Рита Браун - Pawing Through The Past

After an hour of driving new and two very nice used trucks they repaired to Art's office. "What do you think?"

"I'm scared of the cost," she forthrightly replied.

He punched in a mess of numbers. "Look." He yanked out the computer printout. "I can get you an F250 HD 4 by 4 for twenty thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight dollars. That's stripped and doesn't figure in your trade-in, which I will know in a minute because while we were out cruising, one of my guys was going over your truck."

"It's in good shape."

"I know that. You take care of everything, including yourself." He pointed to figures on the right-hand column. "Add in your tags, title transfer, documentation service-and I don't know whether you want the extended service plan or not but figure another five hundred. Hold that number in your head. Round numbers are easier to remember. If you buy this now, I can give you a six-hundred-dollar rebate. That expires September fifteenth. Don't ask me why. Ford makes those decisions and the dealer has nothing to say about it. Good for you, though. But here"-he punched in some more numbers-"I can get you the XLT package for another fifteen hundred. If you buy things piecemeal like the tape deck and AC it doesn't make sense. I know this sounds crazy but if you spend money you can save money on the payments. I'm figuring you'll finance for five years. Look, I can get you the bells and whistles-" He pointed to a figure on the bottom of a new page he pulled out of the computer.

Her eyes grew large. "But that's almost four thousand more dollars."

"It is. But if we spread it over the five years it means about another thirty in your payment schedule. And Harry, this isn't the final figure. Aren't you going to badger me about the price?"

"Uh . . ."

The phone rang. "Yeah," Art said. "Great." He punched the button. "One thousand five hundred dollars on your 1978. And here's what I'll sell you the F250 HD 4 by 4 for." He scrawled numbers.

"That's almost twenty percent less." She scooted to the edge of her seat.

"That's right. You're paying what I pay plus the paperwork. What color do you want?"

"Red."

"What interior?"

"Beige."

He pointed to a red truck sitting on the lot. "You got it. Now Harry, I know you don't make a lot of money. I also know you'll drive this truck for twenty years. Why don't you take the truck home? If you don't like it, bring it back but don't go telling everyone what the cost is or everyone will want the same deal and then I'd go broke."

"Art?"

"Hey." He threw up his hands. "Like I said, I've got a thing for postmistresses. Go on, get out of here before Miranda calls and says she's overloaded."

Harry drove the new machine along I-64 feeling certain that everyone on the highway was admiring the beautiful truck. She'd done her sums at home and knew she could carry, with care, about four hundred and fourteen dollars a month.

When she drove to the front of the post office instead of the back, Miranda, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, Tucker, and Market-in picking up his mail-ran out.

"Wow!" Market whistled.

"Open the door!" Mrs. Murphy excitedly demanded, and as the door swung open for everyone to see the plush interior, the cat jumped up on the floor and then on the seat.

"O-o-o." She dug her claws in the upholstery just a tiny bit.

Within seconds, Pewter sat next to her. "Snuggly." She patted at the divider between the two seats, a console with trays, cup holders, all manner of niceties to make the truck a little office. "Even a place to store catnip."

"I want to see!" The dog whined as the humans opened the door on the other side.

"Here." Harry picked up Tucker, a heavy child, putting her on the seat after wiping off her paws.

"Neat." The dog smiled.

"Not bad." Pewter squeezed next to Tucker.

"Did you buy it?" Miranda eagerly asked.

"I think I did. I have to call my banker. I didn't give Art a firm yes."

"You can put the fifth wheel in the back-haul your horses. The old half-ton was straining," Market counseled.

"What saved me was I only hauled one at a time." Harry laughed because it did make life that much harder not being able to take two horses in her two-horse trailer.

Chris Sharpton drove up and parked. "This is new."

Harry smiled. "I haven't bought it yet."

"BoomBoom called me"-Chris pulled her mailbox key out of her purse-"asking me to come up with more ideas for the 'welcoming committee.' That's what she's calling you guys now. I told her I wouldn't mind but I hoped you wouldn't mind. After all, it's your reunion and your committee."

"'Course, I don't mind."

Chris smiled. "The Boom is getting desperate-not so much about the work for this thing but because she wants to make certain that she is perfect by homecoming-head to toe."

"Big surprise," Harry giggled.

"Can we meet tomorrow night?" Chris walked into the post office as Harry nodded yes.

Later that night, Harry turned off the lights in the barn, walked across to the house, and burst into tears. She'd lived with her old truck for so many years she couldn't imagine living without it.

No sooner had she walked into the house than Tucker barked, "Intruder!"

Harry walked back outside.

Fair was driving her old 1978 blue truck, followed by Art Bushey in a new silver Jeep.

"Hi," she said as they both got out of their vehicles.

"Here's your truck." Fair handed her the keys.

"Huh?" She was confused.

"Fair put up the down payment on the F250 so you don't have to trade in your dad's truck." Art crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the silver Jeep. "I told him he's nuts. You still aren't going to take him back but he did it anyway."

"Art, you're awful." She burst out laughing as the cats hopped into the bed of the old blue truck. The vantage point was better.

"Fair, I can't take your money."

"A late divorce settlement." He shrugged. "Now do you want the F250 or the F350 dually?"

"I'd better stick to the F250 HD."

"Doing it my way it's twelve hundred more for the dually. So you have everything you've ever wanted-your half-ton and a dually," Art said. "Big F350 in red with a beige interior just like the 250 here. And those extra wheels in the back are what you need when you're hauling weight."

"Deal!" She shook his hand.

"Red." Fair slapped his baseball cap against his thigh. "I bet Art a hundred bucks you'd buy another blue truck."

"Gotcha." Art smiled.

"Hey, wait." Harry ran into the barn, returning with a paper. "Here's the figures on the horses. I measured them tonight."

"Damn, I knew I forgot something. I'll drop off the alfalfa cubes tomorrow."

"Fair."

"Huh?"

"You're a good man." She put her hand behind his neck, drew him down, and kissed him.

"What about me?"