Page 50 of Make My Heart Malt

“No problem. I’m glad I could help. Even though I was your second choice.” He smirks.

While at Porter’s, I asked Jake to come with me, but he had plans. No one knows if Jake ever actually has plans or if he says he has plans to avoid doing things. Either way, Lach was standing right there, so he became my second option.

“It’s not that I didn’t want you to come. Jake’s just a little more intimidating if things go… awry.”

He tears his gaze from the road to turn toward me. “Hey, I can handle my own.”

“And I don’t doubt that, but Jake has an intimidation factor. Plus, he has a little more muscle than you.”

He chuckles. “Thanks for the boost of confidence.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” I smile brightly.

A short while later, we’re pulling into a desolate driveway out in the middle of nowhere. A giant white farmhouse with various sized buildings scattered across the property comes into view.

Lach slows his truck to a crawl as he peers out the window to scope out the various buildings. “Well, this shall be fun.”

“I’d appreciate a little more enthusiasm because this will be fun. Do you want to get lunch afterward?”

He parks his truck close to the house. “This is worth way more than lunch. Just know you owe me. I’ll figure out the details later.”

“Ugh! Fine.” We both climb out and stroll up the shoveled sidewalk. At the front door, I knock while Lach stands behind me. A few seconds later, a man with white hair and a bushy beard to match greets us. If he doesn’t moonlight as Santa Claus, he really should.

“Hi, are you Jack? I’m Dessa. I called about the penny machine.”

“Yes. I am. Let me grab my coat and I’ll be right out.” He closes the door while Lach and I retreat down the sidewalk. A few seconds later, he emerges wearing a black and gray flannel jacket and a walking cane.

“Thanks so much for letting us come out here,” I say.

“No problem.” His voice is a little weathered and rusty. “You’ll be doing all the work trying to find it, though. As you see, I can’t get around that great anymore. The snow makes it even harder.”

“Of course. I brought a helper. This is Lach.” They shake hands.

Jack gives us the rundown of the various buildings. He opens the garage door and pulls out a shovel, passing it to Lach.

“You’ll need this.” Then he walks past us and down thedriveway.

Lach leans over and whispers, “You owe me. Big time.” He lifts the shovel to rest against his shoulders and trots after Jack.

“How long have you been collecting, Jack?” I ask.

“Close to twenty years. At this point, I don’t even remember what I have anymore.”

“You hear that, Dessa? Twenty years.” Lach’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.

I flash him a wide thank-you-for-helping-me grin.

Jack points off into the distance with his cane. “I suspect it's in one of the medium size buildings. The red one has a really tricky door. You need to wiggle and jerk it at the same time.”

Lach glares at me and mutters, “That one way over there, completely buried under the snow?”

“Yep. That’s the one. That’s the reason for the shovel.”

“You so owe me,” Lach mutters before he steps over the snowbank and trudges through the shin-deep snow. Following his footprints, I embrace the “work smarter, not harder” motto.

I’m praying his memory is as sharp as a tack because it’s cold and I don’t want to spend my afternoon digging through buildings full of junk. When we reach the large metal sliding door, he grips the wooden block handle and slides it halfway across. My eyes widen as soon as the bright light floods in through the opening. I underestimated how much junk a person could cram in a storage building. Every inch of the dirt floor is covered with stuff. Not only that, but it almost reaches the ceiling. This was a stupid idea. Garrett doesn’t need a lucky penny.

Lach turns to me. “Let’s get digging.”

---