Free Ask Me for Tomorrow by Elise K Ackers Page A

quietly.
    Schedules, obligations and pressures tumbled and skittered out of her mind, and a few quick blinks brought Dean back into focus. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Anything I can do to help?’
    ‘I thought we were talking about Les.’
    ‘We were. And then you started worrying about everything that needs doing here and at home.’
    Looking at his face, she wondered how it could be that a long-ago school acquaintance, a dirty mechanic and single father, could read her so easily. He saw things others hadn’t taken the time to notice, and wanted to help her without knowing what he was volunteering for. It felt . . . foreign. And nice. More nice than foreign, she thought, weighing them in her mind. There was no point in denying what was so clearly on her face, so she nodded. ‘True. But now I’m back.’
    ‘Well, thanks for your advice.’
    ‘Anytime.’ And she meant it. Sitting across from Dean this way, talking like old friends – it was something time had been too pinched to allow her for so long.
    His lips curved devilishly. ‘Careful, say that and I may make a habit of this.’ He lifted his mug in the air, a small salute to the moment, then turned in his seat at the sound of laughter and hurried footsteps. ‘Sounds like we’re back on the clock – that’ll be our kids.’
    By the following week, things were better than ever for Dean. It felt as if he’d resolved his issue with time – whether it had stretched or he was no longer so stretched, he couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t feel like everything was happening at once any more. He’d been more hands-on in the garage, free to work for hours on end on one car or project without worrying about phone calls, walk-ins or paperwork. Hiring Alice had made a big difference in every aspect of his life; he wasn’t working long hours to keep up with demand, which meant he was getting more time with his kids. He wasn’t pushing his staff or asking too much of himself. Life had improved.
    He should have hired her years ago.
    Because it was nearing three o’clock, he cleaned his hands in the small sink outside the reception area and readied himself for some conversation. He’d developed a habit of spending time with Alice before the kids turned up, and liked finishing his work days this way. Alice also seemed to enjoy it, and had started moving a chair up to the desk for him, which he liked more than he would ever admit to her.
    Today there were nerves in his stomach, and his throat was tight. He didn’t have an easy conversation in mind this time – he had a bunch of confronting questions that Alice wasn’t going to like.
    He’d come to believe she was hiding something from him. She was perpetually tired, didn’t talk much about what she did after hours, and evaded his invitations to spend time together outside of work. The kids were all getting on now, and had taken to walking to the garage after school together. They wouldn’t have minded seeing more of each other, yet Alice never accepted his invitations to dinner.
    He saw her looking at him sometimes. He didn’t flatter himself that she harboured an above-average level of interest in him, but it did make him wonder whether she was deciding if she could confide in him.
    Today he would convince her she could.
    But Alice wasn’t in the reception area when he stepped inside, nor was she out the front with a customer. He was about to pull a chair over to her desk to wait for her, when he was brought up short by a strange sliding sound. It hissed, like a long whisper, paused, then hissed again. He strode past the antique gas pump his customers admired and stepped through the open door to the storeroom.
    Lit by a single insubstantial light, the small room was too dark for him to see details, but half-way down the narrow aisle, standing between stacked drums of oils and a high shelving system packed with boxed parts, was a person.
    ‘Alice?’
    The penlight swung in his