Free Plain Jayne by Hillary Manton Lodge Page B

for you?”
    â€œNo. Kim probably has by now.”
    â€œI could drive it down.”
    â€œIt’s in southeast Portland.”
    â€œI need to make a delivery in Portland anyway.”
    â€œHow are you going to get there if you’re driving the car back?”
    â€œI could take your bike.”
    Like that was going to happen. “Nobody rides my bike but me.”
    â€œReally?”
    I would have crossed my arms if the action hadn’t shot sparks of pain to my shoulder. “Yes. Really.”
    â€œYou’re getting cranky. Do you need another pain pill?”
    â€œNo, I don’t need another pain pill. And how would you make a delivery using my bike?”
    â€œIt’s a box. I could easily put it into a well-padded backpack.”
    â€œYou own a furniture store.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you’re delivering a box?”
    â€œIf there’s one thing they teach you in business, it’s diversification.”
    â€œDo you even have your motorcycle endorsement?”
    â€œI do. I’ve got my own helmet and everything.”
    â€œGood, ’cause you’re not wearing mine.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œYou’d get man cooties on it.”
    Sara giggled from the backseat.
    â€œThat’s enough from you, young lady,” I said. “Man cooties are very serious. They cause all kinds of problems.”
    The girlish giggling continued, and I couldn’t help but join in. I sobered when I looked at Levi’s earnest face.
    Yes, man cooties could do all sorts of things. They could make you forget about your boyfriend.
    â€œSo,” Sara said, interrupting the moment, “what are we going to tell my parents?”
    I shrugged my right shoulder. “I don’t know. What are you going to tell them?”
    â€œYou’re not going to help me?”
    â€œI’m not going to lie to them.”
    Sara opened her mouth, shut it, and then crossed her arms.
    â€œShe’s right, Sara,” Levi said. “Mom can smell a lie twenty feet away. Lies and rock music.”
    â€œShe’s got a good nose, your mother.”
    â€œWoman’s got eight kids,” Levi said. “By now I think she’s telepathic. Don’t worry about it. I’ll come in with you—that’ll be distraction enough.”
    â€œHow are you going to get back?” I asked. “I mean, after you take Ida’s car back to her.”
    â€œI can take your bike, or Ida can drive me home.”
    Sara snorted. “And send you with two loaves of bread and a batch of cookies.”
    â€œOh,” I said with a nod. “Such sacrifice.”

    In the end, my wrist brace stole the show. Gideon roundly ignored Levi, Martha hovered around my arm, asking if the brace came off so she could put a poultice on it, but then suggesting maybe putting it on my fingers might help.
    Sara all but ducked away to her room.
    Smart kid.
    I sent Levi out with the keys to the bike, telling him I’d call him about it later. Then I headed to my room to see if the magical phenomenon of cell service happened to be functioning.
    For once it was. I dialed Kim’s number. “Do you know if anyone’s picked up my car yet?”
    Kim snorted. “You leave for Amish country, and you’re worried about your car?”
    â€œI sprained my wrist—”
    â€œAnd here I am being a jerk. Bet you can’t ride like that. Sorry. Do you need me to drive your car to you?”
    â€œActually, a friend of mine is going to pick it up.”
    â€œSomeone Amish? That’s original. I thought they didn’t drive.”
    â€œThey don’t, and no, he’s not Amish.”
    â€œ
He
? Who is he? How did you meet him? Have you told Shane about him?”
    There are disadvantages to being friends with investigative journalists.
    â€œHe is the owner of a local Amish-style woodcraft store. It’s complicated. His family is Amish and