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If it Ain't Broke - Break It

Drew was halfway under Kelly’s car when he heard the crunch of tires on gravel. Pausing, he strained his ears and slowly emerged from underneath the chassis, blinking in abject astonishment as a white SUV came to a gentle stop a few feet away from Bryce’s Jeep. His brother had obviously rented it for the weekend so he didn’t have to punish his Z4 with its low suspension over the dirt road leading to the lakehouse.

Drew dropped the spanner he’d been holding, hurriedly getting to his feet and dusting himself off as the driver door opened a crack.

There had been voices inside, but they ceased the moment he took a wary step forward.

“Can I help you?” he called out, failing to get a shiver of panic from his voice.

“Uh… hi.” The door opened the rest of the way, and a balding man came into view, squinting good-naturedly toward Drew. “Is this lot 15A?”

Drew slapped his hands against his thighs and gave a slow nod.

“Oh good!” The man twisted to the side and beckoned someone through the open car door. “We’re here, honey.”

“I’m sorry—” Drew stepped forward, holding out his hand “—this is private property.”

The man gave him a confused frown. “Oh. Yes, well, I realize that.” He laughed. “That’s kind of the point, right?”

Drew put his hands on his hips, his lips parting as the passenger door opened and a woman alighted from the SUV’s steps.

“Goodness, it’s absolutely breathtaking.”

“Listen, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Drew said, glancing behind him at the two windows peeking through the pines. “I mean, I don’t know why—”

“Is Claire inside?” the woman asked, her voice now wary. She glanced at Drew, flickering eyes taking in his greasy hands, the tools by Kelly’s car. “This is 15A, right?”

“He said it was, Greta.” The man flashed his wife an irritated glance before stepping forward and holding out his hand. “You must be the owner. We’re absolutely thrilled about this place, I’ll tell you. Is Claire still on her way?”

“Claire?” Drew stared from the man to his wife. “As in Claire Hodgesons?”

“That’s her!” Greta tapped the side of the SUV as she came around. “Lordy, for a moment I thought we were at the wrong place.”

“You are at the wrong place,” Drew said, holding up his hand when the woman took another step. “This property isn’t on the market anymore. Didn’t Claire tell you?”

“What?” Greta’s husband gave his wife a quick glance. “We spoke with her on Wednesday. She said she had an open house this weekend, we could just stop by anytime.”

“An open house?” Drew spluttered and then shook his head violently. He stooped to pick up a rag and began furiously wiping his hands on it. All it seemed to do was spread the grease more evenly over his fingers, though. “Well, she fucked up. I told her Thursday already to take the place off the market. She—” he waved at the astonished couple “—she evidently should have canceled with you. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave.”

“You must be joking,” Greta said, her face scrunching up into what could have been tears or furious rage. “We drove all the way out here. Four hours, it took us.”

“And probably another four hours back, if you don’t get lost,” Drew snapped. “Now please, if you don’t mind? You’re trespassing.”

“Trespassing?” Greta’s husband muttered with disgust as he turned around and jerked open his car door. “Unbelievable.”

Drew gave them a small wave. “Have a nice day now.”

“Can you believe this?” Greta said as she climbed back into the SUV. “Are you sure she didn’t phone, Len? I mean—”

The rest was cut off, both by the roar of the SUV’s engine and Greta’s door slamming shut. They reversed in a sharp arc and spat gravel from under their tires as they sped off down the drive.

His face slid into a deep scowl as he plucked out his phone.

No signal. His lips twitched. He spent a few minutes typing out a heated text message — all in caps — and then pressed send.

It gave him an error of course. He reined himself in seconds before dashing the phone to pieces on the drive and slid it back into his pocket. He glanced back at the lakehouse, straining to hear anything. It would be too far to hear voices — possibly even shouts — but he would hear if they tried the front door.

There was nothing.

Hadn’t they heard the SUV pulling away? The slam of the car door?

And if they had, why the fuck weren’t they investigating?

A sullen anger weighed on his shoulders then. What the hell were they doing in there? And why the hell hadn’t Kelly come to see how far he was with her car yet?

Giving his hands another furious wipe with the rag, he sat down, rolled onto his back, and disappeared under the car.

It was taking longer to fix the thing he’d broken than it had taken to break it in the first place.

Then again, wasn’t that always the case with cars?