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“Hey, Chevy.”
Quinn and Chevy clasped hands, elbows resting on the blue Formica, patting shoulders and murmuring greetings. “Listen, I got Macy’s car out front. Dead battery. We jumped it, but she’s gonna need a new one.”
“Gotcha. Thought you were with Delaney Miller?” He shot Quinn a confused look, one eyebrow arched high enough to raise his backwards ball cap.
“Yeah, I am. Just doing a favor for a friend is all. Actually, he is.” Quinn pointed a thumb at me. “This is my cousin Liam.”
“Ahh,” Chevy said, nodding, as if the universe now made perfect sense. “Lemme take a look, see what battery I need.”
We followed Chevy out front, where he popped the car’s hood and jotted something down on a tiny steno pad he pulled from the pocket of his jeans.
“You needing this back right now?” Chevy glanced over at me.
“I guess not. I can come back later,” I said.
“I’ll have it ready around lunch.”
“Sounds good,” I said, squaring up my shoulders. “We’ll come back this afternoon.”
“Cool.”
Our work at the garage done, Quinn and I hopped back into his truck and headed to the general store, the real task at hand.
“How’s Pops today?” I asked, casting my eyes over at Quinn. His face was neutral, but his lips were a thin, worried line.
“He’s alright. I think Mom’s going to take him over to Atlanta for a more in-depth work-up with a cardiologist. Hospital’s probably going to discharge him tomorrow.”
“That’s good news,” I said, trying to sound reassuring despite the pit in my stomach. My dad died of a heart attack, so this all felt unsettlingly familiar.
“I think so.” Quinn motored down the alley behind the store, pulling his truck into the spot near the delivery door. “This is where I usually park. Leaves more spots for the customers.”
I nodded, mentally taking notes; I guessed General Store 101 had begun.
“I’ll check the schedule, but I think the next delivery is middle of next week. Luckily, we just finished inventory after the holidays, so we don’t need to go through that hell again until mid-spring. I’m thinking Pops will be back by then, so I’m not going to bother teaching you all that.”
Quinn unlocked the brown metal door, cranking it open for me, then flipped the switch on the wall behind us. Bright white lights popped on, spotlighting the same store I remembered. Long beige shelves lined the aisles, filled with all the things you could possibly need: dried goods, canned goods, cosmetics, paper products, medications. You named it, Pops carried it. To my left was the long butcher block counter, the old-fashioned black cash register in the dead center.
“Seriously? Y’all still have that thing?” I pointed at the register.
Quinn shook his head. “Yeah. Ryder and I have tried convincing Pops to go electronic, but he’s having none of it. That’s part of the problem—most of the kids working don’t want to do math. Hell, half of them use a calculator to make change.”
He moved towards the front of the store, spinning the sign from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open.’
“Maybe you can talk him into automating. It would make everything a lot easier,” Quinn said, his voice hopeful.
“Wow.” I blew out a breath, suddenly wondering what I’d gotten myself into. I had no intention of getting in the middle of a McCauliffe war. I was merely here to help the family during a tough time, then I’d be back to my tech projects in California.
Quinn crossed to the register, pulling a massive three-ring binder out of a drawer and hoisting it up on the counter.
“Here’s the little black book.” He chuckled at his own joke, flipping to a tab marked ‘Schedule.’ “Looks like we’re alone until one, when Jolene comes in. She’s here until close at seven.”
He cruised through the binder, showing me the master calendar of deliveries, inventory dates, schedules, payroll, plus any important numbers I might need.
“That’s about it. Ryder will come over and help with payroll later today. Gigi usually makes the payments, but she’s at the hospital.”
“Understood.”
“So, you’ve got this, right?” Quinn narrowed his eyes at me, staring me down hard.
