Naughty Or Nice. Sherri Browning Erwin

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      An hour later, we dropped the kids off at school and were on our way to the impound lot, armed with the computer printout receipt of my now-paid bill. Ellie, snug in her car seat, slept soundly. Kate was strangely quiet, probably dying to offer more criticism or advice but too afraid to wake her baby.

      We pulled in to the single available space outside the lot, a fenced-in dump so jam-packed with cars that it was a wonder any remained out in the general population. ’Tis the season. Christmas must have been their prime time.

      “You can stay in the car.” A knot formed in my stomach as I looked at the trailer labeled OFFICES. I could do this. I could do it all on my own. “I’ll just take a few minutes. No need to risk waking Eliana.”

      “No freaking way.” Kate shut the car off. Apparently, not even the fear of waking the screamer would deter Fix-it Kate. She got out and grabbed Ellie’s seat.

      Together, we stepped onto the crumbling pavement and headed for the trailer. Inside, it was as dingy and pathetic as I’d imagined, complete with stale tobacco smell and vinyl chairs, most likely salvaged from the Goodwill down the street. Determined to bail me out, she handed me Ellie and charged right ahead with my receipts balled in her fist.

      A dead ringer for Danny DeVito’s Louie in Taxi stepped up to the Plexiglas window, only to tell Kate there was an extra fee, the per diem lot charge for parking. What a racket! After Kate paid the fee, he told her that all agents were out for the day and we would have to come back Monday—Monday!—to pick up my Lexus.

      “But—I need it now,” I said, tired of hanging back to let Kate straighten it out.

      He looked around Kate right at me. “I’m sure you do, princess, but we got rules. Can’t release the car without an agent to check her out of the lot. It’s a busy day. I’m short a few agents.”

      “Why can’t you do it?” Kate demanded, stepping in front of me again. “So you can suck another thirty dollars a day in parking fees out to cover the weekend?”

      I sidestepped her in time to see his shrug in response. “I have to man the desk.”

      “When do you expect an agent back in?” she asked, steel in her tone. “We’ll wait.”

      Kate’s modus operandi was to push back. Mine was to size Louie up, and my guess was that he was not the type to cave to pressure or demands. So what would work?

      As if on cue, my charming baby niece startled awake and launched into a full-blown wail. There was my girl.

      “You’re out of luck for the weekend,” Louie, unmoved, shouted over the din.

      “It’s right near the exit. I can pull it out on my own.” Kate’s words bordered on a threat, as if she fully intended to just do it, wheel-popping spikes in the road be damned.

      “No one drives cars on the lot but my agents. Liability issues.” He had no problem making himself heard over Ellie’s din, and he seemed entirely unmoved. I wasn’t deterred. Every man had his Achilles’ heel. What could get to a tough little lump of Boston attitude like Louie?

      I handed the baby to Kate. “Take her outside. I’ll handle it.”

      She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

      “Seriously. Let me talk to the man.”

      Clearly skeptical, Kate took Ellie and headed for the door. “I’m going to quiet her down and be right back.”

      I made my way to the window and took a moment to breathe. “I’m sorry. For my sister. She’s—she’s used to getting her way.”

      His eyes relaxed and he laughed. “I know the type.”

      Laughter was a good sign, but my work was far from done. I sized him up.

      Baby cries left him unmoved. He probably had a big family, lots of children, maybe a few grandkids, enough to have learned to tune out kid sounds. I pegged him as a younger child from a big family. I could picture plenty of bossy older sisters in his background, and maybe one or two younger ones if I was lucky. And perhaps a crabby wife. He hated it when she nagged, but more than anything, he could not stand to see her cry. Aha. Immune to baby cries perhaps, but a woman? Now, that was something.

      I felt the tears start to burn at the back of my eyes. Not until I could feel the drops clinging to them would I lift my lashes, at just the right second. Ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille. “She’s—she’s only trying to help. My husband recently passed away. I haven’t been able to keep up with my bills.”

      With every word, the tears came harder. My voice started to shake. I turned away from the window and fanned my face, as if I was trying so hard to stop.

      “I’m sorry, lady.” His voice held an edge of impatience along with the barest trace of sympathy.

      “My first Christmas without him. The kids still ask—” My voice broke. Perfect. I paused and sucked in a breath. “They still ask when Daddy’s coming home.”

      The emotion wasn’t all that hard to fake. My nerves were frayed. My feelings had been close to the surface for months. Tears were never more than a minute away. Patrick would have understood. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

      Besides sob uncontrollably for dramatic effect before I pulled it together in the nick of time to ask for a tissue, apologize for taking up his time, and turn to leave.

      “Just a sec,” he called with a sigh before I got to the door. “I’ll meet you outside.”