“You should be glad I did,” Hollis says. “Who knows what kind of mischief you would’ve gotten yourself into, getting into cars with strange men.”
On a more charming person, that would be said with a little smirk. But Hollis’s expression reads as completely serious, as if he doesn’t see the irony.
“Admit it,” I say. “You really are a cinnamon roll underneath that ridiculous burnt-toast disguise.”
“Huh? If you’re trying to imply that I’m secretly nice, I’m not. Still just selfish. You think I want to deal with the cops showing up at my door, all ‘Mr. Hollenbeck, we’d like to ask you some questions. It seems you were the last person to see Millicent Watts-Cohen alive’?”
“Of course. Nothing to do with you being a good person. Forgive me for suggesting it.”
“I’m not a good person, Millicent, and you best believe it. I’m a real jerk. A bad apple, through and through.”
I laugh. “You sound like Pee-wee Herman.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not your voice but like, you know. ‘You don’t wanna get mixed up with a guy like me. I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel.’ ”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I let out an intentionally wistful sigh that I know will annoy him. “I bet Mike would’ve understood my references.”
“Enough about Mike. Jesus.” Hollis taps his fingers against the steering wheel and bites his cheek. “You were really going to pay that man four hundred dollars to drive you six hours south?”
So much for enough about Mike. “I would’ve paid a lot more. I told you, I’m desperate.”
For a split second, he takes his eyes off the road and looks over at me. “This trip really means that much to you?”
I squeeze my backpack between my sneakers, giving Mrs. Nash a little makeshift hug as I remember promising her I would find Elsie. It was right after she told me their story.
I just wish I could have said a proper goodbye, told her how much I still loved her, she whispered, blowing her nose into the tissue she kept tucked into her stretchy silver watchband.Even after she died, she never felt gone to me. She still doesn’t.
What if I can find out where she’s buried?I asked.Then we can go visit.
Oh, Millie, but what would be the point?
So I can meet her. I smiled up at Mrs. Nash from my spot on the floor.
You’re such a silly thing, Mrs. Nash said, returning my smile. She called me a “silly thing” with such regularity and with such affection that it was better than any standard term of endearment.Well, I suppose, if you find the time to search that internet of yours—
I’ll make the time, I announced.I want to reunite you with Elsie, however symbolically.
Of course, I didn’t make the time until it was already too late. Mrs. Nash passed away in March, and I never got to tell her that the love of her life hadn’t died in Korea after all.
But now Elsie actually is living out her last days in hospice care at a Key West nursing facility, and I can’t afford any delays. That’s why I dug into myPenelope to the Pastmoney—“That’s supposed to be for your retirement!” I could almost hear my father shouting as I moved the funds over to my checking account—to spring for an outrageously expensive plane ticket and hotel rooms during oneof the busiest travel holidays of the year instead of waiting until next week.
“It means more than anything,” I tell Hollis.
“I suppose a thousand dollars is fair, then.”
“What?”
“As payment. For me to take you to Miami.”
“No way,” I say. “I offered to pay you and you said no. ‘Not enough cinnamon rolls in the world,’ remember?”
“I just saved you from getting stranded in Charlotte. Or worse. I think I deserve some sort of compensation for helping you, yet again.”
“I never asked for your help. And Mike was a very nice man. I would’ve been perfectly safe with him.”
