the boathouse. Creteâs truck was parked out back, a boat trailer hitched to it. âGet on in,â he said.
We climbed into the cab. âWhereâre we going?â
âI thought for your first day, weâd start with something easy.â He grinned. âHow about some fishing?â
âThat doesnât sound like work,â I said. âNot that Iâm complaining.â
He laughed and held a finger up to his lips. âDonât tell your dad. And put on some sunscreen. All that skin peeling off makes you look like a goddamn leper.â
We fished until lunchtime, not catching anything worth keeping, and then headed back to Daneâs for hamburgers. Crete set me up at the front register, and I spent most of the afternoon staring out the window, hoping to catch sight of Daniel. Crete drove me home after work, telling me that heâd be gone the next day and Judd would be in charge. I ran straight into the house to called Bess, and we spent a good hour discussing the way Danielâs hair hung down in his eyes (sexy), and the fullness of his lips (not too full), and the dimple that appeared in his cheek when he smiled (also sexy).
Bess complained that no hot guys ever came into the Laundromat. Sheâd spent her first day, and probably would spend every day after that, watching granny panties and overalls swirl around in the machines.
There was no mention of Cheri on the Springfield nightly news. Her murder was no longer the top story, and more and more time had started to creep in between updates. I wondered how long it would take her to fade into legend, just like my mother.
The next morning at work, I found Judd in the kitchen and asked him what I should be doing. âI donât know,â he said after asking me to repeat myself. A knife trembled in his liver-spotted hands as he sliced a sandwich into crooked halves. âGo watch Debbie work the register.â
âI already know how to do the register,â I said, extra loud so he could hear me. He had to be getting too old to work, but heâd shown no interest in retiring from his position as assistant manager. âI can help you. Need me to make sandwiches?â
âNah, just packing lunch for the new kid. Heâll be doing some cleanup out on the property today.â
The new kid. Daniel. âWhy donât I go help with that? If you donât really need me around here. Iâll just make an extra lunch for myself.â I grabbed the jar of peanut butter.
Judd looked uncertain. âAinât easy work, I expect. Donât know if Creteâd want you out there.â
âHe told me to do whatever you said. To make myself useful.â I spread jelly on bread and rummaged around for paper sacks.
Judd sighed. âI suppose itâll get done quicker with two.â
I finished packing the lunches, and Daniel walked up to the counter, nodding hello. âLucyâs coming along,â Judd said. Daniel nodded again, his expression unchanged, and the three of us headed out to the parking lot and piled into Juddâs truck. I held my arms in my lap to keep from brushing elbows with Danielâup close, he smelled like Ivory soap and line-dried laundryâand began to second-guess my impulsive decision. As much as I wanted to be near him, he made me nervous. Weâd never had a real conversation, had never spoken about the game of spin the bottle. How could spending the day alone with him be anything but awkward and uncomfortable?
I was also starting to wonder what exactly Iâd volunteered for. Creteâs property contained an abandoned homestead, thickets of impenetrable brush, and a scrap-metal graveyard littered with car parts and appliances. I hated to guess which of those things Iâd be cleaning up.
We bumped along the dirt road that led toward Creteâs house, and Judd turned off on another, narrower road, just two tire tracks with weeds growing in between.