* * *
Sleep released me slowly that next morning. I couldn’t remember ever waking so relaxed—that was, until the scenarios from the day before began reclaiming their spots on my worry list. Bolt! I reached my hand out, and that side of the bed was empty. I tossed off the covers and went to my window that overlooked the parking area. He was gone. Worse yet, someone else had claimed my parking spot. Just another agitation to add to the list.
Things got even more depressing as I peeked in on Natalie. She was sprawled, belly down, on her bed, her arm hanging over the edge. I watched her long enough to be sure she was breathing and then backed out. The longer I could put off that confrontation, the better. I peeked at the clock. It was Saturday, so I didn’t open until ten. I still had my car to deal with.
I turned on the shower, fetching clean underthings from my drawer in the bedroom. The water felt good, maybe because for the few minutes you spent beneath the spray, the world couldn’t get to you. I got dressed and pulled a slice of bread from the bag, carefully twisting the bag closed and fastening it with a clothespin so bugs and air couldn’t get to it. I popped the single slice in the toaster and ate it dry. I would save the peanut butter for lunch.
I was really going to have to take a serious look at my finances. Natalie was a constant drain, and business at the studio just wasn’t bringing enough in to nurse her through her various addictions. I’d have to look at finding a second job—maybe at a restaurant. At least there they’d probably feed me.
I checked my wallet and decided I’d better walk to the studio, so I’d need to leave earlier than normal. I checked on my sister one last time and then was making my peanut butter sandwich lunch when there was a knock at the door. I assumed it was probably one of Natalie’s mooching friends and was tempted to ignore it. As it was, I had to leave anyway, so I picked up my purse, my sandwich wrapped in tissue paper, and opened the door.
“Good morning, miss,” began the strange man standing there. “I’ve come on behalf of Mr. Symington. He sends you these with his regards.”
As I stood there with my mouth gaping, he produced two boxes: one rather long and slender and the second more of a shirt-size. I set my things down and took the boxes from him. Puzzled, I looked up at him. “Do I need to sign something?”
“No, miss, not necessary. Have a wonderful day,” he said, and I watched as he disappeared down the stairs.
I took the boxes to the kitchen counter and opened the slender one first. Inside I found one, long-stemmed red rose. There was no card, but I already knew who it was from. I put the ruby petals to my nose and breathed deeply. I felt a little thrill course through me as I remembered the way Bolt had made love to me the night before. The storm, his hard, muscled body, and those lips—god, I missed him and I didn’t even know him.
The second box was beautifully wrapped. I opened it to find a yellow raincoat, a tribute to our lovemaking in the rain. I couldn’t imagine anything more romantic or perfect. I slid into the sleeves and hugged myself, pretending it was him. I laughed. I was behaving like a little girl rather than a mature businesswoman who was going to be late opening her shop if she didn’t quit goofing around.
I laid the jacket on my bed, put the rose in a jar with water on my nightstand, and then picked up the box to throw in the dumpster on my way. Something slid inside, and there was a jingle as it fell out onto the linoleum. I pushed the box out of my view and saw a set of keys with a piece of paper tied to the ring with a bit of curling ribbon.
The slicker is so you don’t get wet with anyone else while I’m gone.I’ll be out of town on business, but my card is in the pocket. Text me so I’ll have your number.The keys belong to the car in your parking spot. Please take care of it for me while I’m gone.It’s the only way I can take care of you.
The keys hit the floor with a hard jingle as I shifted my armload to go look out the window again. Sure enough, the car in my parking place was a dark seafoam green Audi convertible. Was he serious? I suspected the car wasn’t his at all. He’d bought it for me and knew I couldn’t accept that kind of a gift, so he pretended to lend it to me. I couldn’t fall for that. With resolve, I picked up my things again and locked the door behind myself as I headed to work. I got as far as the dumpster and peeked over my shoulder at the Audi. I’d never ridden in a convertible before. It wouldn’t hurt to just look at it.
It was waiting for me, tempting me like a poisoned apple that would forever change my life. I couldn’t even afford insurance on a car like that, much less the gas it would take because I knew I’d be driving all over the state if I had something like that at my disposal. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to open the door and peek inside. I slid my hand into my deep pocket and pulled out the keys. There was a button on the fob, and I pressed it. Setting my things on the gravel, I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. A gentle bell warned me that the door was open. I closed the door and sat there, inhaling the new car scent. The dash wrapped around me like a pair of wings. I fingered the leather gear-shifter and wondered what would show up on the dash display. Naturally, I had to put the key into the ignition to find out, but no one was watching.
Sweet Jesus! It sprang to life and all around me. The cockpit presentation invited inspection. Google Earth lay between the tachometer and the speedometer, which, no big deal, by the way, topped out at one hundred sixty miles per hour. Where could I even drive a car that fast? I cringed as I tapped on the sound system and classical music flooded the cabin. Naturally, I wondered how it would feel to drive such a vehicle. I was late for work, but it made sense that I could maybe drive, just that once, so I wouldn’t be late. Determined to exploit the chance of a lifetime, I adjusted the mirrors, slid the gearshift in the console into reverse, and backed up. The accelerator pedal was responsive, and I so, so wanted to skip work and head out on I-64, which offered mile after mile of almost empty interstate. If I was cautious and avoided the state police post at Frankfort, I might be able to nurse the speed up to at least a hundred—an exhilarating thought. I knew that was pushing it, so I went to work instead. That’s when I realized I’d left my purse, store keys, and peanut butter sandwich sitting on the gravel next to where the car had been parked. Of course, now it was mandatory that I drive a little more, and maybe even a little out of the way, to go and retrieve them.
It was noon before I arrived at the studio. Butch was sitting in the scrub grass by the dumpster out back. “What are you doing?” I asked as I got out of the dream car.
“Where the hell have you been? Out stealing cars?”
“Whoa, Butch, what’s up with the interrogation?”
He walked over to look at the car.
“Don’t touch it!” I barked, and he swung around, surprised. “It’s not mine. It’s just…a loaner, OK?”
“Some loaner. They generally give me an old greasy pickup.”
“Well, well. It just depends on where you get your car fixed, is all,” I justified. I went inside the shop and began turning on lights and the music system. Butch followed me in.
“C’mon, Lilly, where did you get the car?”
“Personal. What are you doing here? You can’t want another tattoo.”
“I do, but I can’t afford it today.”
“There’s a story I can identify with,” I answered, tucking my purse into a drawer. “So?”
“I felt bad about Natalie. I know I was supposed to watch out for her, but damn, Lilly, a fellow has to have a little fun, too, you know.”
I swept past him. “You’re not her babysitter and neither am I,” I proclaimed, even though I knew I was lying to myself. “She’s safe, at home in bed and will probably still be there when I go back after work. So, go on now. Do what you do on Saturdays. I’m going to sit here and hope I get a few customers. Bills need to be paid.” I summarily dismissed him, and his head sagged as he shuffled out the door.
I dragged out the broom and thought of Bolt and the way he’d rescued me from Natalie’s stunt. After I swept, I stood in the front window and noticed the red geraniums in the planter across the street. They reminded me of the red rose waiting for me at home. Everything, it seemed, reminded me of Bolt. The door’s little bell tinkled as a customer walked in. With a sigh, I returned to the drudgery that was my life.