Free The Fixer Upper by Mary Kay Andrews

up and my dad had taken a job in Orlando, and I didn’t know a soul at St. Catherine’s. Her parents had gotten a divorce too, so she knew what that was like.”
    “St. Catherine’s,” he murmured. “Is that in Georgia?”
    “Richmond, Virginia,” I said quickly. “Mitch moved a lot for his job, and he just thought it was better for me to be in a school where I’d have some sense of stability.”
    He nodded. It was dusk now, and as we passed the darkened shops on Confederate, I felt a deep chill sink into my bones.
    “Where do people shop?” I asked. “Is there a Target or anything like that?”
    “No such luck,” he said. “We had a Wal-Mart out on the bypass, but that closed down a couple of years ago. For groceries, you’ve got Piggly Wiggly or Bi-Lo. There’s a Family Dollar store, you passed that on theway into town. Anything more than the basics, you’ve gotta head down to Macon, or up to Peachtree City.”
    “Oh.” It was starting to sink in. I was really and truly in the sticks.
    He must have seen the depressed look on my face. “Guthrie’s not such a bad place,” he said quietly. “The economy could be better, but the folks down here are the real thing. Most of ’em, anyway.”
    “I’m sure it’s a wonderful place,” I said. “I don’t mean to downgrade your hometown. It’s just…I’ve been living in D.C. It’ll be an adjustment, I’m sure.”
    “You mind if I ask what you’re doing, moving down here? I mean, Dad told me you’re a lawyer, been working as a lobbyist. Seems like a pretty high-flying life to give up and move to Guthrie.”
    I grimaced. “My job ended. Sort of…unexpectedly. And I thought I’d take a little time, maybe reevaluate my career path, before I just jump into another job. Mitch told me about Birdsong, and it seemed like an interesting opportunity.”
    While I was speaking, my inner voice was editing: Talk about major lobby-lingo double talk. Interesting opportunity? Face it, Dempsey, you’re outta work, no prospects, no money, no home. Guthrie’s your only shot.
    “Interesting?” Tee said. “Yeah, it ought to be interesting, at the very least. What do you plan to do for transportation?”
    I gave him a pretty smile. “That’s where you might help me out. I guess I’ll be buying something to drive. But I’ve been living in D.C. for so long, I can’t even remember the last time I owned a car. Any thoughts about where I can pick up a set of basic wheels?”
    “Well…” He pondered the matter. We’d arrived at Birdsong. It looked even gloomier at nightfall. From the curb I could see one tiny light shining through the underbrush.
    “There’s the Catfish,” he said finally. “Ella Kate used to drive it, but I think the sheriff finally sweet-talked her into giving up her license after she drove up over the curb trying to park at the courthouse. It ain’t pretty, but it runs.”
    “The Catfish?”
    “Your uncle Norbert bought it at a government-surplus auction. It’sa Crown Victoria—you know, like a police cruiser? I’m guessing from the mideighties. It’s about the size of the Queen Mary . Probably gets roughly the same gas mileage.”
    “A police cruiser?”
    “Well, to be specific, I think it was a Georgia Highway Patrol car. But Norbert had it painted. Bulldog red, of course. He was a big UGA fan.”
    “Oh.” I sat there looking at that dim light shining through the tangle of weeds and trees. What had I gotten myself into?
    “Hey,” Tee said softly. “Why don’t you just let me take you over to the Econo Lodge? Just for tonight. I could pick you up in the morning, bring you over here, give you a proper introduction to Ella Kate. It’ll all look better in the morning, I promise you.”
    I bit my lip, sorely tempted to accept his offer. But no, I decided. Now or never.
    “That’s very kind of you,” I said, my hand on the door. “But I really just need to get myself established here. You know, dig in my heels and get