Authors: Kate Welsh
Several hundred yards farther down the road, a sign proclaimed that the town of Mountain View, Pennsylvania, population three hundred, was only a couple of miles ahead. Reassured, she had traveled on about a mile before the car bucked again.
Cassidy could just see the tiny town, a few lights winking in the distance, when the car stalled for the first time. She got it started, but several hundred yards farther down the road it coughed again and stalled. After several tries it did turn over, but continued to buck and cough as she lumbered down the road. She barely was able to limp the car into Earl’s Car Emporium in the center of town. No sooner had she pulled to a stop than the engine died.
Cassidy would have felt more confident in Earl’s had the weathered wood and faded sign looked the way they did for quaint effect rather than from years of neglect and aging. She got out to look around. Rusting and greasy car parts overflowed several fifty-five gallon drums next to the rustic building. The sound of country music, a metallic pounding and the odd grumble, floated out of a crooked doorway in what she thought was a converted barn.
The disgruntled voice was not reassuring.
“Mr. Earl?” Cassie called over the music as she gingerly pushed open the door. “Hello. Could someone help me?”
“Eh? What’s that?” a gravelly voice called. “Oh, well, hey there, girly. What can I help you with? Directions to Appleton?”
“Actually, my car’s acting up.”
Cassidy watched as a man in a greasy hat peered over the lifted hood of a car. When the mechanic came out from behind his current project, she remembered her grandfather describing someone as a long drink of water, and knew the description fit Mister—.
“Mister Earl?” she asked, and hoped he was better at his work than he was at keeping clean. Cassidy pulled off the glasses she only wore for driving and perched them on top of her blond head.
The man’s pale blue eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile that he didn’t betray with his mouth. “Just Earl. Earl Pedmont,” he said, and offered her his hand.
Cassidy automatically reached out to shake it. But Earl only awkwardly squeezed her fingers. When his eyes rose to look into hers, it was his look of consternation that made her realize her error. And his.
He smiled in obvious discomfort, let go and stepped back, tipping his cap in a surprisingly courtly manner. “How do, little lady.”
Cassidy looked down at her now-greasy hand, then back up at Earl, trying to hide her annoyance. “I’ve been better,” she answered truthfully. “As I said, my car is acting up. It started a few miles ago. Coughing and bucking. For a while it evened out when I accelerated. Then it started stalling, no matter what I did. I barely made it to town.”
Earl nodded. “Hmm. Let’s take a look,” he said as he turned toward the door and made his way outside.
She followed, trying not to cringe at the idea of his coveralls coming in contact with her creamy leather interior when he climbed into her pride and joy.
After starting the car and listening to the engine run a few seconds, then stall, he pursed his lips and nodded sagely. “’Pears to me you’ll be spending some time here in Mountain View, little lady. ‘Less you got a husband who can come get you, that is.” He gave her a friendly gap-toothed smile.
“No husband,” she answered, ignoring the pang in the region of her heart. Sometimes her life seemed so empty. What good was earning tons of money with no time to spend it and no one to spend it on? Especially when you didn’t earn all that money in a way that was in the least fulfilling.
“That’s good. That’s good,” Earl replied, still grinning.
His grin suddenly made Cassidy nervous. “Why do you say that?”
“Wouldn’t want him to be worrying ‘bout you being stuck here so far from home. Ain’t a nice world no more for young ladies. Guess since you don’t have a husband, you’ll be staying with us for a while.”
She looked around what she could see of the town. Stay? Here? Was he crazy? When the mountains had loomed ahead, a picture of her next few weeks had flashed into her head. A luxury suite. A chic hotel shop where she could buy a sketch pad and some clothes. A four-star restaurant, or maybe even room service for her meals. Calling this a one-horse town would be kind.
Cassidy looked back at Earl’s smiling face and wondered why he looked so pleased. “What’s wrong with my car?” she asked, trying to ignore the thought that had rocketed into her brain. What did one do in Mountain View, PA? Watch the grass grow? The frost settle?
“Could be the fuel filter. That’d be the cheapest. Could take a few days to get one up here. But then, it could be the pump or the carb. That’d take longer. But then, could be somethin’ else altogether. Won’t know till I get to workin’ on it.”
Cassidy blew out a breath. “How long will it be until you can look at it?”
“Hmm. Well, I got several folks in line ahead of you. Guess I could squeeze you in late day after tomorrow, or the next morning.”
Cassidy’s head started pounding harder. “Look, I’ll pay you double your labor rate to take a look at it tomorrow.”
“Sorry, little lady, but a promise is a promise. Can’t put you ahead. Just wouldn’t be fair. But don’t you worry none. I got me a good supplier. Bet it won’t take long at all to get hold of any part I’ll need. And once I get going, I’m real quick.”
Again Cassidy looked around at the tiny hamlet where she’d landed. “I’ll pay triple,” she offered.
Earl shook his shaggy head. “Nope. Late day after tomorrow at best.”
Cassidy squeezed her temples. Whatever had happened to her grandfather’s axiom that everyone had a price? Looking at Earl Pedmont’s set features, she decided
he’d
never heard of that particular rule of life. She felt as if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole.
Earl took off his cap and scratched his head. “You’ll be needin’ something to eat and somewhere to stay. Maybe you ought to go on down and see Irma Tallinger. She runs the café and the Mountain View Hotel. She’ll fix you right up. Her place is just there up the road a piece,” he said, pointing toward a flickering sign.
Cassidy saw the old sign but she saw nothing that looked like a hotel. She gave one last glance at her traitorous car, then turned to trudge toward the café Earl had recommended.
Her head ached. Her stomach burned. At least, she consoled herself, walking down the side of a road without sidewalks put her in no danger. Traffic in the booming metropolis of Mountain View was as nonexistent as foreign car parts.
C
assidy held out little hope that Irma’s Café would provide a decent meal. After all, it had been Earl Pedmont who’d recommended the place, and that didn’t inspire much confidence. But it seemed to be the only game in town, so she headed toward the flickering neon sign he’d pointed out. Though traffic along the country road was indeed no problem, the uneven surface was.
With the prospect of spending several days watching everywhere she put her high-heel-shod feet looming in her mind, she opened the door to Irma’s Café—and almost gasped aloud. Instead she stood there gaping because inside the unassuming concrete-block structure was a perfectly preserved fifties diner, replete with shining red counter and matching stools. Sitting opposite the counter was a row of cheery red-and-white booths.
Cassidy sniffed the air appreciatively and sighed. Until that moment her surprises that day had been anything but pleasant. Maybe her luck had changed. Maybe things were looking up.
“Don’t get too excited, Cassidy old girl, there was nowhere to go
but
up,” she muttered to herself as she went to put her hand to her throbbing head and noticed her grease-stained fingers.
As the bell over the door tinkled, an elderly woman stopped polishing the red faux-marble countertop and looked up. “Sit wherever you want,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’ll be with you in no time.”
Cassidy nodded gratefully and nearly staggered to the nearest booth. She sank down onto the comfortable red bench and put her clean palm against her forehead, closing her eyes, trying to decide what to do next.
Her car clearly needed more than the typical in-and-out repair she was used to having done. Should she have her grandfather send a car for her, or should she look for lodging? That was really no choice at all, since right then she didn’t even want to talk to her grandfather, let alone ask for his help in any way.
“Are you all right, dear?” a female voice asked.
She looked up at the elderly woman who’d called to her from behind the counter. To Cassidy, she looked like everyone’s great aunt. Round. Gray. Kindly. The fairy godmother in
Cinderella
come to life.
“My car broke down and I don’t know what to do next,” she confided to the woman for some unknown reason.
“You look like you could use a little repair yourself.”
Cassidy felt as if someone had wrapped a blanket around her cold spirit. Baffled by her reaction to the woman, Cassidy shrugged. “Oh, it’s no big deal. Just a monster headache and an ulcer burning a hole in my stomach.”
“How about a bowl of homemade vegetable soup, some crackers and a nice cup of herbal tea?”
Cassidy sighed. “Is the soup what I smelled when I came in here?”
The woman sniffed the air and chuckled. “I suppose it was. So how does that bowl sound to you?”
“Perfect. I’ll have the soup and crackers.” She thought for a second and added, “The tea, too.”
“That’ll just take a couple minutes. You need anything else, just holler for Irma.”
“I need to wash up.” She showed Irma her greasy hand.
“Earl?”
Cassidy nodded and even managed a smile. “I’d like to believe he did it by accident. After all, he’s got my car.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was an accident. He’s really a nice man. He’s just not bursting with social graces. The ladies’ room is just past the counter on the left.”
Cassidy stood. “Thank you, Irma. Earl also said to ask you about the Mountain View Hotel. It looks as if I’ll be in town for a while, so I’ll need a suite.”
“Mountain View Hotel? Is that what he said?” She chuckled. “Oh, he’s a card, that Earl. We don’t have a hotel here in Mountain View.”
Horrified, Cassidy stared at the woman. She’d given up on reaching the mountain resort of her daydreams, but she had to stay somewhere. “Then where will I stay? Earl made it sound as if I could be stuck here for days.”
“In summer I sometimes rent rooms at the parsonage. Sort of a bed-and-breakfast kind of arrangement. That must be what he meant. That tease! You’re welcome to stay with us, even though I don’t usually rent in fall or winter. I can adjust the regular rate for the off-season, or leave it and include three meals either here or with the family.” She named what Cassidy thought sounded like a very fair rate and described a room that didn’t sound like a luxury suite but at least sounded comfortable.
“That sounds fine. Can you tell me how to get to a local shop? I need to buy some clothes and personal items. This was an unplanned trip.”
Irma pursed her lips. “Hmm. Well, there’s The Trading Post across the road. You can stop and get personal items and underthings there, but as for clothing, there’s nothing in town open in the off-season except the church thrift shop. I’m sure you could get by with what you find there.”
Cassidy’s heart dropped. No little designer shop? No cute little mountain boutique? “A thrift shop?”
Irma didn’t seem to notice Cassidy’s hesitation. “It’s a little ways on up the road. Last building out of town. Our home is right next door. The shop’s in back of the church building. You can’t miss it. It looks like a little version of the church but a lot newer. My son built it last summer.”
Cassidy was appalled, but didn’t want to show it after Irma had been so kind. She felt small and petty to balk at wearing clothes from a thrift store. But this was the complete opposite of what she’d imagined, and she didn’t think she’d be able to wear something a stranger had worn and discarded. “A thrift shop,” she repeated.
“There are some really nice things. You’ll see.”
Nodding, Cassidy said, “I’ll go over after I eat. How long will it be before I can get into my room? Maybe if I sleep, this headache will go away.”
“I’ll call Josh and warn him that you’re on your way over. He and Henry can get the room ready by the time you get there. I’ll go get your soup and be back in a jiffy.”
“Hello, St. Luke’s Thrift,” Joshua said as he put the telephone receiver to his ear.
“Josh, it’s Ma.”
Joshua smiled. “Hi, Ma. I was just about to close up shop here and go in to wake Henry.”
“I need you to do a couple things for me. Make sure the ivory-and-lavender bedroom is all made up and sparkling. We’ve got a young lady coming to stay a few days. She’ll be needing some things from the shop, too.”
“Another lost soul?”
“Smarty,” she scolded with a smile in her voice. “She’s a paying guest, so, no, not lost in the usual way, but…”
Now Josh heard compassion enter Irma’s tone. Here it comes, he thought, and sighed. “But what?”
“Well, I guess that having enough money to pay your way isn’t everything in life. I’m not sure she’s real healthy, either, but I can see she’s not happy even when she smiles. You’ll see. She should be there in a while. I just gave her a bowl of soup and a cup of tea.”
Chuckling, Josh hung up the phone to once again help Irma give aid to a needy person. He wanted to tell her to worry about herself for a change. She worked too hard. Relaxed too little. But how could he try to curb her from bringing home her strays after all she’d done for him?
Of course, there wasn’t a thing amiss in the room Irma had asked him to see to, so after waking Henry, Joshua returned to the thrift shop to await the woman.
A few minutes later the bell above the door tinkled. Joshua looked up, not knowing what to expect. Then he just stared. He might not have known what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been anyone like the young woman who entered and approached the counter. Joshua stood automatically.
“Hello,” she said as she stalked toward him. “Irma from the diner sent me here. I’ll be renting a room for a few days. She said I might find a few things to tide me over till my car is finished. Can you direct me to the size eights?”
Joshua couldn’t seem to respond. Had Irma lost her mind? This was her lost soul? This take-charge woman in the two-thousand-dollar suit? He had no idea how he knew what her suit must have cost, but he often knew things without knowing how he knew them.
“Excuse me?” the young woman said, now standing directly in front of him.
Joshua realized he was staring straight ahead at her navy suit, and looked quickly up into the sweetest face he’d ever seen. It was heart-shaped, and her skin looked like translucent silk. Her bottom lip was full and the top a perfect bow. She had a nose that tipped up, giving her the look of a woodland sprite. The face did not match the attitude.
Then he looked a millimeter higher into the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. They were gray-blue and shadowed with unhappiness and even a hint of physical pain, as well. Yeah. Irma was right once again. The woman could certainly pay her way but she was just as certainly a lost soul.
“May I help you?” he asked, knowing she’d asked him a question yet unable to recall it.
“The size eights. I asked where you have the eights,” she said slowly as if he were deaf or too dull-witted to understand her.
Joshua felt his hackles rise. Then he looked again at the woman. Irma thought she needed help. He guessed he could show enough Christian charity to swallow his anger at being patronized.
“Everything for women is in the front of the shop. All jeans are in the middle. Men’s to the left. Women’s to the right. The men’s clothes are behind the jeans. Kids’ clothes are all the way to the rear.” He pointed to the signs hanging above each section. With the Lord’s help, he managed not to put voice to his anger.
Joshua watched her walk through the room as if she might catch something from clothes once worn by others, and his anger flared anew. “Ma washes everything before anything gets added to the stock,” he said through gritted teeth before he could stop himself.
She pivoted toward him and her cheeks flamed. “I’ve never had to—” She took a deep breath, shook her head slightly and tried again, “I’m sorry. I’ve just never been…”
“Down on your luck? Hard up enough to wear hand-me-downs?” Joshua sat back down on the stool behind the counter and leaned his back against the wall, his arms crossed.
He could actually see her temper slip its restraints. “Not having faced tough times financially isn’t a crime. I’m not used to shopping like this. So shoot me! I need some clothes and these are all that’s available. I can roll with the punches as good as the next guy.” Her hand came up to squeeze her forehead. “I’m sorry. Could we start over?” She returned to the counter and reached her hand out to him. “I’m Cassidy Jamison.”
Joshua felt his annoyance give way to compassion. She was as much a fish out of water in the small thrift shop he and Henry had put together to serve their small congregation as he would be in the city she probably came from. She couldn’t change the life she’d obviously been born into any more than he could change the circumstances of his life. His own clothes had once been as expensive as hers. A suit that reminded him of the past still hung, cleaned and pressed, in his closet. Besides, she really didn’t look well.
He smiled, hoping to put her at ease, and shook her hand. But it wasn’t like shaking Earl’s hand or any of his father’s parishioners. He frowned at the feeling that zinged through him. “Joshua Daniels,” he said, hearing a bewildered husky tone in his own voice.
“Irma Tallinger sent me to see her son.”
“That would be me,” he explained. “Suppose I play shopkeeper.” He shrugged. “That’s what I am today, after all.”
Her tentative return smile was surprisingly shy and sweet but still didn’t overshadow the sorrow in her eyes. “Tell me,” she asked, “what
are
stylishly dressed stranded motorists wearing in Mountain View this season?”
He pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt in her size eight, and a flannel shirt in a men’s small from the men’s section. “Here you go, pretty lady—the ultimate in hiking chic.”
She blinked, appearing to be surprised by something, then she looked away nervously. What had he said? Joshua wondered, concerned. But then she reached out and touched the jeans, and he forgot his worry. There was something akin to wonder in her eyes now.
Then she shook her head and looked down at her feet. “I don’t think that outfit would go very well with my shoes.”
Joshua followed her gaze and shook his head. “There’s only one thing high heels are going to get you in Mountain View—broken ankles. But if you prefer to walk around for the next few days on eggshells, over here we have a section of dresses, skirts and the like.”
She looked longingly at the things in his hand. “They do look comfortable.”
He could hear the disappointment and resignation in her voice and see it in her blue-eyed gaze as she continued to stare at the clothes he held. “Jeans and shirts would really be your best bet,” he added, hoping to encourage her. It was as if some invisible force held her back.
Then an idea struck. One that might give her the push she needed. He snapped his fingers. “What shoe size do you wear?”
When she told him her size, Joshua smiled and breathed a little sigh. He didn’t believe in coincidence. The Lord provides, and she really wanted those jeans. “You’re in luck. You’re the same shoe size as Ma. She has a brand-spanking-new pair of tennis shoes that I seriously doubt she’ll ever break down and wear.”