Page 8 of Missile Tow
Even though my run-in with John was brief, I knew his ex must have been destroyed by the loss of him. Besides being extraordinary to look at, I sensed his soul was equally good ashis appearance. A strong urge to move forward, and my good-natured way of living life, would allow me to forgive them both.
I glanced into the side-view mirror in time to catch John walking away, Evan fifty feet or so ahead of him. Evan never looked back as he entered the doorway to the elevators. I knew his pride had taken a major hit. Losing face to anyone was his worst nightmare, but to me, his ex, that would hit extra hard. The way John dragged his feet and slowly followed made me think he knew he’d suffer too.
I wondered what had happened in the town he came from. A town named Missile. Who had John left behind and why? I knew one thing. I wasabsolutelystopping in Missile.
CHAPTER FIVE: Chip
Sadie Hatfield was royalty in Missile. She’d lived here since the town incorporated and was instrumental in getting representation at the county level. Her civic actions led to fire protection, police involvement from a neighboring town named St. Regis, and regular snow plowing during the winter. She was a diminutive woman with the presence of a giant.
I stared across the counter and into her pale blue eyes. They were alert and still full of life. She dressed, as usual, impeccably. The stole wrapped around her neck was fur.Realfur. She’d mentioned too many times to count that she didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought of her wearing fur. A shock of white hair, piled high and sprayed solid with hairspray, made her look like a giant Q-tip.
“Bertie recommended the tires, Calvin,” she said, dragging a pen over the invoice’s details before signing. “Said they were the best for my car.”
“And she’d be right,” I confirmed.
“I’m not sure I trust Bertie,” she stated, leveling her eyes at me. “What do you think?”
“Bertie knows her stuff, Mrs. Hatfield.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed, still fixed in a staring contest with me. “I could have gone to the Missoula Costco. Costco has really cheap tires over there.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Reallycheapfor sure.”
“Would your grandfather have advised these?”
“Yes, he would’ve. And don’t forget who trained Bertie,” I reminded her.
The mention of Bertie working with Grampa got her riled up. “Bertie always wanted to land him,” she said, shaking her head in disgust. “The whole town thought something was up after your grandmother passed, son. Did you know that?”
“Before my time, ma’am,” I said.
“Not true, son,” she argued. “This was right up until he passed.”
I knew better, but couldn’t resist. “Now, Mrs. Hatfield,” I began. “I also heard it said you carried a flame for Grampa, too.”
She stood upright, lifting her nose as if to look down at me. “My marriage was arranged by my father,” she stated. “Of course, as I’m sure you already know, I had to turn Calvin Sr. down many a time.”
“Bullshit!” Bertie bellowed, walking up behind Mrs. Hatfield. “Your marriage wasn’t arranged; you was traded by your daddy for three head of cattle. Who does that? A pig for three heads a cattle?” she added, cackling like the witch she was acting like.
Mrs. Hatfield scribbled her name on the invoice and handed me a credit card. “You are rude, Bertie Baxley!” she huffed. “I have half a mind to take my business elsewhere.”
“You have half a mind all right, and you’ve been threatening to do that for fifty years, Sadie. Where you gonna go exactly?” Bertie asked, crossing her arms and glaring back at Sadie.
Sadie, never one for a loss of words, was suddenly stumped. She turned back to me, segueing into a completely different topic. “I want you to come to my home for Christmas Eve dinner, Chip,” she said. “I know John left you and you’re all alone. I have someone I want you to meet.”
“Smooth, Sadie,” Bertie grumbled. “Give the kid five minutes to grieve, can ya?”
Sadie turned to face Bertie while reaching across the counter for my hand. “It has been more like a year,” she said. “John left Christmas last year. His folks still haven’t heard from him. Which is awful on its own, and Chip deserved better than anup-and-run-offdumping.”
Bertie, still shaking her head, a frown on her face, repeated herself. “Still smooth, Sadie.”
“Well, he does,” she soothed, caressing my hand. “And I have a special guest coming for the holidays that I want Chip to meet.”
Bertie tilted her head toward me. “This youngin’ ain’t interested in one of your fat granddaughters.”
“Bertie!” I warned, shaking my head, surprised by the hostility.
I knew these two hens had been at each other for decades, but I’d assumed it was all fun and games. Grampa used to wind them both up and then step back for the fireworks show.
