she finally closed the shop at five o’clock, she headed directly for the garage with the envelope containing the day’s receipts and orders tucked in her coat pocket. Soon enough she saw the Pierce-Arrow in the first bay. Vince and Peter hovered near the front end, discussing something.
Minnie pinched her cheeks for color and pressed her lips together, hoping the lipstick hadn’t bled. Her pulse thrummed as she crossed the street and stepped into the garage office.
“Got one that’ll fit?” Vince asked from the work area.
Minnie wrinkled her nose at the pungent combination of grease and cigarette smoke. She instinctively opened her handbag to fetch a handkerchief to place over her nose and then changed her mind. It might muss her face powder, and it certainly wouldn’t impress anyone.
So instead she forced a smile and stepped boldly through the door into the work area. “I’m here.”
Both men stopped talking to look at her.
Her jaw dropped. “What happened?” Their trousers were wet and muddy.
“Flat tire,” Peter said.
The front passenger’s side was balanced on a jack, and the punctured tire lay on the floor.
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