Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“Yep. What’s wrong with it?” she asks.
“It’s overheating. What do you think it could be?” Nellie’s been around the shop ever since I brought her home from the hospital. This year, though, she’s taken to asking more questions. Doing the smaller stuff like loosening bolts to drain the oil no longer suffices her curiosity.
“The gasket thing or the front thing that starts with an R?”
“Radiator. That’d be my guess, too. I’ll do a pressure test on it and look over the rest. Just gotta do something real quick.”
“Can I help?” She starts to put the marker down she was working with, waiting for my response.
“Of course. I’m going to let Sable know what we’re doing, and then we’ll get started.” I pull my phone out, then look from Nellie to my phone.
“I need my coveralls.” Another addition in the shop is her having gear of her own, hat included to keep the nastiness out of her hair.
“That you do.” I shoot her a smile, she gives me the exact replica of mine back, and I go about sending a text to Sable.
Me: I’ve got your car on the lift. Give me about an hour, maybe two, and I’ll let you know what I find.
I’m about to place it on top of the toolbox when it starts vibrating, alerting me to a message.
Sable: You really don’t have to work on it today. You mentioned it’d be tomorrow before you had time. I really don’t want to impose, and it’s not like I need it with a desperation.
Me: I have some time, and it won’t take long.
I bite my tongue about her walking late at night and not liking the idea that she could potentially do it again tonight. The only plus side is that, with it being Sunday, everywhere closes early, even the bars and definitely the restaurants.
Sable: Thank you. I truly appreciate it.
“I’m ready!” Nellie makes her entrance, hands on her hips, wearing blue coveralls, a black hat, and a pair of boots.
“Let’s get to it.” I drop my phone on the toolbox, grab the pressure tester kit, and we get to work.
8
Sable
I’m sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine and slight breeze while keeping the bright orb in the atmosphere from beating down on my skin, courtesy of the wrap-around porch the bed and breakfast boasts. The full ferns hanging here and there, the oversized furniture, small tables, and the swing make it soft and cozy.
The cup of coffee, sketch book, and pencils are precariously placed in a certain position while I sway back and forth. I chose the swing, naturally, but that also meant losing a table to put my things on. It’s worth it, though. I’m also able to soak in the occasional passerby and atmosphere of Whispering Oaks. When you come a busy city, this is a change of pace, a good one at that.
I place my work down beside my thigh. The hot coffee is calling my name, and I’ve yet to take the first sip of my second cup. The first one nearly burnt my tongue, since I’m not used to the old school-style pot of coffee. Sure, those pod appliances have a hotter setting, but nothing compared to what I nearly sputtered out this morning when the hot liquid hit my tongue.
The flavor bursts with my first swallow and has my eyes closing. I try to really lean into a slower pace of life, knowing this is the calm before the storm. Tomorrow, I’ll have to be up and out the door early and really have to work. There won’t be any lazing around in bed, roaming the floors of this beautiful historic building, or talking to the innkeepers about how they became owners. Gus’ family owned the home from the time it was built, it’s been handed down through the generations. We also got to the sad part where it’ll more than likely end with him and his wife, as they’re the last in line. She couldn’t have children, and adopting never happened for them, either. It looked like from their combined facial expressions that both are beyond worried about what could happen and what the historic society will choose to do with it down the road.
A slight buzzing noise interrupts my heavy thoughts, wondering what I could possibly do, if anything, to help ease the burden on their shoulders. Don’t even think about it, Sable Montero. You can’t fix everything and everyone.
I glance at the display, figuring it would be my brother, ready to get an earful about what I’m sure will be him seeing me on the tracking app. The damn thing can track the pace at which you’re going and will show you the miles per hour in a car, and it also shoes when you’re walking. Apparently, luck is on my side because it isn’t an unknown number. It is someone I didn’t expect to hear from after the text he sent earlier today.