“He was sitting there waiting for me.”
“Not exactly. He does that stretch of road sometimes, helps stranded drivers for extra money. This morning he called and said he’d seen your tire go and recognized you.”
Margaret stood up so quickly the chair hit the wall behind her.
Kate reached for her keys. “I’m coming with you.”
“Give me one
minute alone with him first,” Margaret said. “Just the first minute.”
Kate looked at her for a long moment. Then she wrote down the address of the lumberyard and said: “Bring him home.”
Source: Unsplash
The Lumberyard on the Mill Creek Road, and What Happened When She Put the Cold Bottle in His Hand
The lumberyard was a working place — the kind that smells of fresh-cut pine and engine oil, with stacks of lumber organized along a gravel yard and a small office in a corrugated metal building at one end.
