Roadside Assistance (11 page)

My dad shook his head. “No. Are they hiring?”

“Maybe.” Zander crossed his arms. “The assistant manager just quit and moved out to California, so Jack may be looking for someone.”

“Management might be easier for you than starting over again with tools,” I said, lifting my bag onto my shoulder. “That’s a good point.” My dad nodded. “I should ask for Jack?”

“Yeah. Tell him I sent you.” Zander tapped the bumper. “He’s an old friend of my grandpa’s. My family has known him for years. In fact, I work for him on Saturdays.” He grinned. “I used to work there during the week, but my dad changed the rules last year due to my grades.”

I raised my eyebrows. So Zander wasn’t a wonder kid like Whitney.
He does have to study or, rather,
should
study.

“Thanks for the tip.” My dad slapped Zander’s shoulder. “I’ll go by there tomorrow. I’m anxious to get a job and get us back on our feet. But in the meantime I better finish the tune-up. I picked up some belts while I was out earlier.”

“Do you need help?” Zander asked.

“Oh, no, thanks. I can handle it. But thank you for your assistance.” He nodded toward Zander’s garage. “How’s it going with the Dodge?”

Shaking his head, Zander frowned. “Slowly.”

“You’d better lock up your tools and your garage really well or you might come in one day and find your crankshaft replaced.” He pointed at me. “She fixed a project while I was gone for the weekend once. She’s a sneaky one.”

My cheeks blazed again. “Dad!”

“Oh, I doubt she’ll touch my project,” Zander said, his grin wide. “I hear she only works on Chevys. Right, Chevy Girl?”

My dad guffawed, and I grimaced. I didn’t enjoy being the butt of their jokes.

“I better start on my homework,” I said. “Call me if you need me, Dad.”

“I think I can handle some belts.” My dad opened the door to the backseat and grabbed a bag from AutoMart.

I started back toward the house, and Zander fell in step with me.

“Your dad’s cool,” he said.

“Yeah, he is.” I nodded. “He’s an amazing mechanic and auto body technician too.”

“He must be a good teacher, huh?”

“He taught me everything I know.”

“What kind of a car did you work on when your dad was gone?” he asked.

“It was nothing. Just an old project that was sitting around.” It had been more than that, actually, but I didn’t want to talk about it. We reached the deck stairs, and I turned to him. “Thanks for your help with the truck.”

“No problemo,” Zander said with a smile.

“And thanks for the shop suggestion.” I gripped the strap on my bag. “Dad’s been stressed about finding a job.”

“I’m happy to help. See you tomorrow.” He gave me a mock salute before starting toward the gate.

I watched him disappear into the garage and I smiled. I was actually becoming friends with Zander Stewart.

chapter seven

T
he following afternoon, I stepped through the back door and stopped dead in my tracks when I found Zander leaning on the island, talking to my dad. They both turned and greeted me, all smiles. I was speechless for a moment, stunned by the scene.

“Guess what, Baby Doll,” my dad said, rushing over to me. “I got a job, thanks to Zander!” He crushed me in one of his bear hugs, and I fought for air to breathe.

“I didn’t do anything,” Zander said, his hand curled around a can of Coke. “It was your experience and résumé that got you the job.”

“Not true.” Dad waved him off. “It’s not what you know, but
who
you know.”

Zander shrugged and took a swig of soda.

I dropped my bag on a kitchen chair and grabbed a pear from the fruit bowl in the center of the table. “So what will you be doing?”

“Assistant Manager.” Dad looked energized, and it warmed my heart. He was genuinely thrilled. “I start tomorrow.” He sat in a chair at the table.

I leaned against the counter on the other side of the island from Zander. “So that means you can order Zander around on Saturdays?”

Zander laughed. “Yup. You’ll run the show on Saturdays. Jack likes to take Saturdays off.”

“You’d better watch out,” I said, pointing the pear at him. “Dad runs a tight ship.”

Zander held his hands up. “You know you can count on me. After all, I’m Mr. Mopar.”

I laughed and bit into the pear. He was adorable, and I was doomed. I was developing a crush on the guy. Not good at all.

“Where’s Whitney?” my dad asked, swiping an apple from the bowl.

“She has some cheerleading thing,” I said. “She’ll be home around suppertime.”

“Did Chelsea bring you home?” Dad asked.

I shook my head. “She has some theater meeting.”

“She acts?” Zander asked, tilting his head in question.

“I’d wondered the same thing. She does costumes, makeup, and hair.” I grabbed a paper towel and wiped my mouth. “She’s like head of the costume team or committee or whatever, and she’s really talented. Did you know she makes her clothes? They’re awesome.”

“Wow.” Zander looked impressed.

I suddenly noticed it was really easy to talk to him. He was interested in what I had to say, and he really listened to me. I felt comfortable with him — like I could really be myself. And it felt good.

“So you took the bus?” Zander asked.

I nodded, taking another bite of the pear.

“There’s no reason to take the bus,” Zander said. “I drive to the same destination. There’s plenty of room in my Jeep, and it’s a more pleasant ride.”

I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I ignore the freshmen and spitballs.”

“Freshmen and spitballs?” my dad asked, his eyebrows arched.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told Dad and then looked at Zander. “The bus is okay. I don’t mind. It builds character.”

“Don’t be silly.” Zander lifted the can of Coke toward his mouth. “We’re neighbors. We can ride together.”

I hesitated. Deep down I wanted to ride with him, but there was a problem: If I drove home with him, then the crush would turn into something much deeper, and I was afraid of having to nurse another broken heart.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Zander shook his soda can, indicating that it was empty. I snatched it from him and tossed it into the recycling bin under the sink.

“Thanks for the drink,” Zander said. “I better head back home.”

“Would you like to join us for supper?” my dad said. “I’m going to make tacos to celebrate my new job.”

“Thanks, but my mom’s making steak tonight.” Zander started for the door. “I’ll take a rain check, though.”

“You’d rather have steak than tacos, huh?” My dad chuckled. “I’m offended.”

“Sorry, but my mom’s steak is out of this world.” Zander gripped the doorknob. “Thanks again.”

“No, thank you,” Dad said. “You’re a real lifesaver. You helped fix my truck and got me a job. I owe you.”

“Don’t be silly. That’s what neighbors are for.” Zander pushed the door open. “See you Saturday, Brad.” He looked at me. “See you at school.” Then he slipped through the door.

“Thanks again,” my dad called after him, a grin wide on his face.

“I’ll be right back.” Without thinking it through, I tossed the pear core into the trash and rushed through the door, hitting the deck just as Zander started down the path toward the gate. “Wait,” I called, leaning on the railing.

He turned around, his expression curious. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t get to thank you,” I said. “What you did today, you know, helping my dad get the job — “ I stammered, searching for the right words. “That was a huge deal. He’s smiling more than I’ve seen him smile in a really long time. What I want to say is thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“See you in school,” I said.

He grinned, revealing his dimple. “Absolutely. Have a good one.”

I slipped back through the door and sat across from my dad at the table. “I’m really happy for you,” I said.

“Thanks.” He reached over and touched my hands. “Things are going to look up for us. It’ll take some time, but we’ll get there.”

I gnawed my bottom lip as a plan formed in my head. “What if I got a job there too, Dad? I could work a few hours each day and sock all of the money away to pay for groceries or something when we move out. What do you think? Would that help us?”

“That’s sweet, but you need to worry about school and leave working and paying bills to me.” He gave me a condescending smile as if I were the cutest little girl on the planet, and it irritated me.

I glowered. “I can handle it, Dad. I used to work for you, remember?”

He shook his head. “That was different.”

“How was it different?”

He frowned, and I knew what was coming. He was going to bring Mom into it, and it ticked me off even more.

“Your mom was still here, and we didn’t have the pressures we have now.” His voice was soft, as if mentioning her really hurt his heart. “Mom kept it together. She made sure your
homework was done and you were getting enough sleep. I can’t keep it all together like she did.”

“I can handle it, Dad.” I tapped my finger on the table for emphasis. “I’m stronger than you think. I can balance work and school. I don’t get straight As like Whitney, but I get by. I could work one night during the week and then on Saturdays like Zander does and make enough money to help us find a place, Dad.”

Dad wrapped his apple core in a napkin. “Emily, it’s my job to support us, not yours.”

“Why can’t I help? I’m almost seventeen. I’m not a kid anymore.”

He pushed his chair back and crossed the kitchen. “It’s your job to go to school. You need to get good grades so you can get a scholarship to a great college. You know there’s no money for you to go to college otherwise. Your mom and I blew through all of our savings when she got sick.” Turning away from me, he threw out the core and then began searching through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out pots and utensils as he looked.

“That’s not an answer.” I leaned over the island, trying to make eye contact and challenge him, but he continued his search for cooking supplies. “I want to help us, Dad. I’m old enough to hold down a job. I’ll still get Bs.”

“This conversation is over, Emily Claire,” my dad snapped.

“Drop it.”

“Why?” I smacked my hand on the counter. “Don’t you want to have your own house and your own garage again? Don’t you want to be able to open the drawer to your toolbox? Or even find a simple frying pan without having to open every single cabinet around here?” I jammed my finger into my chest. “I do! I want my own house with my own bathroom. I want to be able to go out to the garage and tinker at night so I can lose myself in a project and finally clear my head.”

He blew out a frustrated sigh, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “Don’t you remember what I told you about how lucky we are to be here? Chuck and Darlene are doing more than I could ever expect. You need to just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and suck it up until we can move out. It’s going to be awhile, a long while, so just make the best of it.”

I shook my head, anger and hurt surging through me. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I’m simply trying to help.” I opened the cabinet next to him and pulled out the frying pan, slamming it onto the counter.

“You can help by doing the best you can in school and keeping a good attitude.” He pulled a package of chopped meat from the refrigerator and dumped it into the pan. He turned on the flame and soon the meat started to sizzle. Fetching a bag of tomatoes and lettuce from the drawer, he dropped them onto the counter with a deep sigh. “Here. Grab a bowl and knife and start chopping. Darlene should be home soon, and I told her we’d take care of everything. She’s done so much for us already. It’s time we started giving back.”

I bit back the words on the tip of my tongue and followed orders. As I chopped, I stewed on the accusations he’d thrown at me. I didn’t have a bad attitude or a chip on my shoulder. I just wanted life to be back to normal. I wanted Dad and me to have our own place. I didn’t want to be a part of the Richards family, living under the shadow of their success, happiness, all-around perfection … and wholeness.

When I sat down to supper with my dad, Logan, Uncle Chuck, and Aunt Darlene, the sting from my dad’s words were still raw in my heart. I kept my eyes focused on my tacos, thankful when my dad chatted on about his new job, followed by Darlene’s cross-examination of Logan’s day.

I was finishing up my second taco when Whitney burst through the door and flopped down into the seat next to me.
She bowed her head in prayer and then spread her napkin across her lap.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, filling a taco shell with meat and cheese. “We had a captain’s meeting after practice and it went a little long.”

“How was your day, dear?” Darlene asked.

“Good.” Whitney took a bite of taco and, as was becoming her routine, moaned and exclaimed, “Yum! Great job, Mom.”

“Actually, your uncle made them.” Darlene patted my dad’s shoulder.

“It’s a celebration,” Dad said. “I got a job today.”

“Really!” Whitney beamed and I wondered why the news made her so excited. Maybe cheerleading takes over your brain. “Where?”

“Cameronville Auto and Body,” my dad said. “I’m the new assistant manager.”

“That’s where Zander works,” Whitney said, wiping her mouth. “You’ll like the manager. He’s nice.”

I placed my taco on my plate and stared at her. Why did she know so much about Zander’s job?

“When do you start?” Whitney asked.

“Tomorrow.” My dad smiled with pride.

If I weren’t so angry with him, I probably would have grinned too. But I still didn’t understand why he brushed off my offer to help support us. He knew I was a good mechanic and I could hold down a job and do well in school. His argument for taking it all on himself didn’t make sense.

“That’s fabulous,” Whitney said. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Dad glanced at me and then back at Whitney. “So tell me, Whitney. What goes on during cheerleading practice?”

For the rest of supper, Whitney jabbered on about cheerleading, and my dad listened, hanging on her every word. He was
positively riveted, as if she were explaining how she rebuilt her classic Corvette. I, on the other hand, wanted to be sick watching him pay so much attention to her when he had dismissed me earlier.