Free A Measure of Happiness by Lorrie Thomson Page B

sounded like a long-legged skinny blonde who could eat anything she wanted without gaining an ounce.
    Even Celeste knew that sort of person didn’t exist.
    â€œYou named your car Matilda?”
    â€œYou got a problem with that?”
    â€œYeah, I’ve got a problem. She looks more like an Agnes to me. How old is she?”
    â€œMy girl’s an ’86. Bought her from the sweetest little old lady you’d ever want to know. Matilda’s dependable and, believe it or not, good on gas, so think before you start trash-talking my girl.”
    Celeste waited for Zach to crack a grin. He didn’t.
    She made sure her door was unlocked and stepped outside. The wind carried the aroma of damp leaves and a hint of a far-off wood fire, the smell she’d mistaken for a kitchen fire fiasco. The doormat’s plastic grass spiked beneath her bare insteps. “You got your car when her first owner was done with her,” Celeste said. “No one expected anything of her anymore, right? So you give her the name Agnes. Old-fashioned but nothing showy. Then, when she surpasses expectations, everyone’s surprised.” Celeste made jazz hands around her head, widened her eyes, made her mouth into a lowercase o .
    She was joking, sort of, but the silly face made her think of Katherine. Celeste had hoped to return to Hidden Harbor with a degree from Culinary America and enough experience to convince Katherine to sell. Celeste had never really wanted to open a bakery in New York. That threat, promise, whatever you wanted to call it, had been posturing. A test to see whether Katherine really knew Celeste at all.
    Katherine had failed.
    Zach folded his arms and squinted at Celeste. “First off, who’s everyone? ” he asked. “Second, who cares what hypothetical people think?”
    Sadly, Celeste did give half a shit about what real people thought of her. And she was totally embarrassed about the shit she gave.
    But of course Zach was only talking about his car, nothing deeper.
    â€œI named my car after the movie to please myself,” Zach said. “ Matilda suits me just fine.”
    â€œWait a minute. Matilda from the movie?” A girl born to crappy parents turns out to have magical powers. A car deemed unsuitable turns out to run well enough to convey Zach to Hidden Harbor. “I can get onboard with that. Now, when I got Old Yeller—”
    â€œYou named your car Old Yeller?”
    â€œYeah. What’s wrong with that?”
    â€œYou know that story doesn’t end well, right? You know the dog—car—”
    â€œSee? You’ve only just met him, and he’s already surpassed your expectations.”
    â€œ Ha, ” Zach said, more an exhalation than a word, air rushing out of him in surprise.
    Expression neutral, Celeste made a second show of jazz hands.
    As though taking her point to heart, Zach sat down on the cement step below Celeste. “And yet I still need an inexpensive place to park Matilda for the night.”
    â€œHoliday Inn in Bath?” Celeste asked.
    â€œI hate hotels.”
    â€œYeah, me too.” Celeste sat down on the step beside Zach, making sure to leave a space between them. A space large enough to fit an average-sized guy. A space large enough to fit Matt the Rat. She tucked the hems of her sweatpants beneath her toes, rubbed them to encourage circulation. “Just for the night?”
    Zach shrugged. “Until I find an apartment without a year lease.”
    â€œI don’t mean to pry—”
    â€œExactly what you say if you’re about to—”
    â€œI know Katherine’s probably not paying you much and all. But, well, consider your training an investment in your future.”
    â€œMy future cleaning toilets?”
    â€œYour future running a bakery. Or any business, really. You’ve got to understand how all the parts of the machine work before you can, you know, see it as a