Page 16 of The Moment He Couldn’t Walk Away

Finch stomped his feet to warm them. He should have worn his boots, not sneakers. It was cold today. Like it was cold the last time you left the house unprepared, you fool.

At least he was wearing his new jacket.

Studying the drive-through coffee hut that had been a fixture in Lyntacky for years, he thought, as he was here, he might as well get a coffee.

“Don’t know about those others, but I need help and knew you had the time,” Klaus Becker said. He was the owner of what the locals believed was the first drive-through in America. As yet, that claim had not been substantiated.

The hut was small, painted with flowers, and had a large neon sign flashing the word “coffee” in red. He’d spent plenty of time driving through here over the years.

You got coffee and awesome food, all with a side of advice whether or not you wanted it.

Leah and Klaus Becker came to Lyntacky from Germany many years ago and stayed. They’d raised their kids and become part of the fabric that made up this quirky town Finch usually loved but lately felt like a really tight sweater.

“Call me Klaus, Finch. I need a hand, and I know you have two spare ones,” the man added in his thick German accent. He had the collar raised on his checked wool jacket, but even though there wasn’t a strand of hair on his head, he wore no hat.

Finch had answered his phone an hour ago because the number said unknown and now wished he hadn’t. Klaus Becker had been on the other end and asked Finch to come and help him with something.

When he found out who had given the man his number, there would be hell to pay, he vowed silently, but he had a hunch who, and he’d be following up on that soon.

Finch had asked Mr. Becker what he was needed for, but the man had cut the call, saying something urgent had come up.

He might be a different person now, and his people skills were sadly lacking, but Finch couldn’t be sure Klaus wasn’t desperate, so he’d come. Yes, many others would have gladly helped him, but Klaus contacted Finch, and since his doctor cleared him for short drives, he’d gotten into his pickup and driven here.

“What’s the criteria for when we get to call you Klaus, just out of curiosity?”

He tapped his nose. “I know when it’s time.”

“And for me that’s now?” Finch said.

“It is.”

“It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Klaus smiled. “So, when can you start?”

“I don’t need to be the town project, Klaus. I’m doing okay, so don’t worry. That, plus, I’ve never really built anything, and it’s winter. Sure you don’t want to wait until spring?”

“I thought you military types were tough,” Klaus said.

“Ex-military, and we are, but I thought it was a good excuse.”

“No time like the present to start a new career, and you get plenty of free coffee and muffins with it.”

“I don’t need to work, Mr.—Klaus. Really, I’m all right, I have plenty of money, and I’m getting on with things.” The only thing you’re getting on with is being moody and sorry for yourself.

The man just studied him, head tilted slightly to the right, like he wasn’t sure what to make of Finch, which made two of them.

“We don’t just let our own get on with things, Finch. We help. So shall we say tomorrow?”

If he was a kid, he’d stomp his foot, but he was a grown-ass adult, damn it, who had led men and been a staff sergeant. He could say no and had been using the word all his life. In fact, his mother often said it was the first one he’d learned.

“Excellent. You just get here when you can,” Klaus said when no sound came out of Finch’s mouth.

“I’m not sure if I can even do the work,” he said, reluctant to admit the weakness. “I have headaches, and my eyes hurt sometimes from the injuries I got during the accident.”

“Then let’s just take it as it comes,” Klaus said, not dissuaded. “You’ll find it more enjoyable working for me than those others,” he added.

“Hey, Mr. Becker and Finch!”