Startled, I straightened at the register. She was maybe in her fifties – although it was hard to say for sure with her flashy jewelry and beauty-pageant smile. She wore denim capris, wedge sandals, and a neon pink T-shirt knotted at the waist.
I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Uh…late?"
She sagged with obvious relief. "So I'm not?" She looked heavenward. "Thank God. I swore up and down that I'd be on time." She lifted her wrist and squinted at a rhinestone-studded watch. "Oh, shit. Iamlate."
I reached for the clipboard. "For…an appointment?" It wasn'tcompletelyout of the question. To nobody's surprise, I had rehired Trevor the same day he'd shown up out of the blue.
By now, he'd been back for just over a week, and we'd settled into a decent rhythm as the season kicked into high gear.
About rehiring him, I had no regrets – well, except for the fact he wasn't Griff.
Abouthim, my pile of regrets was so high that I'd need a stepladder to reach the top.
Still, I was making a dogged effort to get on with my life, to ignore the aching in my heart, and focus on the business, which was doing surprisingly well.
Thanks to Chad's travel blog, there'd been a surge of interest in those eclectic bikes, and Trevor had been doing a bang-up jobof booking them. If not for the persistent tug in my chest, I'd say things were looking up.
Now, I consulted the clipboard and saw that yes, somebody named Tammy had reserved Disco Bike – aka Disco Inferno – for this afternoon.
I was just about to tell her that it was all set and ready to go when she asked, "So where is he? In the back?"
I blinked.He, who? Trevor?
Before I could answer, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out toward the back room. "Hey, Bike Dude! Come on out and give your favorite mom a hug!"
Trevor. Definitely."Oh, gosh. Sorry. He's not here." I winced. "He's probably still at the post office."
She turned to me with a funny little frown. "Why there?"
"Hopefully to pick up some tire tubes…assuming the shipment's not late again." I glanced toward the door. "But I'm sure he'll be back any moment."
With a smile, she rolled her eyes. "That little shit. Do you know I ran all the way from the dock?" She pointed toward her shoes. "Inthese?" She gave a throaty laugh. "Boy, ishegonna hear it."
In spite of my lingering heartache, I couldn't help but smile – a real smile for the first time in days. "Well, don't gotoohard on him. It'smyfault he's gone."
She chortled. "Oh, he'ssogrounded." She glanced around. "Nice shop, by the way."
"Thanks." And then, searching for something to say, I asked, "So how are things at the hospital?" As I said it, I breathed a small sigh of relief that her job wouldn't be threatened by anything to do with me or my shop.
That risk was officially gone.
An article in yesterday's Mackinaw Bugle had revealed that Marcus and Benny Wexler of Bridge and Bay Finance wouldn't be threateninganyoneany time soon.
Turns out, they were white-collar thugs looking to corner some real estate here on the island.Not anymore. Both men were now under state and federal investigations for a wide array of financial crimes, including tax evasion, loan sharking, and real estate fraud.
The way things were looking now, the only thingsthey'dbe cornering were prison cells along with some hefty fines.
But here in my shop, Trevor's mom gave me a perplexed look as if she had no idea what was going on. "What hospital?"
It was my turn to look perplexed. "Youknow…the place where you work?" I tried to think. "In billing, right?"
"Oh, honey," she laughed. "I haven't worked in years."
Okay, now I wasreallyconfused.
Unless…was I reading all of this wrong?
My heart gave a dangerous little flutter as I asked, "So you'renotTrevor's mom?"
