We finally rolled into that dot of a town. It didn't even have a stoplight. But it did have a salvage yard. Peeling white paint and an old concrete island where a gas pump used to stand. Dirty windows everywhere they still existed. And rows of old trucks that pushed back into the hardwood trees behind it. One 60's model Ford truck out front that was only in primer gray and missing its tailgate. It was sitting under a big maple tree that was probably as old as the building. All had seen better days.
We pulled in front of its garage door and stopped. Rosa rolled down her window and honked the horn.
No response. Honked again. Still nothing.
Finally, she reached under the seat and pulled out some high heels. Shrugged out of her jacket and took the straw hat that matched her blouse off my he
