Suitor by Design

Peter shook his head, seeing as his mouth was jammed so full of eggs that he couldn’t even figure out how to swallow them. He reached for his cup of tea, now cooled to lukewarm.

Hendrick leaned back and folded his hands across his chest, like a sage elder. “If you ask me, a woman likes a man to make her feel special. Tell her she’s beautiful.”

Already tried it. With the tea, Peter managed to choke down part of the eggs.

“You could dress nice,” Hendrick added.

Peter gave him a look of disgust. How could he dress nice when his hands and arms were covered with grease most of the time? Today, Vince was going to show up. Knowing him, he’d have on that nice suit of his. Next to Vince, Peter looked like nothing, especially to a girl who dreamed of meeting a moving-picture actor. With his last swig of tea, he swallowed the rest of the eggs.

It was hopeless. He’d never dazzle Minnie. Not in a million years.

* * *

Though Minnie kept a lookout from the dress shop all day, she never saw the Pierce-Arrow cruise through town. She had intended to walk down to the motor garage as soon as Jen showed up, but her sister never did arrive. Instead, the post-ball customers kept her busy with requests for repairs and cleaning.

When 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.