Read A Hoe Lot of Trouble for Free Online

help."
    "That's why you pay me the big bucks," he said, walking away.
    I moseyed over to Stan and Coby and managed to say hello and admire their handiwork before Claudia came rushing to ward me, nearly knocking me over. "That was Mamma! She's sick of the flea market and wants to come home. My Aunt Elna is trying to stall, but I don't know for how much longer. Two, maybe three hours if there's traffic on I-75."
    Kit turned to me, a look of panic in his eyes. "Since you're here, boss, why don't you stay and help out?"
    Normally, I would, but I was already late meeting with Bridget, and I knew Kit was capable of pulling it all together. "Sorry, I can't. I've got a hoe lot of things to do."
    "Smart-ass," he grumbled.
    I smiled. "Call in reinforcements, Marty or Jean-Claude."
    He was already reaching for his cell. I said my good-byes and rushed out of there.
    Guilt nagged. I should have stayed.
    But seeing Mrs. Krauss again just wasn't something I wanted to do.
    Ever.

    Gus's was a small diner in the heart of the Mill that had been there forever and then some. And I suspected the grease accumulation on the walls was older than my twenty-nine years, not that anyone would complain and risk Gus's wrath.
    The stools lining the horseshoe-shaped counter were filled, and my gaze skipped over wobbly tables, balding heads and poofy blue hairdos, looking for Bridget. I found her in the back near the rotary pay phone that hadn't worked since 1976, her head bent over a laptop.
    Squeezing my way between the tightly packed tables, I stepped over canes that acted as speed bumps, wiggled past aluminum walkers while smiling and waving at familiar faces. A lock of Bridget's white blonde chin-length bob covered most of her face, but I could see clearly that she hadn't broken the habit of biting pen caps.
    "Excuse me. So sorry," I said as the small leather backpack I used as a purse nearly tore the toupee off Mr. Gold bine's wrinkled head. Always good-humored, he grinned toothlessly at me and patted my rear as I passed.
    Funny how men never change, I thought, shaking my head.
    A gnarled hand snaked out, gripped my wrist like an iron shackle. "Nina Quinn, I need your help."
    "Hi, Mrs. Daasch. What is it this time?" Mrs. Daasch never missed an opportunity to pry gardening tips from me.
    Now that she had my attention, she peeled her fingers, one by one, from my wrist.
    "It's my potted impatiens, Nina."
    She said this as though she were speaking to a doctor. I looked over Mrs. Daasch's over-permed head. Bridget hadn't seen me yet. "What's wrong with them?"
    "Scrawny! Limper than—" She glanced sideways at Mr. Daasch, who was busy staring into the depths of his coffee mug. "Well, limp."
    Much more than I ever needed to know. "Are they in the shade? You know impatiens love their shade."
    Mrs. Daasch clutched her chest. "I'm no amateur, Nina Quinn."
    I smiled. "Hmmm. Watering every day?"
    "Every single."
    "How about drainage? Could be root rot."
    Her rheumy eyes brightened at that. "I bet you're right! I just bought new pots."
    "Some gravel, old stones, or terra-cotta chips at the bottom of the pot should do the trick."
    She patted my hand. "You have a good lunch, Nina Quinn. Thank you for your help."
    I scooted away before she thought of something else. "Bridget," I called out.
    Her head snapped up and she quickly closed the lid of her laptop before struggling to her feet, a wide smile blooming on her face.
    I stopped mid-stride, my feet nearly going out from under me. My eyes widened. My jaw hit the floor.
    Bridget put one arm behind her head, the other on her hip and posed, model-style, showing off her very pregnant tummy.
    I clapped out of sheer instinct and about thirty weathered, puckered faces turned our way. I couldn't take my eyes off her rounded stomach. "You didn't tell me!"
    The patrons in the diner began clapping too, calling out their congratulations. Bridget bowed, offered her thanks.
    "Are you going to stand there all day?" she asked me.
    "I