Turn Over

She looked around. “Are you here to say something about the article? The reporter asked the questions. I just answered them.”

“I understand. I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” She looked surprised.

“Why would I be upset?”

She sat across from me. “Do you know I have less than a month to find a place to live? There aren’t any open campgrounds on the island. Besides that, how am I going to haul that trailer?” Her voice started to rise.

“I think I have a solution for you.”

“And what is that?”

“What if I told you there is campground where you and Lindy can move?”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing on the island. Beach Combers Cove was the last one that allowed for full-time residents.”

I grinned. “Until the new one opens”

“But how? Where?”

“You know on the sound side near the bridge, there’s that vacant lot?”

“The one with rusted cars and boats?”

I nodded. “That’s the one.”

“I’m sorry, I might be desperate, but I’m not that desperate.”

My hand reached across the table, pressing against her wrist. “I wouldn’t suggest that. I know you’re trying to find a place for your daughter to live.”

“Then how is a junkyard going to be a suitable place for us?”

“What do you say you meet me there after work and I’ll show you? What time is your shift over?”

She still looked skeptical. “The shift change is at three. But I have to get my daughter.”

“Bring her with you. I’ll see you there.”

She stood next to the table. “All right.”

I finished my pancake breakfast, left change on the table, and headed to my car. It was a more expensive solution than I wanted, but in the long run it would be worth it. I didn’t need any more stories bashing me for kicking out a single mother.

I scowled thinking about the reporter who had taken a swing at my character and motives. It didn’t matter. I had a way to fix it.

I peeled out of the parking lot.

A few minutes after three, Shawna pulled up behind me. You could hear the bridge traffic as cars passed over the sound. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t terrible. Any kid could sleep through that.

“You made it.” I walked toward her, while she unbuckled the little girl from a booster seat.

“Yes. Now what is it you’re proposing?” She eyed the weeds growing around tires and through the windshield of a rusted out Mustang.

“I should be able to have water and electric hookups run out here in two weeks. We’ll have all of this cleared.” I waved my hands toward the abandoned vehicles.

“You own this?”

“As of this morning, yes.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and surveyed the small lot.