Page 51 of Something Old

“It might not be worth fixing it, seeing how old the van is?”

“Yeah.” He looked relieved that she was the one to comment on the age of her apparently decrepit vehicle, not him.

“How much will finding out what’s wrong with it and whether or not it’s worth fixing cost me?”

Matt brightened visibly. “Oh, normally there’s a small charge for that, yeah, but this one’s on me. Luke’s going to do his Level One, then apprentice with me. This’ll be a good project for him. He’s got a good head for engines already.”

The tips of Luke’s ears turned bright pink, and he wiggled with pride—again very much like a delighted puppy.

Madeline shook her head, smiling. “That doesn’t fool me. You guys are just doing me a huge favor.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Matt shrugged. “You’ve been really nice to my boys here, and what goes around, comes around, right?”

“My boys,” Madeline mused. “That’s what I call them too.”

Matt smiled. “I know. Luke told me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, thank you.”

Zach and Joe, not as interested in car talk as Luke, became distracted by the last remaining cruller in the box. Madeline was surprised it had escaped their notice for this long.

“Dibs!” Joe claimed.

Zach decided putting his friend in a headlock was the best rebuttal.

“Outside, now, go,” Madeline said, laughing but also meaning it, imagining a whole shelf of glassware crashing down around them if they got too carried away.

They stopped roughhousing immediately, slightly shamefaced, and Matt solved the debate by snatching the cruller for himself.

“No fair,” Zach yipped.

Madeline got a timeline from Matt about when she could expect to know more about the van’s chances and saw them to the door. As they lingered on the porch chatting, it occurred to her to ask, “Any of you have mad carpentry or plumbing skills, by any chance?”

“No, sorry,” they all mumbled.

“Too bad—I thought it was worth a try.”

As the guys said their goodbyes and ambled down the stairs, Madeline overheard Matt say to Luke in an almost wondering tone, “I see what you mean. It smells amazing—so homey and clean or something—like the cookies my mom used to make.”

“No, man. It smells like bread,” Zach insisted.

“Nah. It’s definitely lemon and vanilla, like shortbread or pudding or something,” Joe said.

“Well, whatever it is, it’s good, man.”

This, they could all apparently agree with, and there was no further argument.

Madeline smiled to herself as she went back inside. The shop did smell good—and it was nice everyone thought so enough to comment about it. What she couldn’t quite figure out was how everyone seemed to pick out such different scents. It should smell like mint and lemon cleaner. Grant, she knew, picked up similar nuances. What was with everybody else’s noses?

Ah, well. It didn’t matter. Unless someone started picking up notes of mildew or rotten potatoes or something, it was all good.

She’d barely turned the lock in the front door—and hadn’t flicked the lights off yet—when there was the sound of footsteps on the verandah. A glance out the big window had her unlocking again immediately.

“Aisha, Mo! This is a nice surprise.”