Page 48 of Ice Darling
Mom stomps over to me, her brows pulled into a harsh V. “Behave.”
I shrug and grab the tongs from the drawer.
“Actually”—Cordelia’s voice sounds louder, which means she probably walked closer to the kitchen—“I think you’ll need to call the police rather than a parts shop.”
My fingers tighten on the tongs.
“The wires that were missing were all concentrated in one section of the car. When I looked into it, I realized that someone grabbed a handful of any wires they could find and just…tugged.” Cordelia makes a grabbing motion. “If your mom hadn’t called me and you tried to start your truck, it would have been bad for the engine.”
My eyes veer straight to Mom.
She bursts into shrill laughter. “I don’t think you need to call thepoliceover such a matter.” Mom grabs her purse and tucks it close to her chest as if it’s hiding a stolen diamond. “Wow. Would you look at the time? I’ll check on Gordie and then head out.”
“Why are you in a rush, Mom?” I ask, eyeing her.
“I forgot I have an appointment.” She rushes up the stairs.
Clipping the raw chicken pieces with the tongs, I set them in the oil and listen to them sizzle. Mom runs back down the stairs a few minutes later, throwing a frazzled “toodles” to us and disappearing out the door.
“How long will my car be down for?” I ask Cordelia.
“I could have had it up and running today if your mom handed over her purse.”
I chuckle. It seems like we both know who’s responsible for this.
Turning the chicken over to the other side, I admit, “I’ll need new parts.”
“We can order them for you. Just come in tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I peer up the stairs. “Why hasn’t Gordie come down yet?” My mind instantly jumping to the worst of conclusions, I grow somber and set the tongs down.
“I’ll go,” Cordelia offers.
My eyes zip to her in surprise.
She lifts one shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug. “If that’s okay with you.”
I think about everything I said to Mom and realize I’m a big, fat hypocrite. Not an inch of me feels uneasy sending her upstairs.
Who cares what the rumors say about her? Maybe she doesn’t like kids, but she likes Gordie, and that’s all that’s important to me.
I nod.
Cordelia heads upstairs, and I finish preparing the chicken. Earlier, Mom asked Gordie to help with the salad, but she hasn’t come down yet. Neither has Cordelia.
Curious, I tiptoe upstairs and silently push my daughter’s bedroom door wider. Inside, Gordie is dressed in her pink overalls, and her hair is tied back in a bandana. She has herpink Barbie car suspended on stacked books and is “working” underneath it.
“Wrench!” Gordie squeaks, holding out a hand.
“Got it.” Cordelia hands her a spoon from the toy kitchen set I bought Gordie for Christmas. “Ma’am, can you help Larry feel better? He’s been coughing real bad and makes this strange, high-pitched noise when he drives. I’m so worried about him.”
For a moment, I wonder who Larry is. Then Cordelia strokes the pink Barbie car’s hood, and it dawns on me that they’re discussing the toy car.
“Don’t worry, lady. I’ll fix Larry up. But you need to keep calm.”
“I’m trying to be, but…it’s been so difficult. I heard you’re the best mechanic in town. If you can’t fix Larry, no one can.”
Gordie squirms from beneath the car and pats Cordelia’s shoulder. “This isn’t looking good. Larry might need new parts.”
