It would have been easier to move her into the Victorian, but Grammy had set her foot down. She would live in her house until the undertaker carted her lifeless carcass away. Her words.
The kettle started to sing and I pulled out the mug she always used, plopped in a teabag, and filled it up to the three quarter mark. Letting it steep, I pulled a sugar-free banana nut muffin out of the freezer and popped it in the microwave to defrost. I added milk and then set the tea and warm muffin on a plate along with her crossword puzzle book and the glasses she was forever misplacing and carted the haul out to her.
“No butter?” Grammy frowned at the offered muffin.
I heaved out a sigh. “You need to cut back.”
She tisked at me but removed the wrapper.
I kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Mom will be by after her date. Call if you need anything.”
“More sugar in this tea,” she hollered an instant before I scooted out the door.
I held the handrail and descended the steps that headed into the carport where Earl, the ugly old rust-bucket diesel, sat dripping oil on the concrete.
Grammy had a few containers of oil in the cabinet. I grabbed one, and then popped the hood, careful to stand far enough back so that my suit wouldn’t get smudged. After adding the oil, I secured the hood, then snagged an extra container to take with me. I tossed it on the floor and then set my heels and shoulder bag on the seat beside me and cranked the old boy up.
Which sounds dirtier than it was.
The ancient engine rumbled to life like Frankenstein’s monster. Within a minute, I backed Earl out of the driveway and headed for the hills.
“Okay, Joey Whitmore, why do you want to be an assistant to a life coach?” I asked myself as I navigated the twisty roads that led away from the center of town. I’d experienced enough job interviews to know that sincerity was more effective than lies that could trip me up.
“Well, I am a people person looking to expand out of her comfort zone,” I said in my best interview voice.
“What would you say are your greatest skills?” faux interviewer Joey asked.
I took a moment for a deliberate pause to make the response sound less rehearsed. “I’m punctual,”— unless I was having car trouble— “organized, and a fast learner.” All of that was true, if not the whole truth.
“Why did you leave your last position?” I asked in my detached interviewer tone.
The best technique for this loaded question. A classic serpentine followed by a bob and weave. “Foodservice isn’t something I am passionate about. I’m looking for a place to shine.”
My gaze cut to the rearview mirror and I nodded at the professional me. Nailed the sucker.
“Do you have any children?” I asked myself and, even knowing it was coming, couldn’t stifle the flinch.
Damn it. That particular question popped up often. I needed to come up with a good way to answer it. To prospective employers, my single status meant my day wouldn’t be interrupted by phone calls from schools or requests to leave early for dance recitals or soccer practice. To me, it always felt like admitting failure. I’d intended to have kids. And a husband. And a gold medal. Those things just weren’t in the cards I’d been dealt though. What I had instead was crap luck. A bum wrist, an ex who probably looked better in a thong than I did, and a penchant for being fired. If you looked up “underachiever” in a dictionary, there would be a duck-faced selfie of me.
The pity party was getting ugly. Time to focus on the road ahead. Literally. Firefly Lane was a couple hundred feet up on the left.
Earl’s left blinker was broken so I rolled the driver’s side window down and stuck my arm out into the chill mountain air. Unnecessary as no one was coming, but the way my luck ran, if I didn’t signal, that would be the moment a cop crested the hill.
The terrain turned steep almost immediately. Earl’s diesel engine rumbled like a locomotive as we chugged ever so slowly uphill. The road narrowed to a single lane which Earl ate up like nobody’s business. I hunched over the wheel, trying to see past the low hanging fir branches that hung even lower with heavy wet snow. The road was pitted with potholes and partially washed out. No signs of utility