This guy flirted casual as you please and we had an audience, so I changed the subject.

“You’ll never believe what happened at the funeral home . . .” While bags being torn open and then smacking cut off the chatter in the back, I gave Vance the short version of Mr. Hal Winkle being resurrected from the dead.

“You made that up.” Vance scoffed but his dimples made a show, letting me know he got a kick out of my tale.

“I ain’t that creative. Trust me.” I sighed, getting caught up in the depths of his vivid-green eyes. “I really need to go pick up the twins from day care and get home.”

“Yeah, I need to get home too.” Vance gave my lips a lingering look before tapping the top of the limo and walking away.

Staring into the side-view mirror, I watched him stroll down the sidewalk with his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. It annoyed me how he seemed to not have a care in this world. And I was even more annoyed that I didn’t want him to leave.

The pinging sound of candy meeting metal tore my eyes away from Vance’s receding form and had me twisting in my seat to see what was going on. “What was that? Did someone spill their candy?” I wasn’t crazy about the set of wheels I’d been stuck with, but I took care of them just the same.

Boss pointed at the ashtray on the door as Raleigh plucked an M&M out and popped it in his mouth.

“We got a candy dish in our car,” Raleigh garbled out, a stream of green leaking from the corner of his overfilled mouth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Eww . . .” Charlotte made a face. “That’s gross.”

“You know it’s never been used. It’s fine. He’s fine.” I dismissed it, even though it grossed me out too. I’d learned early on to pick my battles and also that boys were just gross and there was nothing we could do about that. My little brother choosing a clean ashtray for a candy dish certainly wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

No, witnessing a dead man come back to life while another dead person was laid out beside him was worse by far.

But even worse than that was Vance making sure he wasn’t seen in town conversing with me. Yeah, that stung.

Chapter 6: TOBACCO SICKNESS IS BAD,
BUT LOVESICKNESS
IS EVEN WORSE

May 1983