Page 4 of The Charmed Friends of Trove Isle
It wasn’t exactly the perfect time now, either. Not with Rose still in school. But illness didn’t make appointments. Inconvenient or not, Liz’s parents had left Rose in Liz’s care. Liz was an adult after all. And Rose could take care of herself—in theory.
Her mom had also left the bakery under Liz’s care. It was a huge responsibility and a lot of pressure that Liz wasn’t sure she could shoulder. Not that she had a choice in the matter. So here she was, babysitting a teenager and tending a bakery, when all she really wanted to do was disappear behind the lens of her Canon and spend her evenings editing her photographs.
“Is Rosie old enough to drive?” Danette asked.
“According to the law,” Liz said in as cheerful a voice as she could muster. Liz, on the other hand, had her doubts about a sixteen-year-old hormone-ravaged teen girl operating a motor vehicle.
A horn beep-beeped beyond Danette.
Liz blinked the bright-red car into focus. Expelling a breath, becauseyes, she’d been slightly worried that Rose was upside down in a ditch somewhere, she glanced at her watch with a touch of annoyance. Fifteen minutes late. She guessed she should be grateful because, by teenager standards, that was practically early.
“Looks like your ride is here,” Danette said, her head wobbling with each word. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hon. Stop in The Book Whore if you have time. I’m having a sale.” Danette liked to work in her store name as often as she could. For shock effect, Liz suspected.
“I will. Goodnight, Danette.”
“Night, Lizzie.”
The horn honked again. With a sigh that bordered on a growl, Liz collected her purse from below the counter and headed toward the door, her gaze moving to the latest black-and-white photograph that she’d taken of the south isle pier, framed and hanging on the bakery’s wall for sale.
The walls were full of Liz’s monochrome photographs, all for purchase. The money they brought in was good, but not enough to support Liz as a full-time photographer. That would require that Liz be able to take jobs working various functions and celebrations that took place outside of Seagull Street. And that would require that Liz have access to a reliable form of transportation.
A bicycle with an oversized front-hanging wire basket didn’t count.
Liz locked up the shop, cut across the sidewalk, and dipped into the passenger seat of the sporty red car. After pulling her seatbelt across her body, she faced Rose. “Why isn’t your seatbelt buckled?”
Rose’s brown eyes narrowed slightly. While Rose had gotten their mother’s dark brown skin, Liz’s skin tone was lighter like their father’s. It blushed too easily and far too often. Liz had also inherited her father’s mousy brown hair and his nearsightedness. Thus, the rounded glasses she was wearing. “Seriously?” Rose muttered. “We’re just going down the road. Your house is, like, three minutes away.”
“Ten. And accidents happen.” Liz pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Mom and Dad always say—”
“Mom and Dad are in Ecuador. And they left me in sister-jail with you.” Rose jerked the steering wheel and swerved the car onto the street. Andno, she didn’t buckle up first. Liz wasn’t even sure Rose had checked to make sure there wasn’t oncoming traffic before she’d pulled out.
“Put your belt on.” Liz stiffened the way she always did inside a vehicle in motion. “And slow down. The speed limit is forty-five.”
For spite, Rose pressed the gas pedal a little heavier. The little car’s motor roared louder and the speedometer climbed to forty-eight. Forty-nine.
Liz loved her younger sister. She really did, but their parents couldn’t come home soon enough.
Liz turned to look at Rose in the driver’s seat, noticing the glint of something shiny on Rose’s eyebrow. “Is that . . . is that a piercing in your brow?”
Rose glanced over, one side of her mouth quirking upward.
“Eyes on the road!” Liz practically yelled. Once her sister was facing forward, she continued her lecture. “Who told you that you could get your eyebrow pierced?”
“No one,” Rose said with a shrug. “I didn’t ask.” She appeared to press the gas pedal harder, effectively silencing Liz as Liz white-knuckled the door handle.
As the speedometer reached fifty, an oncoming car veered into their lane. Rose screamed, yanked the steering wheel right, and swerved onto the roadside. But not in time to clear the path of the other vehicle. It scraped along the entire driver’s side of their mom’s car, the sound screeching in Liz’s ears.
Rose slammed the brakes and the car jerked to a halt, sending them both lurching forward. Liz’s body jerked to a stop after a couple inches, secured by her seatbelt, and then slammed back against her seat. Rose’s body, however, sprawled across the steering wheel.
The air whooshed out of Liz’s lungs. She stopped breathing for a moment, clutching the side door so hard that her nails were pulling off the flesh at her fingertips. Memories of a night long ago crashed into her mind. Metal screeching and then an eerie silence except for the ringing in Liz’s own ears. Were her ears ringing now or was this a flashback?
Rose peeled herself off the steering wheel, seemingly unfazed and unharmed. “The nerve of that jerk!” she screamed as she slammed her hands against the dash. “That was not my fault! You saw that car come into our lane, Lizzie! Not. My. Fault!”
Liz still didn’t say a word. Maybe she was like one of those animals that died from sheer terror.
“Liz?” Rose poked the side of her arm. “They barely touched us. I mean, the mirror and the paint job are probably jacked, but . . . Liz? Are you okay?”
Liz finally exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Okay, she was still alive. She hadn’t died of fright.
