The desk clerk had greeted her with a big smile when she went to turn in the key this morning. For a moment she was confused and then relieved when the desk phone rang and he turned away. She dropped her room key on the desk and slipped out the door.
Her brother-in-law had loaned her his '47 Dodge, the one that had been sitting on his lot for weeks so she felt safe in driving it. If Bernard had reported her disappearance to the police, they'd be looking for her on the Greyhound bus or the train.
He didn't know she could drive, that Mildred had been taking her out to the old Smith place a couple of mornings each week to give her driving lessons. Turning the key on was the easy part. But she had a hard time getting her left foot and her right foot to work together.
The first few times they went out they had laughed so hard as the sedan lurched down the dirt road that they'd had to go make water behind the row of cedars.
No comments:
Post a Comment