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"Maybe, but it's still Mrs. Cust's money, not Chaz's."
"Maybe mommy dearest is pressuring your mom. Or because it will be Chaz's money eventually."
"True. Unless he runs through it all." Erin frowned.
"Wouldn't surprise me. If anyone could, it would be him. He's an idiot." She drew another figure across the cake. “Hey, Erin?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something else going on with your mother. She’s sent a couple of people to talk to me about investing in my business. I pay my loans on time, and I’ve never expressed any interest in having investors, silent or otherwise.” Deb’s shoulders hunched, then she shook them out and looked up at Erin, her brows wrinkled. “I politely send them on their way, but they’re persistent. And a little scary.”
Erin grimaced. “I don’t know what’s going on there, Deb. You know I stay away from Mom’s business as much as possible. But she’s inviting some strange men to her dinner parties, and they make me nervous, too. I’d rather deal with Cust. I can ask her to stop sending them to you.”
“No.” Deb returned to piping. “No, I’ll send her a formal letter. That way, it’s all on record. Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, you should.” Erin patted Deb’s shoulder gently, so she didn’t smear the cake. “You and I have always been there for each other. Don’t hesitate to vent or ask for help. I’ll always do what I can.”
Deb flashed a smile. “Same here. We need to get together for a longer session sometime soon.”
"We do.” Erin sighed. “But for now, I need to get going. My stuff's in the back?"
"Yup, on the cooling rack like usual. See you tomorrow? Maybe I won't be stuck staring at a cake the entire time you're here." Deb piped another figure.
"It would be nice to see your face a little more, but I get it. Got to make dollars when you can. Bye!" Erin headed to the back and grabbed her big box. Carefully loading the box into the trunk, she drove back through town, right at the speed limit. With the north-south main street also being a state highway, it meant Marcus City Police, the County Sheriff and the State Patrol were all looking for speed violations. And they'd love to pull over Smoky.
Rumbling along, Erin arrived at the last light in town. Yes, red! Most people weren't happy about red lights, but this one was Erin's favorite—if she was first in line. When the light turned green, she dropped the hammer. The tires squealed, then caught, pushing her body back into the seat. Grinning, she reached the speed limit and let off the gas. So much fun.
A mile down the road, a horrible thrashing and thwacking came from the engine compartment. Her smile fell off. Turning off the engine, she coasted onto the highway's shoulder, the racket decreasing. She hopped out and opened the hood. As expected, Smoky had broken a fan belt. Noisy and annoying but an easy fix. Erin always kept an extra in the trunk; these old cars were touchy. Opening the trunk, she pawed through the duffle bag holding her tools and spare parts. No belt. Erin slumped. She must have forgotten to replace it last time.
She sighed and pulled out her phone. Hopefully, Kelly’s could bring her one, since she really didn’t want to bother anyone else, especially Mother. She did not want to hear any whining about her job. Not today.
Chapter 4
Car Problems
Ryan snatched the phone on the third ring. “Kelly’s Auto Parts, lowest price always, may I help you?”
“Yes, please. I need a fan belt for a 1968 Chevy Olds/Hurst 442, with the W-45 engine,” a brisk female voice announced over a lot of background noise.
Wow. Year, make and model, and engine type, without being asked. Ryan typed the information into the parts database, and the listing came up. "Do you want the basic one or the better one, ma'am?"
"The better one, and I want two, please."
His day was getting better. A pleasant voice using the word "please." Miracles did happen. "Sure, we've got them." He scribbled the part number on a note pad.
"Charge them to Coffee and Cars, please." A heavy sigh followed. "And is there any chance you can deliver them? Now?"
Blast, a delivery to Erin Moore. "Sure." Ryan's shoulders hunched.
"And... I need them delivered to—oh, this is embarrassing—the side of the highway about a half-a-mile north of town. The car is silver with black stripes. I don't think you can miss it."
"I guess not. Be right there, ma'am." If she needed a rescue, he was on it.
"Don't call me 'ma'am.' It's Erin. Ma'am is my mother." She laughed.
Ryan smiled; her laugh sound exactly the same. "Yes, ma—Erin. I'll try."
"Thanks."
