sure. Using the garage when we’re closed is one of the few perks I can give you.”
“I like working here. Wages are the going rate and you don’t breathe down my neck like some bosses.”
Sally laughed. “I guess I’m unaccustomed to being called boss. Just trying to keep up the business.”
Roy drained the bottle of water. “Have you thought about adding a side line for quick oil changes?”
“You mean, like those ten-minute places?”
He nodded. “More and more people, more and more cars—there’s a market, Sally.”
“Okay. Let me think about it.” She’d consider all options before she’d sell her treasured Mustang convertible. She had to admit restoring antique autos limited her customer base. Of course, restoration yielded a lot more profit than maintenance work.
“Is the Darrin finished?” he asked.
“I need to hit it with the timing light. Then it’s out of here.” She slid from the stool, her thoughts on the counterfeit engine. She’d learned nothing so far that would help Special Agent Ferguson. After she finished the Darrin’s tune-up, she’d have no reason to see Joe Desalvo again. Unless—
If she could locate another Willys F head engine, she could restore the Darrin to original condition, qualifying it as an original-condition model. Would he want to invest additional money?
In spite of her initial misgivings, Joe had turned out to be a decent guy. She hugged the memory of his tenderness and concern to her heart, ignoring the little voice warning her to keep her distance.
Joe switched off the cordless telephone and tossed it onto his bed. He’d been thinking about Sally all day. No denying it. And he needed to talk to her about this latest piece of information about Vic Bloom. Why?
That question baffled him. His father’s death didn’t concern Sally. She wasn’t part of his mother’s search for answers. Strictly speaking, Sally was nothing more than Joe’s mechanic. But he knew better. He needed a friend, a confidant. Someone other than family. In a very short time, he had come to view Sally as his friend.
Okay, so he saw her as an attractive woman, too. He hadn’t forgotten how dangerously close he’d been to kissing her last night. She may have wanted it, too, but instinct told him she was afraid. Insecure. After meeting her father, Joe didn’t wonder why. What an insensitive jerk. So Joe’d made his escape before he wound up taking advantage of her vulnerability.
Instinct also told him Sally would shoot straight with him. He didn’t need to interpret every nuance, every phrase for hidden agendas. Her honesty and candor made her good friend material. Furthermore, he wanted to be her friend, too.
When Sally tuned up the Darrin, he’d have no excuse to spend time with her. That’s why he wasn’t taking chances on her coming to Sunday dinner. He wanted her to meet Nina, and Nina would be at Mom’s tomorrow. He’d go see Sally. Rejecting him in person would be harder than over the phone.
Mustang Sally’s stayed open until five o’clock, giving him ample time for the drive. Pulling a nylon windbreaker over his head, he darted into the rain toward his car. He drove through the community of Anchorage, past the split rail fences and horse barns, then headed west toward Shelbyville Road.
The shortcut through Middle town, another community east of Louisville, took longer than he’d expected. The changes in the past ten years astounded him. What he remembered as shortcut county roads were now congested four-lane parkways. He reached Jeffersontown—J-town to the locals—and turned a block short of Watterson Trail to circle the block.
Joe rolled to a stop in the rear parking lot at Mustang Sally’s. Before he got out, he caught sight of movement at the back door. Was he too late? He slid out, searching the parking lot for
“Sure. Using the garage when we’re closed is one of the few perks I can give you.”
“I like working here. Wages are the going rate and you don’t breathe down my neck like some bosses.”
Sally laughed. “I guess I’m unaccustomed to being called boss. Just trying to keep up the business.”
Roy drained the bottle of water. “Have you thought about adding a side line for quick oil changes?”
“You mean, like those ten-minute places?”
He nodded. “More and more people, more and more cars—there’s a market, Sally.”
“Okay. Let me think about it.” She’d consider all options before she’d sell her treasured Mustang convertible. She had to admit restoring antique autos limited her customer base. Of course, restoration yielded a lot more profit than maintenance work.
“Is the Darrin finished?” he asked.
“I need to hit it with the timing light. Then it’s out of here.” She slid from the stool, her thoughts on the counterfeit engine. She’d learned nothing so far that would help Special Agent Ferguson. After she finished the Darrin’s tune-up, she’d have no reason to see Joe Desalvo again. Unless—
If she could locate another Willys F head engine, she could restore the Darrin to original condition, qualifying it as an original-condition model. Would he want to invest additional money?
In spite of her initial misgivings, Joe had turned out to be a decent guy. She hugged the memory of his tenderness and concern to her heart, ignoring the little voice warning her to keep her distance.
Joe switched off the cordless telephone and tossed it onto his bed. He’d been thinking about Sally all day. No denying it. And he needed to talk to her about this latest piece of information about Vic Bloom. Why?
That question baffled him. His father’s death didn’t concern Sally. She wasn’t part of his mother’s search for answers. Strictly speaking, Sally was nothing more than Joe’s mechanic. But he knew better. He needed a friend, a confidant. Someone other than family. In a very short time, he had come to view Sally as his friend.
Okay, so he saw her as an attractive woman, too. He hadn’t forgotten how dangerously close he’d been to kissing her last night. She may have wanted it, too, but instinct told him she was afraid. Insecure. After meeting her father, Joe didn’t wonder why. What an insensitive jerk. So Joe’d made his escape before he wound up taking advantage of her vulnerability.
Instinct also told him Sally would shoot straight with him. He didn’t need to interpret every nuance, every phrase for hidden agendas. Her honesty and candor made her good friend material. Furthermore, he wanted to be her friend, too.
When Sally tuned up the Darrin, he’d have no excuse to spend time with her. That’s why he wasn’t taking chances on her coming to Sunday dinner. He wanted her to meet Nina, and Nina would be at Mom’s tomorrow. He’d go see Sally. Rejecting him in person would be harder than over the phone.
Mustang Sally’s stayed open until five o’clock, giving him ample time for the drive. Pulling a nylon windbreaker over his head, he darted into the rain toward his car. He drove through the community of Anchorage, past the split rail fences and horse barns, then headed west toward Shelbyville Road.
The shortcut through Middle town, another community east of Louisville, took longer than he’d expected. The changes in the past ten years astounded him. What he remembered as shortcut county roads were now congested four-lane parkways. He reached Jeffersontown—J-town to the locals—and turned a block short of Watterson Trail to circle the block.
Joe rolled to a stop in the rear parking lot at Mustang Sally’s. Before he got out, he caught sight of movement at the back door. Was he too late? He slid out, searching the parking lot for
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