"He sounds just like his mother. I heard about him moving out. And he's working at the grocery store, is it?"
"Yep." I nodded. "He looks really stupid in that little apron he's got to wear. But that hasn't stopped Abby Eggrow from giving him the goo-goo eyes."
"Eggrow? You mean the principal's girl?" Again, I nodded. "She's the older one." Here's where I should pause and say I never gossip...until I hit Aunt Kay's company. There's just something confidential about being around her that makes me want to spill every piece of information I know.
"He's been dating her for a few months now," I went on.
"Isn't she still in school?"
"She's a senior this year. Next year, she's going to Paulbrook for a pre-med degree. She's going to work her way up into being a doctor. The principal and his wife won't shut up about how proud of her they are. She'll be the first doctor in the family."
Aunt Kay didn't seem all that impressed. "And how is it she fell into Martin's company?"
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"Well, Abby's been working at the grocery store as well. Her uncle, John Getty, gave her a job there. I guess she's going to rent some apartment off campus next semester and she wanted some money to buy furniture and that sort of stuff for it."
"I suppose her parents will be paying for her education and the apartment, then?"
I rolled my eyes. "Of course."
"I see." Aunt Kay looked down her nose at me. She disapproved of parents paying their children's way through college. She said that at age eighteen, the child was an adult and should fend for him-or herself, as she had done. And look at her, master's degree in tow, paid for by her own sweat and toil.
I knew Aunt Kay was getting ready to spill out this precise speech—about a child needing to work for his or her future, or how this was the exact thing that made our social structure so weak: children who were pampered right up into their adulthood. Blah, blah, blah. I was even braced for the speech. But Mom breezed in the front door, bearing her own gift and saving me.
Chigger quit sniffing my pant leg and dashed toward Mom. But her gift didn't smell as appetizing as mine, so the dog returned to me, whining. Mom had a new winter coat in the box she carried. Aunt Kay went to relieve her of the present before pulling her into a hug. When Aunt Kay stepped back, she eyed Mom's hair critically.
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"Georgia missed a spot," she said in a snobbish tone. She dabbed at Mom's perfectly groomed head of hair and said, "I see a patch of gray."
Mom laughed good-naturedly and swatted Aunt Kay's hand away. "It's supposed to make me look distinguished."
"It makes you look old, dear."
I laughed behind my hand and quickly wiped the smirk off my face when Mom glared in my direction. That's when I decided it was time for me to leave. I hugged Aunt Kay again and she thanked me for the present. She said to thank Marty too, since it seemed I was the only member of the family who had any kind of contact with him.
"I'm sure he'll make it for Thanksgiving dinner," I heard Mom saying as I escaped out the front door. Mother would make excuses for him, of course. I didn't know why. She had no reason to lie to Aunt Kay. But she had a habit of trying to make us look perfect to everyone, even to other members of the family. I wanted to tell her she didn't have to do that with Aunt Kay, but it wouldn't have made a difference. My mother would always try to hide any imperfection she possibly could. I was glad to be outside. I hated to sit by and listen to those two women gossip. I didn't mind talking to them separately, but together it was horror. Their continuous flow of chatter could give a person a headache. I skipped down the front steps, my thoughts returning to my own business as I walked back home. A car passed. I didn't recognize it. In a town the size of Stillburrow, everyone knew what everyone else drove and being the daughter of the only mechanic in town, I had unique knowledge of most of 110
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Stillburrow's automobiles. But I was too busy thinking about Marty and his life to wonder about the new car or watch whose drive it pulled into. I was thinking I might mosey down to Getty's General Store and pester my brother for a while and make sure he had the latest edition of my paper. I turned at the end of the front walk and followed the footpath toward the store. I'd just made it to the row of bushes that bordered the neighbor's yard when I heard the call.
"Carrie!"
I stopped, a little disoriented at hearing my name in this section of town. The call had come from across the street. And guess who was stepping out of the new car that had come to a stop in Carter's circle drive? Yep. It was none other than the banker's son himself.
Luke looked both ways and then jogged across the empty gravel street toward me. His eyes were a shiny blue, as if the chrome of his new bumper was reflected in them. And he was grinning, his dimple pitted as deep as it could go. His dark hair was a little windblown, like he might've been driving with the windows down. The sight made me catch my breath. Every time I looked at him, it was like seeing him for the first time. I was always struck with a fresh wave of awe. But I managed to glance around him and peer at the Mustang. "So you finally got a new car, huh?" It was a shocking white, waxed and shining so bright I almost had to wince to stare at it. Two black racing stripes ran up the middle of the hood and roof and back down over the trunk. It looked like he'd just driven it off a new car lot. 111
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There were fancy chrome spokes mounted in the wheels and the windows were tinted. It was a perfect fit for Luke Carter.
"Yeah, Dad gave me a loan at the bank." He seemed a little distracted and took my arm to pull me toward the bushes.
I could still see the car over his shoulder. "How old is it?"
"Two years." Luke glanced up and down the street to make sure no one was around. He had me tucked into a corner of the bushes so that if anyone happened by, we wouldn't be noticed.
"It runs pretty good, then?"
"Uh-huh," he said impatiently. "Did you hear anything about the poem today?"
I glanced up at him. He was as eager for news as I'd expected him to be. It took everything for me not to rub my hands together and grin. "Yes, I did," I said, and my gaze slid back to his ride. "How big's the engine?" He muttered something and frowned. "Heck if I know. It's a car, OK?"
My mouth fell open. "It's a car? Is that all you can say about it? It's your car, Luke. Aren't you excited you just got a new car?"
"Yes." But he didn't sound excited. He sounded frustrated.
"But I already showed it off to my friends. What I wanted to talk to you about was—"
"How fast will it go?"
"Carrie." He clenched his teeth. "Did anyone say anything to you about my poem yet?"
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My eyebrows rose as if I were in shock. "So that's why you came to talk to me?" I sniffed. "I should've known that's all you'd want from me."
Luke sighed. He glanced back to his car, resigned. "I don't know how fast it'll go. I just got it, remember?" He looked back at me like he expected me to spill my guts now. Instead, I grabbed his hand and tugged. "Then let's find out."