Deserts, Driving, and Derelicts Read online

  “Good afternoon, Mae,” Buck, the owner of the Tough Nickel, greeted me from behind the glass counter that was in the middle of the open store. “How’s that couch working out for you?”

  “I love it. It’s the perfect size for me to lay on and relax.” I smiled. “I have to admit that sometimes I fall asleep on it and don’t move until the next morning.”

  “When you get older,” he rubbed his neck, “you’ll pay for that.”

  He continued to rub like there was a kink in it. He had coal black hair. He was tall and skinny. From what I gathered, he was in his late sixties, but didn’t look past his fifties.

  “I’m actually here to check out the men’s clothes. Size thirty-two shorts and medium tees or short sleeves.” I headed to the steps that lead upstairs to where he kept the clothing section of the store.

  All the items on the lower level were antiques and not thrift store items. The thrift store section was in the back of the building.

  “You know where they are.” He went back to whatever he was doing.

  The steps creaked with every step I took. Heat rises, and in this old-house-turned-shop, the air was thick, almost choking me by the time I got to the top.

  Thankfully, the clothes were hung and labeled by size. I just grabbed a couple of tan pairs of shorts and some basic shirts. It’d be plenty for Bobby Ray since I still planned to look through Paul’s boxes in the storage unit back at the campground.

  When I walked back down the steps to pay for the clothes, I noticed Joel Grassel, owner of Grassel’s Gas Station, was leaning up against the counter talking to Buck. He had on his usual overalls with grease spots. He was a hard worker and it showed.

  “I see your car is still running,” Joel rubbed the top of his buzz cut with his hand.

  “It’s perfect. If you get a lead on a pretty cheap car, I’m in the market to buy one and let the church have this one back.” I put the armful of clothes on the counter.

  Buck picked each one up and used the old cash register to ring me up.

  “Actually, I was going to stop by and see you on my way back to Happy Trails. Are you still looking for a mechanic?” I asked.

  “Yeah. A good one that can work on farming equipment, campers, and a few cars. You know any?” He asked.

  “I do. I have a friend in town and he’s here because he’s between jobs.” I took the money out of my purse and handed it to Buck after he gave me total. “He said it’s really hard to get work because of the technology in new cars.”

  “That’s why I’m having a hard time finding help. No one wants to work on the old engines.” Joel shook his head. Buck shook his head. “Why is it that no one wants to work anymore?”

  “Can I send him to the gas station to talk to you?” I asked and took the bag of clothes Buck put on the counter.

  “I’d love to talk to him. And if he’s a friend of yours, he’s got to be a hard worker.” Joel took the greasy hanky from the front pocket of his overalls and wiped his hands. He took a card from his wallet. “Give him this.”

  “I will.” I put the card in my back pocket. “His name is Bobby Ray Bond.”

  “I look forward to meeting him.” He gave me one big nod before he and Buck went back to their conversation.

  Instead of moving the car and risking not finding a closer parking spot near the Laundry Club, I got my bag of dirty laundry, added the thrift shop clothes I’d gotten for Bobby Ray, slung it over my shoulder, and dodged the people on the busy sidewalk.

  The Laundry Club was packed too. All the machines were taken.

  “If it ain’t May-bell-ine Grant.” Queenie French smiled as bright as the yellow and teal leggings, matching top, and white legwarmers she was wearing. It was one of her many Jazzercise outfits. She was an instructor and from what I’d heard, did pretty well for her age.

  “Dottie called, huh?” I flipped the laundry bag from over my shoulder to the ground, looking around to see if one of the machines were open.

  “She couldn’t wait to tell us.” Queenie adjusted her headband and tapped on the electric globe where she pretended to see into the future. She couldn’t. She just liked to shock people who came into the laundromat. “I see in your future a man from your past that’s going to take you to the cleaners. And I don’t mean The Laundry Club.” She let out a laugh, making everyone in the laundromat turn to see what was so funny.

  I’d opted to use the washing machines closest to the front of the shop. With the bag open, I sorted between the whites and the darks.

  “Stop it.” I laughed. “If it weren’t for Bobby Ray, I’d not be here right now. Besides, I paid him back the money he loaned me so there’s no miscommunication.”

  “That’s good,” Abby Fawn said.

  “Hi,” I greeted Abby, the Normal librarian and local Tupperware consultant. “I didn’t see you over there.”

  “I’m filling in the bookshelf.” Instead of ripping the covers off old and beat up books to throw away, she’d bring them to the Laundry Club. “Now that we have so many tourists, they love reading and the books fly off the shelf.”

  It was one of those take-what-you-want shelves and it made Abby’s heart soar. Abby took her phone out of her pocket.

  “Hashtag new books at The Laundry Club bookshelf. Hashtag laundry. Hashtag Normal,” she spoke out loud while she did all her social media. She put her phone back in her pocket after a few more taps. “I just made some fresh coffee too.” Abby pointed the book in her hand towards the coffee stand that was also for the customers of the Laundry Club. “Go grab us some and we can discuss this Bobby Ray situation.”

  Before I’d come back to Kentucky I didn’t have a whole lot of true friends or confidants. Who’d ever thought that I’d find a group of women that I’d come to trust and consider sisters in, of all places, a laundromat.

  Abby and Queenie had already taken a seat near the washing machine I’d picked.

  “You’re doing his laundry?” Queenie held up a pair of the shorts I’d just bought.

  “I’m not sure what Dottie said,” I started before Queenie interrupted. “But Joel over at Grassel’s is in need of a mechanic. Bobby would be perfect for the job. I saw Joel over at the thrift shop and he gave me his card to give to Bobby.”

  “She just said that some shady guy from your past showed up and she’s sure he’s only there to get money from you.” Queenie crossed her arms and gave me a cross look.

  “To clear things up, you know that my family was killed in our house fire when I was a teenager.” It was a memory that I didn’t like to bring up and the years after weren’t as kind either. But it was my past and I was good at putting that behind me, until part of that past showed up this morning. “Bobby Ray was one of the foster kids in my last foster home. He had a full time mechanic job and literally saved all his money. We’d spend hours talking about when we left Kentucky what we were going to do with our life. He wanted to be a race car driver.” I’d completely forgotten about that. I smiled at the passion he’d had for it. “Anyways, for my eighteenth birthday, he gave me a card with three-thousand dollars in it. It was enough to get me a ticket on the Greyhound and make a down payment to flight attendant school.”

  “Dottie didn’t make him sound that nice. She said his hair looked like cats had been sucking on it and his clothes...” She fanned her hand in front of her face.

  “He’s gotten older like me. His hair has thinned. And he walked here.” I still couldn’t believe it. “I let him take a shower while I grabbed some of Paul’s old clothes out of the storage unit. Since I needed to get some laundry done, I figured I’d stop by the Tough Nickel and grab him a few pairs of shorts. That’s all.”

  “You’re so nice.” Abby shrugged a shoulder to Queenie. “I bet he was thrilled to see you.”

  “He actually saw all the social media you’d been doing for the campground and read the article about the Happy Trails in that National Parks of America Magazine. I don’t mind him being here.” I’d be eternal
ly grateful for all the hard work that Abby did. “He said that he didn’t come here to get paid back. He did mention he was down on his luck. But.” I got some change out of my purse and slipped the coins in the machine’s slot, selecting the hot cycle for whites. “Joel Grassel said he was looking for a mechanic and would like to talk to Bobby Ray.”

  “Really?” She looked as pleased as a plump peach. “That’s great. A long lost family member!”

  “Whoa!” I shook my head and ran my finger around the top of the mug. “We are far from family. He was really never around the foster family. Actually, we all tried to get jobs as soon as we could so we weren’t around.”

  “You didn’t like your foster family?” Abby questioned.

  We all turned when we heard the dingy bell over the door. It was Betts Hager, the owner of The Laundry Club and the wife of Pastor Lester.

  “I liked them fine and would be forever grateful for them taking me in, but when you’re a teenager and strangers tell you how to act and it really didn’t line up with the way my parents raised me, it’s kind of hard.” I scooted my chair closer to Queenie to make room for Betts.

  “Where have you been lately?” Queenie asked Betts since she’s the one who kept tabs on everyone.

  “I’ve been busier than a one-legged man in a kick the can contest.” She huffed and melted back into the seat. “My cleaning side-hustle has got me swamped. I really think people don’t want to clean in this heat.”

  “I don’t blame them. I’m having a hard time getting people to come to Jazzercise.” Queenie took a drink of her coffee. “It’ll break soon,” she said, referring to the temperature.

  “I seen your flyers about the monthly campground get-together. Summer Sizzling Party.” She wiggled her brows. “Very creative.”

  “It’s all Abby’s marketing and Dottie’s idea.” I had to give credit where credit was due.

  “Hey, I here you’ve got a visitor,” she said. “I called the campground office to talk to you and Dottie told me all about him. I told her that sometimes people just want to reconnect.”

  “Spoken like a true preacher’s wife,” Queenie muttered.

  Betts ignored her.

  “What did you need?” I asked.

  “I was wondering if you had any residents that wanted some part-time work. I need some help with cleaning. I’ve not been able to get my job at the church done and Lester is working away on all the sermons since the tourists have been coming to church. That just tickles his fancy.”

  “What does part-time mean?” I asked. It was no secret that I’d worked at the library for Abby to get a little extra cash. It helped pay back some of the millions of dollars Paul had taken from people. I’d made that my mission.

  I knew I’d never make up nearly what they lost on a financial or mental or emotional level, but I had good intentions. Every time I could give something back, whether it was my time or money, it made my guilt about what he’d done a smidgen better.

  “I need someone to clean a few apartments at the nursing home on the senior living side,” she took her phone out of her purse. “I have two little old women who don’t really require too much. They just love to talk so that really takes up time. Plus, I pick them up on Sunday to take them to church.”

  “Tilly and Olga?” I asked remembering them from church because they weren’t only the cutest of best friends, but they did talk my head off once. I admit that since then, I’d kept my head down and avoided them.

  “That’s them.” She laughed. “Seriously, they barely have trash that needs to be emptied. But once a week, I’m there. Truthfully, I feel bad for taking their money because I feel like they are paying me to just talk to them.”

  “I can do it. It gets me out of the campground during this hot weather and I can work in air conditioning.” It sounded like a pretty easy part time job to me and I liked visiting with the women at church.

  “Are you sure?” Betts’s voice took an upswing.

  “Absolutely. I can help you clean until your other businesses slow down for you. When do I start?” I asked.

  “This afternoon too early?” She gave me a pouty look.

  “No. I can do it.” I said and watched her face soften.

  “Seriously, you have no idea how much time that frees me up. This afternoon is Tammy Jo Bentley’s house. Now I can stay here and do all the necessary work for the laundromat.” She looked behind her. “Just like everything else, it’s really booming in here.”

  “Tammy Jo?” Queenie’s nose curled. “She was down at the Smelly Dog with that designer pooch of hers.” Queenie’s eyes rolled. “Fi-fi,” she said with some sort of fancy, rich woman’s accent.

  “I heard about that.” Betts’s snapped her fingers. Her face flushed when we all looked at her. “Just because I’m a preacher’s wife doesn’t mean I’m not privy to gossip.”

  “You go on and tell it then.” Queenie encouraged her.

  “I said I hear gossip, not take part in telling it.” Betts recovered herself as we all laughed.

  “What happened?” Abby scooted on the edge of her chair in anticipation before she took her phone out. “Hashtag Smelly Dog. Hashtag Normal. Get your dog groomed while hashtag hiking.”

  “You know Ethel Biddle don’t like no one telling her how to cut her clients. Well, I heard Tammy Jo told Ethel how she wanted that Poodle cut. When Ethel shaved the pom-pom off that dog’s tail, Tammy Jo lost her ever-loving mind right there in the Smelly Dog.”

  “I know Tammy is par-ticular about that dog.” Betts lifted her chin up and down slowly. “She brought it to church.”

  Queenie and Abby gasped.

  “Right into Sunday School. Missy King’s eyes blew up like two balloons. When Lester told Tammy Jo that she couldn’t bring the dog because of Missy King’s allergies, she had the nerve to ask Missy King to leave the congregation,” Betts said with a dropped jaw. “After she said that to Missy, I swear Missy said things that would make the devil himself blush.”

  Another round of collective gasps came from Queenie and Abby.

  “You ain’t allergic to dogs, are you?” Betts turned to me. “Cause if you are, I suggest you take you a couple of antihistamines before you go. I’ve got a box in the glove compartment. I take a couple before I go in just for good measure.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I don’t ever recall allergies.”

  “Good. I’m so happy you can start today. In case you did say yes, I put together a list of what needs to be cleaned today. It’s pretty simple. Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.

  “I’m fine,” I assured her.

  “Mmmhhhh.” She pulled a notebook out of her purse. “Here is a list of things she likes. And I check them off as I go because she’s strange and will go over your work. Also, you can take my van and I’ll take your car. We can switch up sometimes later.” She dug deep in her purse and pulled out a set of keys. “I just take the pushcart out of the back and load it up and push it all around the house.”

  It sounded easy enough and the list didn’t look so bad. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and traded with her.

  “While I’m here, don’t forget we have book club this week, but I thought we could go ahead and talk about next month’s book while we are here.” Abby looked at each of us individually and when we all shook our heads, she continued, “Great. I thought since it was the end of summer and it’s so hot, we could pick Heated Passion.”

  “Geez Louise, Abby.” Queenie’s distaste for the book was written all over her face. “Did you get that recommendation from Jean’s Beauty Shop because all I heard about down there while they were dyeing my roots was how much they just couldn’t put it down.”

  “Then it’s a good book?” I questioned.

  “If you like that sort.” Queenie turned away and folded her arms across her chest in the only way she knew to protest.

  “If you have a better pick, let’s hear it,” Betts said, trying to keep the peace.

  “Nop
e. You’ll’ve done decided. I can’t guarantee I can finish it in time. I’m pretty busy at Jazzercise.” She blinked several times.

  Betts looked down at her phone when it chirped. Abby took the time to do a little social media.

  “I thought you just said Jazzercise was slow?” Abby didn’t look up from her phone. “Hashtag book club meeting at hashtag The Laundry Club.”

  “Oh, no.” Betts stood up and put her phone back in her purse. “Lester just text me. He’s on the way to the hospital. Ron Randal has burnt his hand and I’ve got to go look after his boys.”

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  “Lester didn’t say. I’ve got to go. I’ll text y’all about his condition when I hear.” She darted through the Laundry Club and out the door.

  My stomach did a flip-flop wondering if Ty Randal would come visit his dad from San Francisco. Not that I had a thing for Ty. There just seemed to be something unsaid between us when he left town.

  FOUR

  After I finished my laundry, I decided to walk down to Normal Diner, the diner Ron Randal owned. If I was going to clean someone else’s toilet, I was going to need a shot of something good. Normal Diner was the perfect place. There was a big piece of me that wanted to hear about Ron’s accident too.

  The diner was just as cute and southern as the other downtown shops. It was your standard greasy spoon with homecooked meals and was a diamond in the rough. The L-shaped diner had a row of stools against a counter to the left and a few booths along the right side in front of a wall of windows.

  Every chair and booth had sparkly, fake leather vinyl that’d seen better days, but I chalked it up to adding character to the place. It was a hole in the wall place that was a treasure to find.

  “Hey, Trudy,” I called to the young waitress behind the counter when our eyes met after I pushed through the door. Her dishwater blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The diner’s apron was tied around her full waist. There was a big smile on her face.