Allie and Bea : A Novel Page 23

  “Of course so fast. Because we need time to figure this out. If we’d wanted him to hurry, he would have been slow.”

  “Definitely your starter,” the man said after Bea had attempted to crank the engine again at his request.

  He was, quite surprisingly, Bea’s age. Maybe even a little older. She would have guessed him to be eighty. Well past retirement age. He was clean shaven with neatly cut sideburns, but his snow-white hair flowed long and tumbled past his collar in the back. Bea felt it unfair that her hair had thinned while this gentleman’s, not so much.

  “So what do we do?” Bea asked him through her open driver’s window.

  “We put in a new starter and get you back out on the road.”

  “Okay, then. I guess that’s what we’ll do.”

  She climbed out of the van and watched him back his tow truck up to her front bumper. She felt the girl standing close to her shoulder, but did not turn to look, or acknowledge her presence. She just stood and watched the man do work that he was by all rights too old to do, and felt the sun bake down on her scalp and the wind toss her hair—such as it was—back and forth across her eyes.

  “When do we tell him we don’t have the cash to pay for this?” Allie whispered into Bea’s ear.

  “We might have the cash. How much of your cash is left?”

  “Less than a hundred dollars. How much do you have?”

  “Not much.”

  “So back to my original question . . .”

  “Let’s get the thing safely into the man’s shop, and then we’ll figure something out.” Bea almost added, “I hope.” She decided against it.

  The man came out into the customer waiting area and found them. They had been sitting for the better part of an hour. Bea had drunk three cups of coffee and regretted the last two. Allie had been chewing on her thumbnail at regular intervals until Bea slapped her hand away.

  The man settled himself onto the couch with them. Maybe to make them feel more comfortable. Maybe his old bones got tired over the course of a day’s work. Hard to imagine they wouldn’t.

  He lifted a baseball cap from his flowing white hair and scratched his head briefly.

  “I had my mechanic go over every inch of your van. Everything that could affect you over a long trip. Some good news, some bad. I wish the balance was better, but what can you do?”

  “Let’s hear the good news anyway,” Bea said. “Even if it isn’t much.”

  “He says there’s a level at which the van has been cared for well. The oil is clean and topped up. All the fluid levels are good.”

  “My husband Herbert taught me a little about that.”

  “Well, you did a good job. The fan belt is frayed, though. It could go at any minute. And the hoses in your cooling system are very bad. Very old. The rubber is mushy and cracked, especially at the elbows. You can’t imagine how much trouble that can cause. One of those babies gives way, you lose all your coolant, the engine overheats, and that could be the end of the old girl.”

  Bea blinked for a moment, a bit taken aback.

  “What old girl?”

  “Your van.”

  “Oh. I see. For a minute there I thought you meant me.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. It was a big sound, a genuine thing, emanating from deep in his chest. It made Bea like him some.

  “I’m Casper,” he said, reaching out a hand for her to shake.

  “Like that little boy ghost who wanted to be everybody’s friend,” Bea said, shaking it. “I’m Bea, and this is my granddaughter, Allie.”

  Casper tipped his baseball cap at the girl. “Young lady,” he said. Then, to Bea, “When I was born there was no such thing as Casper the Friendly Ghost. Not yet. Life was so much simpler back then.”

  “Sorry. You must be tired of hearing that. So, these hoses . . . is that a big, expensive thing?”

  “Oh no. Not at all. Drives mechanics crazy that you can get them for pretty cheap, and it’s quick to put them on, laborwise, but the whole engine can be lost if the owner doesn’t tend to it. So we’ll replace those all right. But there’s another thing, and this’ll set you back more. Those tires you’ve been driving on are downright dangerous.”

  Bea drew her head back in a pantomime of surprise. “That doesn’t sound right. Herbert taught me how to do the penny test on the tread, and the tires passed that test before I left on my trip.”

  “That’s not always the whole story, though. But don’t take my word for it. Come see what I mean.”

  He pulled to his feet and reached an elbow out for Bea. As if Bea should take his arm and be lifted from the couch. Escorted into the shop. Bea wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that. Was he being gallant? Or did he think her incapable of standing up and walking?

  “I’ll do fine,” she said, and rose on her own.

  She followed Casper into the shop area, where her poor disabled van sat next to a nice new BMW, looking sad and old. The girl shuffled along behind. Bea could hear her footsteps. It provided some comfort.

  “The problem is your alignment,” Casper said, speaking up to be heard over some sort of power tool. “Or lack of same. When’s the last time you had a front end alignment?”

  “I don’t know. Herbert never taught me about that.”

  “Do you know when he last had it done?”

  “Well, he’s been dead several years, so none too recently.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Casper opened the passenger door of the van, reached through, and cranked the steering wheel to the left. “Now come look at this.”

  They bent at the waist for a time, staring at one of the front tires.

  “See these scallops on the inside edge of the tread?” He pointed at a couple of spots where the rubber of the tire seemed to have been scooped out. “You’re right down to the belt here. Very dangerous to drive on those. So you need to replace them, and of course we need to do an alignment so you don’t ruin your new ones in short order.”

  “Oh dear. What about the back tires?”

  “Not nearly as bad. But all four of them have cracks on the outside walls. I’d venture a guess and say they’re older in years than mileage, but it works against you either way. You maybe could get away with just two for the front if money is a problem. But I’d replace all four if you possibly can.”

  “Oh, it’s a problem. It’s always a problem.”

  Bea straightened up. Probably too fast. And maybe—just maybe—that was the reason she almost passed out. Or maybe it was the sudden realization that once again her plan had been full of holes all along. Life was too complicated and too dangerous, and there was always something she hadn’t anticipated. Why, she could have killed herself and that poor young girl, just driving along thinking she had everything under control.

  And now she had to tell Casper the truth. That she did not exactly have the ability to pay him. Not without quite a bit of creative problem-solving. Not even for the tow, which was a service already rendered in good faith.

  Or it might have been some combination of causes.

  Whatever the reason, Bea’s vision went white, especially at the edges, and she felt herself lose her balance and pitch to one side. Before she could slam down on the concrete shop floor, Casper was there. Holding her up.

  “Let’s get her back to that couch in the waiting room,” he said to Allie.

  They each took one of her arms. Or tried, anyway. Bea shook them off.

  “I’m fine. My goodness. I’m not an invalid. I can walk. I just stood up too fast. Got a little woozy.”

  Still, they walked close on either side of her, which Bea felt was not such a bad deal. She just didn’t care to admit it.

  Bea had no idea how much later she opened her eyes, or even if she had slept. She was on her back on the couch in Casper’s waiting room, her feet elevated. Allie was sitting on an uncomfortable-looking chair, staring at her.

  “Was I asleep?”

  “Guess so,” the girl said. “It’s been an
hour or two.”

  “Help me up. I have to go tell Casper about our money problem.”

  “I already told him.”

  A pause fell while Bea absorbed that. While she reset her negative anticipation and relaxed back into the couch. She wanted to know how it had gone. At least, part of her did.

  “I had a long talk with the guy,” Allie continued. “He’s pretty nice. He didn’t take it badly at all. Not at all. He said we’d be surprised how many of the people who come through here haven’t figured out how they’re going to pay for their repairs.”

  “I thought everybody had credit cards. Except me.”

  “Mostly, yeah, but then they find out they’re too maxed out to cover the bill.”

  “Hmm,” Bea said. “That actually makes me feel better.”

  “He’s interested in my MacBook. He might take it in trade for part of the repair. He says he has a loaner car that he lets people use sometimes. It’s out right now. But it’s supposed to be back at the end of the day. So maybe tomorrow we can drive up to Eureka and take care of that business with the gold.”

  “Tomorrow? I hate to be here so long. Where will we sleep?”

  “I have no idea. But he can’t get the new starter delivered till tomorrow morning anyway. So we’re here tonight. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Oh,” Bea said. “Oh dear.”

  They stopped talking for quite a long time. Several minutes.

  “Thank you for broaching that difficult topic with him,” Bea said. She had to push the words to get them to leave her mouth. “And finding a way to work it out. That’s quite a load off my mind, I must say.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Another brief silence.

  “I’m trying to be better at letting you know what I like about having you along. Since I obviously communicate it clearly when you’re a pain in the tail.”

  “Thank you,” Allie said. “I appreciate that. What’s Casper the Friendly Ghost?”

  “It was just a silly kids’ cartoon. It was before your time.”

  “Do you like him? The real Casper, I mean.”

  “He seems nice enough.”

  “He likes you. He asked about you a lot.”

  “Nonsense. Don’t be silly.”

  “Why is it silly?”

  “I’m an old woman.”

  “He’s an old man.”

  “I won’t hear any more about it. I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  Truthfully, she wasn’t positive.

  Casper appeared around closing time. At least, his head did. It hovered in the slightly open doorway of the waiting area as though attached to nothing. His face looked hesitant. Tentative, like a man about to give a speech in front of thousands, balancing in the grip of stage fright.

  Before he even opened his mouth, Bea knew the girl had been right. It was a strange sensation, that knowing. Scary and unwanted and buoying and a little bit heady all at the same time.

  “I was wondering if I could have the pleasure of taking two lovely ladies out to dinner,” he said. “Nothing fancy. There’s a place down the street that makes great pizza and chicken wings. And they have the best salad bar in town.”

  Bea had been wondering how they were supposed to get anyplace where food could be purchased. The possibility of going to sleep hungry had played through her mind. Still she hesitated.

  “We’d love to,” Allie said. Then, turning to Bea, “Wouldn’t we?”

  “I think that would be lovely,” Bea said. “Thank you.”

  “We could all get one giant pizza,” Casper said, holding the menu up in front of his face. “How do you feel about pepperoni?”

  “We can’t all get one,” Bea said. “Pepperoni is fine with me, but it’s the girl. You know. Kids today. She doesn’t eat anything that used to be an animal.”

  Then she sipped her iced tea, which she had sweetened just right, and felt suddenly fortunate. They were being fed, and the van was being repaired. It was not the end of the world after all. It was not even the end of the adventure.

  “Or anything that came from an animal,” Allie added. “So I can’t order pizza. It’s all covered with cheese. I have to just eat from the salad bar.”

  “They have vegan cheese on request,” Casper said.

  “You’re kidding me!”

  He reached over to Allie’s menu and pointed it out.

  “Whoa! I love this place!”

  Bea’s gaze flicked up to Casper’s face and they smiled awkwardly, then looked away.

  “Kids,” Bea said.

  “I know what you mean,” he said. “But as kids go, she’s a nice one.”

  “She’ll do,” Bea said, but it sounded affectionate. More so than she had planned. “I must admit it’s nice to have a conversation with someone my own age for a change.”

  “I’m not your age,” Casper said. “I’m quite a bit older, I’m sure.”

  Their waiter arrived, a young man who could not have been much over twenty. Clean cut and smiling.

  “Evening, Casper,” he said.

  “A very good evening, Todd, I’ll tell you that right now. The lady and I will split a large pepperoni and double cheese. And we all want trips to the salad bar. The young lady will order her pizza on her own.”

  “Small with vegan cheese,” Allie piped up, sounding inordinately excited about it. “With mushrooms and onions and bell peppers and tomatoes and olives.”

  They folded up their menus and handed them over.

  “Is it okay that I ordered so many toppings?” Allie asked.

  “The plan was for you to order whatever strikes your fancy,” Casper replied.

  “I don’t think you’re older than me,” Bea said when Todd had gone. “At least, not by much.”

  “I’ll be eighty-one this month.”

  “Very much in the same ballpark.”

  “No way. I can’t believe that.”

  “A lady doesn’t give her exact age. So I’ll just say I’m in my seventies and leave it at that.” She sipped her tea for a moment in silence. “And I didn’t exactly just arrive in them, either.”

  “So you remember eight-track tapes and black-and-white TVs and party lines on your telephone,” Casper said.

  “Oh, goodness yes. I remember when we felt oh so lucky to have them. Remember those little plastic inserts you snapped into your forty-fives so they’d play on the spindle of your phonograph?”

  “As if it were yesterday,” he said.

  Bea looked up to see Allie wrinkling her nose. “I don’t even know what a spindle or a forty-five is. I know what a phonograph is. Never saw one with my own eyes, though. I’ve seen pictures.”

  A silence fell. Bea wanted to extend the pleasant banter. It felt light and a little bit exciting, like flirting. But Casper had slipped into a more serious mood.

  “Look,” he said, and the one word pulled Bea back down. “I know the two of you have been using the van as a camper. That’s easy enough to see from the way it’s set up inside. I can’t let you sleep in it while it’s in the shop, though. It would be a problem with my insurance. I’m really not supposed to allow customers in the shop at all. If absolute worst comes to absolute worst, I can open the shop doors and push it out into the parking lot. But I hope you’ll accept an offer to use my guest room tonight instead.”

  Bea opened her mouth to refuse him, but he cut her off with a hand like a stop sign.

  “Before you answer, I just want you to know I’m a gentleman. You’ve been alive long enough to remember those, too. I know a lady when I see one, and I would never make such an offer in any sort of ungentlemanly way. The guest room has a lock on the door, if that makes you feel better. There’s just one bed. A double. If you two wouldn’t mind sharing.”

  Bea glanced over at the girl, whose eyes begged her to accept. They all but said it out loud, those eyes: “Please, please, please, Bea. A bed!”

  Yes, a bed sounded like a lovely treat. Bea could scarcely remember her last e
xperience with one.

  “Thank you,” she said. “If it’s all very above board, we would love to take you up on that. Only thing is, I have to go by the shop after dinner. I have to feed my cat.”

  Casper’s eyebrows jumped higher. His eyes widened. “You have a cat in there? I never saw one.”

  “I expect she’s keeping a low profile. But the poor thing has to eat. And it would help to pick up a few items from the van. Toothbrush, change of clothes . . . Well, enough about that. I’m hungry. I say we hit that salad bar.”

  “Maybe we should bring the cat with us,” Allie said.

  They were all three sitting in Casper’s car, just outside the shop, in the dark. Bea had been in to leave food for the cat, but Phyllis had not come out and made herself known. But she was all right. Bea had crouched down and peered under the passenger seat and seen the cat’s eyes glowing back at her in the dim light. Phyllis was just upset. She’d get over it. She wasn’t the only one who had to learn to be flexible these days.

  “I honestly think she’s better off in the van,” Bea said. “It’s more familiar. And besides, I couldn’t get her out from under that seat if I tried.”

  “And I’m not such a big cat fan,” Casper chimed in, as though he’d only just found his voice or his right to comment. “I’m allergic. But beyond that, I was just never much of a cat person. More into dogs.”

  “Do you have dogs?” Bea asked, suddenly alarmed at the idea of spending a night in a house with several massive, rough, ill-mannered beasts.

  “No, I work too much. I’d like to have a dog. But maybe when I retire.”

  The comment sat a moment without much reaction. Then Bea burst into laughter. It was a big, hearty laugh, the kind that might not stop simply because you wanted it to. You had to let it play out. It had been gone for longer than Bea could remember, that kind of laughter.

  “Casper, my goodness,” she said when it had rolled through. “You’re eighty-one years old. If you’re not retired by now, when will you ever be?”

  “When I absolutely, positively have no choice in the matter.”

  And of course by then you’ll be too old to take care of a dog, Bea thought, but she didn’t say it. The man’s life was none of her concern. Just as well. She had never entirely trusted men who didn’t like cats.