Charleston with a Clever Cougar: A Dance with Danger Mystery #6 (3 page)

“But she could also get sick again,” Daisy
pointed out.

“It is possible,” I admitted. “It’s hard to
predict how it all will turn out for your mom. That’s why you
should let her know about your dad’s plan.”

Lord, I hate it when the snakes, rats, and
weasels of the world get the chance to save their bacon through
fate, not by redeeming their own lacking souls. It’s just not fair,
is it?

“Come on.” I put away my disinfectant spray,
washed the sponge and nuked it for a minute, and then headed for
the office. “I’ll drive you home. And you tell your mom I’ll be
around if she needs to vent.”

“Thanks, Cady.”

“You bet, kid.”

“Can I drive?” I looked at that hopeful
little face, eager and attentive. Who was I to crush that spirit?
Carole, sidelined by neuropathy as a result of her chemotherapy,
couldn’t drive, let alone teach her daughter the fundamentals of
being behind the wheel. Would it kill me to give the kid some road
time? What was the point of having a learner’s permit if she
couldn’t practice her driving skills?

“No texting. No radio. No chatter. You focus
on the road, on the other drivers, on what is in front of you and
what is behind you. Is that clear?”

“Wow, you would have made a great drill
sergeant,” Daisy decided.

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda. I guess I missed my
calling. Instead, I’m spending my days baking cakes and making
coffee. Are we good with the rules?”

“I guess. Does that mean we can go home on
the highway?”

“Good lord, no!” I responded emphatically.
“Not in my trusty van!”

As a baker, I often had to buy supplies, and
that vehicle was my lifeline. I couldn’t afford to have it in the
repair shop. How else would I be able to schlep the bags of sugar
and flour, the dozens of eggs, the butter, vegetable oil, or milk?
All I needed was a fender bender. And yet, I understood the hopes
and dreams of a normal life for Daisy, and I was determined to make
sure she got it, even if it meant taking a big, fat chance with my
van. We just weren’t going to overdo it.

Once I had turned the key and rattled the
knob to be sure the back door of the shop was locked up tight, I
tossed Daisy the keys and we crossed the parking lot. The air was
crisp on this soon-to-be-spring day, and when the wind came in from
the Sound, it seemed to go right through me. I longed for spring,
for the first warm days to roll in on a southern breeze. I couldn’t
wait to get home, change into my sweats, and curl up on my sofa
with a bowl of hot beef barley soup, some crackers, and a good
book. It had been a long day and I was bushed. In a way, I rather
enjoyed being chauffeured home, stretching my legs in the passenger
seat. Daisy made a valiant effort to do it all right -- checking
the rearview mirror, adjusting the seat to accommodate her much
shorter legs, and then finally finagling with the side mirrors. I
let her find her own comfort zone. When she was ready, she put the
key in the ignition, turned it, and engaged the stick shift,
backing out at about three miles an hour. It was all I could do not
to smile.

With the left blinker clicking, she waited
for all the cars to pass before she moved forward in a slow roll.
Her little body hovered above the steering wheel, the child in her
still in awe of her new skills. I had to turn away briefly, so she
wouldn’t see me chuckle.

We traveled down the Boston Post Road,
heading west, in light traffic. When Daisy got to Sandy Point Road,
she turned on the indicator and waited for a line of cars to pass
by. With care, she began to turn, and that’s when it happened. From
out of nowhere, a car rear-ended us, slamming us so hard that I bit
my lip. Luckily, no one was coming the other way, because Daisy’s
terrified foot lifted off the brake on impact, and we crossed into
the oncoming lane.

“Stop!” I screamed, “use the brakes!” The
command didn’t register with the teenager for those few critical
seconds. I braced myself against the dashboard just as we went
flying into a very solid mailbox post.

“Ouch!” Daisy was rubbing her cheek where the
airbag struck. The van was still in drive.

“Put...the van in...park,” I managed to
say.

“Cady, you’re hurt!” The young driver started
to cry.

“Now,” I insisted. “Park.”

She followed my instruction with shaking
hands as I sat back, still feeling the full wallop of my own
airbag, not to mention the pain that resulted from the jolt my
outstretched arms took when they were sent packing from the
dashboard with a very rude thrust. I knew I was going to be in a
world of hurt before long, so I tried to concentrate with the
little energy I had in reserve.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“I’m so, so, so sorry!” Tears tumbled down
those cheeks. “Please don’t die!”

Chapter Three --

“I’m not dying,” I assured Daisy, even though
I felt like I had gotten drop-kicked in an attempt to get me
through the goalposts of heaven.

My passenger door opened with a sudden
whoosh
, and a face popped in. I saw a pair of green eyes
behind nerd glasses.

“Everybody okay in here?” said the gnome in
the tattered raincoat.

“Cady’s hurt bad!”

“No, I’m not,” I disagreed with more
forcefulness than necessary. “I’m just banged up.”

“I trained as a medic,” said that serious
face. “Two tours of Afghanistan, one tour of Iraq. I’ve seen it
all. Now, what hurts?”

“My shoulder.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers very gently?” He
was now kind, reassuring, asking me to check this body part or
that. There wasn’t any of the acidity in his voice that I heard at
the shop earlier. It was as if he were a different person, totally
focused on helping. I could see people all around the car. A buzz
seemed to fill the air as people compared notes on what they had
seen.

“He hit them and then took off!” said a
man.

“What a terrible thing to do!” a woman
responded.

“I think it was deliberate. He had to know
there were injuries!” How could he not know, I wondered.

“Did anyone get the license plate?” That was
a good question, I thought. Forget about that pain. Push it away.
Think of the car insurance and car registration. In the glove
compartment. Your driver’s license. That’s in your wallet in your
pocketbook.

“It’s okay,” the experienced medic promised
me. “Just rest. We’ll get you to the hospital and the doctors will
patch you up.”

“The van!” I groaned with dismay. I had the
Henslacker wedding on Saturday. “How am I going to bake my
cakes?”

“I’m so sorry,” Daisy sobbed.

“Why?” There it was, that sharp tone again.
The man leaned past me and focused on the young girl. “Don’t you
know it wasn’t your fault? That driver sped up before he struck you
from behind. I saw the whole thing. You did nothing wrong.”

“Really?” I could hear the hope in her
voice.

“Really. Here come the EMT’s.”

Three hours later, I was driven home from the
emergency room by Walter Jackson, my morning guy, the man who came
in to Cady’s Cakes at five every morning to get things going at the
shop. Daisy had insisted on staying with me, and now she wanted to
fuss over me. I just wanted to go to bed and let my head stop
spinning. The doctor had prescribed a muscle relaxant and at the
moment, all my bones had melted, leaving only a Gumby-like
structure to hold up my aching body.

“I might be a little late,” I warned Walter,
“but I’ll be at work tomorrow.”

“Boss, I can handle it with Darlene. Why
don’t you take some time to rest?”

“Too much to do,” I insisted. I was thinking
about the special orders that needed to be filled.

“Maybe you could come in later in the day,
after you get some rest.”

“Maybe.” At the moment, the pain was about to
drop me to my knees, and I had only gotten as far as the bottom
step of the front entry. I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath,
and started climbing. Carole joined us just as Daisy produced my
keys from her pocket and opened the door. I couldn’t wait to sink
down on my sofa and just forget about everything. But that was not
to be. Walter and Daisy accompanied me up the stairs to the second
floor.

“We should get you to bed,” Carole insisted.
“Daisy, find Cady a nightgown. I think we can take it from here,
Walter.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she responded, sounding quite
confident.

“Don’t you worry about the shop, Cady. I’ll
take care of everything until you’re back on your feet.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine in the morning. The doctor
said it was only bruises and contusions.”

I caught the three of them exchanging
glances. Walter patted my hand on the way out.

“Trust me, boss. I can handle it. We won’t
embarrass you.”

“We?”

“I’m going to help him,” Daisy announced.

“It’s a school day,” I pointed out. “And you
can’t afford to miss any time. Your education comes first.”

“I only have half a day tomorrow. School
assembly. I’m not missing anything important. Besides, you need my
help.”

“How about if I handle the cash register from
eight to eleven?” Carole offered. “I just have to pour coffee and
bag muffins, right? I can handle that, especially if Darlene will
be there. Daisy can take over when she gets out of school.”

“I can’t ask you to work for me,” I told
Carole, shaking my head. “You’ve got to conserve your energy.”

“I’m fine. Besides, it’s about time I was
able to do something good for you, after all the help you’ve given
me and my kids. I won’t take no for an answer.”

I looked at that face and instantly
recognized her expression. She was no longer “Cancer Carole”. She
was a woman on a mission, to help me keep my business afloat. That
purpose gave her strength she hadn’t shown in a long time. Maybe it
wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“Only if Darlene is there, too. And Daisy
can’t miss any classes. I don’t want to be responsible for her not
going to college!”

“You let me worry about my kid and your
shop,” Carole smiled. “You just focus on feeling better.”

“I’ll be good in the morning. I’ll get to the
shop as soon as I can.”

“How are you going to get there?” Carole
wondered, a gentle smile on her lips. “Don’t you remember what
happened to your van?”

“Oh, criminy! How bad is it?”

“Walter says it will be in the shop for a
while. Your insurance company will get you a rental, I’m sure.”

“I have to call them,” I muttered groggily,
beginning to fade.

“First thing in the morning, Cady. You’ll
have all day to take care of that. Now, just go to sleep.”

Carol sent Daisy home to watch after Dylan.
She stayed in my guest room, checking on me from time to time. Even
though she was still on the thin side after the last round of
chemotherapy, her energy didn’t seem to flag. If anything, she
seemed energized by the chance to play Florence Nightingale.

I spent much of the night tossing and
turning, trying to find a comfortable position. My muscles really
hurt. That’s the trouble with bracing yourself for a crash. I would
have been better off not seeing that mailbox coming at me.

Just after seven, I opened my eyes and lay
there for a few minutes, watching the changing sunlight play upon
my bedroom wall. So many thoughts flooded my head, but the one
thing that stood out for me was the green-eyed gnome. He was so
different in responding to the emergency, showing genuine
compassion, but that gruffness seemed to turn on and off with the
ease of a light switch.

After fixing me some toast, yogurt, and
coffee, Carole headed home to shower and get to the shop by eight.
Lonnie, our neighbor at Soundings, had offered to drop her off on
his way to work. Daisy ran into him on the sidewalk, roping him in
as taxi driver for her mother. She was becoming a very resourceful
young woman.

Darlene always started her shift at seven,
opening Cady’s Cakes for the day, greeting the first customers as
they trickled through the door in search of a coffee and pastry.
She was an experienced hand, so I knew she could keep things
copacetic with Carole, her enthusiastic, but untrained volunteer.
Even if my friend only greeted people, she would be helpful. I just
didn’t want Carole overdoing it.

Daisy stopped by on her way to school. She
poured me a second cup of coffee.

“I’m really sorry about your van,” she
repeated for the tenth time.

“You know what? I’m really sorry, too, Daisy.
But it’s still not your fault. You did everything right. I’m glad
you weren’t hurt.”

“You don’t look so hot, Cady,” she announced
as she watched me make my way to the sofa. “You’re walking like my
great-grandma.”

“Gee, is it that bad?” Gloria was going on
eighty-five and was scheduled for hip replacement.

“It really is. Hey, Cady,” she continued,
“that guy was pretty nice last night. I mean, he seemed kind of
cranky when he came into the shop for coffee, but he was different
when he was helping us.”

“He was,” I agreed.

“You should go out with him.”

“What?” That came out of left field and
caught me unaware. “What are you talking about?”

“I think he likes you. You guys should
date.”

“He used to be a medic, Daze. That’s like
being an EMT in the military. His job was to take care of injured
people”

“Oh.” I saw her process the information. But
then she surprised me again. “I still think he likes you. He was
looking at you like he cared.”

“Maybe he just likes blueberry muffins,” I
suggested.

“Maybe he just likes you. Besides, it’s about
time you started dating. Stephen’s not coming back, is he? Thank
goodness. That guy was a loser. And stupid, too.”

“Don’t you have to get to school?” I asked,
wagging my finger at her. She tossed her head back and laughed.