Horatio (he insisted I call him by his first name) gallantly held the door open for me, then had to step quickly to catch me as I tripped over a zooming toddler and did a swan dive (no pun intended) for the floor. My eyes widened as I straightened up and got my first look at Wolfpack Auto Repairs, Inc.
There were people everywhere.
Against the far wall a group of teenagers sat on what was obviously a homemade bench, caught in that awkward stage between childhood and adults as they listened to Tyra Banks and passed around a huge box of Cracker Jacks. In the middle of the room about a dozen people sat in rows of hard plastic chairs, flipping through magazines and talking on cell phones. The soft snore coming from somewhere in the middle of the group told me at least one of them had decided to use this break from the blistering afternoon heat to catch a siesta.
I bit down on a smile when I saw the little boy I had stumbled over earlier racing to the play area near the reception desk. Someone-I had a pretty good idea who-had built a wooden toy chest and filled it to overflowing with dolls, stuffed animals and action figures of all shapes and sizes. A pair of little girls fought over whose turn it was to play with a life-sized grey wolf in the corner while a small collection of pre-schoolers happily drove Thomas and his Friends across the giant wooden train table.
Looking around, I realized that the floors had been covered with textured tiles in a deep cocoa, and rather than the pale, institutional paint I had been expecting someone had created a forest mural across all of the interior walls. It was enchanting, and very, very Jake.
"Hello? Bella? Are you in there?"
I flushed, realizing I hadn't heard a word Horatio had said since we stepped inside.
"It's all right, I had about the same reaction the first time I came in after he'd fixed the place up." Horatio chuckled, patting me on the shoulder as he looked around the room with fatherly pride. "Boy's done something special here, that's for sure. You known Jacob long?"
"Since we were kids," I said with a smile.
"He's a good boy. I was afraid when old Smitty died that this place was going to die with it. Didn't figure the kid would be able to handle it on his own, but he's done all right." He paused, glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me and started whispering furiously.
"Listen, I know I ain't got no right to ask, but…" he swallowed nervously, "…you gonna be coming around often?"
"I…I'm not sure. I mean, I'm not going to be in town very long. Why?"
He reached up, scooping his hat off his head and holding it out.
"It's just…well, do you think you might be able to get this signed for me? You can leave it with Jake, he knows where to find me."
Ugh. That wasn't what I had been expecting. I eyed the hat dubiously, taking in the dark band around the brim and the droplets of sweat slowly rolling onto the floor. If I could have found a good reason to refuse him I would have, but since the cool lobby seemed to have frozen my ability to come up with a creative excuse I just pasted a weak smile on my face and swore to make the best of it.
"Sure," I said, reaching out with two fingers to take the sweat-coated cap. It was going in the washing machine the minute I got home.
"Thanks," he said, his florid face breaking into a brilliant smile.
"Mr. Stephens? I think Bessie's just about ready to rock."
For the second time that day my stomach firmly lodged itself in my throat. The owner of the voice was standing behind us, a pair of keys in her hand and a warm smile on her face. She was about 18 or 19, and dressed in a casual baby-doll tee with "Florida State" printed across the front, a pair of khaki cargo pants and Skechers that had obviously seen better days she could have been any college student working over her Christmas break-until you got a look at her face.
She didn't look like anyone that would belong in a garage. Human or not, Rosalie would have hated her. From her sun-kissed skin with its light smatter of freckles to her shocking blue eyes and rosebud mouth to the cascade of thick, blonde curls that tumbled down to her tiny waist, she was the prom queen, Miss America and the girl next door all rolled into one. The sight of her sent my earlier sense of well-being rushing away on a tidal wave of insecurity.
"Andy m'girl, I knew you could get 'er going again." Horatio chortled with glee, reaching out to pluck the keys out of her hand. "How much do I owe you?"
"We'll put it on your tab and send out a bill at the end of the month, just like we always do," the girl said with a smile. "I just need you to come up and sign the usual paperwork and you guys will be good to go."
I heard something crinkle as she guided him up to the front desk. Glancing down, I bit back a chuckle at the sight of the plastic grocery bag she'd pushed into my hand. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth (at least, not when I was desperate) I stuffed the dripping hat inside and tightly tied the handles together before following them up to the front. I'd get Renee's car signed in, then I'd go find Jake.