Slow Dance in Purgatory(28)

School had been called off, and Maggie considered rolling over and grabbing a few extra Z’s. Unfortunately, Aunt Irene had other plans. The Cadillac was acting up, and she had some shopping to do. Maggie was informed she was coming along.

An hour later they were creeping down Main Street with a few other cars, the windshield wipers frantically sweeping rain from the Caddie’s broad window. The Cadillac chugged and lurched a little, and Irene moaned in response.

“Hang in there, Belle,” Aunt Irene worried, patting the dash.

“Belle?” Maggie tried not to laugh.

“That’s what I call her because she’s the ‘Belle’ of the ball. Always has been, always will be.” Irene patted the dash again, and the Cadillac sputtered sickly. “Not much further, Belle. Gene’s is right around the corner!” Irene urged the car down one more block and made a shaky right into the parking lot of an old red brick building with two grey service bays. A big sign featured a pretty blond hanging out the window of a classic car in aquamarine blue. Big bubble letters spelled out ‘Gene’s Auto Body’ across the bottom. A few cars waited patiently for their owners, and a Neon Chevrolet sign buzzed and flickered in the front window. The power must be back on. This had to be the same place Johnny had worked once upon a time, but surely Gene wasn’t still around.

“This is where Johnny worked?” Maggie asked out loud, and then wished she could take it back.

Aunt Irene looked at her blankly.

“Uh, didn’t Gus say that Johnny stole a gun out of a car when he was working at Gene’s?” Maggie couldn’t remember if he had, but she hoped Aunt Irene didn’t remember either.

“Johnny who, dear?” Irene was completely lost.

“Johnny Kinross. Remember?”

“Oh, my! Maggie… you’re not still thinking about that poor boy are you?”

Unfortunately, Maggie thought to herself, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. She just shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant.

Irene nodded her head replying, “It’s the same place, but Gene’s son is the owner now. His name is Gene too, but every one calls him Harvey.”

Maggie didn’t try to puzzle that one out. It was Texas. In Texas nicknames usually came with a story, and the stories were either long or long forgotten.

Gene, a.k.a Harvey, was a curly haired man with a bulging belly and a smiley face. His striped work shirt and navy blue Dickeys were grease stained, and his hands were completely black, but he greeted Aunt Irene with a gentlemanly nod and smiled politely as Irene introduced Maggie.

“I am completely backed up today, Mrs. Carlton. Can it hold over the weekend? I can have Rick follow you home to make sure you make it okay, and we’ll come pick it up on Monday,” Harvey volunteered pleasantly. “I’m guessing it’s the transmission, from what you’re telling me. I warned you it might go when I gave her a check up last month.”

Irene nodded forlornly. Maggie could only guess at what she was thinking, but it most likely had a big dollar sign attached to it. Irene had taken religious care of her ‘Belle,’but parts wore out, and it cost money when they did. Money was something Aunt Irene didn’t have.

“That will be fine, Harvey. I have a convention in Galveston for the Ladies Historical Society this weekend. I’m the secretary of the North East region, you know,” Irene perked up as she talked, preening just a little. “The city has chartered us a van so I won’t be driving. Maggie and I will make do until Monday just fine.”

Maggie had forgotten about the convention. Aunt Irene would leave that afternoon and not be back until Sunday evening. Maggie was staying home all alone. Originally, the time alone had not appealed to her much at all. With Irene gone and Malia Jasper back in town, Gus and Shad wouldn’t even be coming for Sunday dinner, and she had dreaded the long weekend with nothing but bad television and homework to occupy her time. But that was before. An idea began to take shape, and Maggie tamped down on her rising excitement, careful not to alert Aunt Irene that she had a plan brewing.

The old pink car made it to the grocery and home again with a few hiccups and burps, and Irene swung the Cadillac into the attached garage with a heavy sigh.

“Well, hopefully it won’t take much to get her purring again.” Aunt Irene smiled at Maggie but the furrow between her blue eyes was more pronounced.

Irene had already packed her bags, and by two o’clock a passel of Honeyville’s most distinguished old ladies were outside the house tooting the horn and clucking like hens as Irene climbed in and blew a kiss to her niece. Maggie waved her off and watched the van lumber away. She had two whole days and no one to account to.

She paused to check her reflection in the mirror and considered changing, but her faded jeans and pink, long-sleeved, fitted T and sneakers were probably appropriate for the work ahead. Pulling her long hair to the side, she braided it over one shoulder and applied some cherry lip gloss. Her reflection looked pretty good, even blurry, and she considered leaving her glasses behind. When she had pulled them out of her pocket after leaving the library she had been stunned to see the crack was no longer there. Had it just been a scratch? Had Johnny simply rubbed it off? Maggie propped her glasses on her nose and sighed gustily. She could take them off when she got to the school, but vanity was dangerous, and she didn’t want to end up running over someone on the way because she was too proud to wear her glasses.