Page 73 of Haunt Me

Marge laughs. "Honey, I think we're going to get along just fine."

"I have a picture."

"You do?"

I pull out my phone, unlock it, and turn the screen toward her. "There she is."

The scooter fills the display, the pink paint practically glowing in the afternoon sun.

Marge takes the phone from my hand. "Well, I'll be."

She angles the screen toward the kitchen. "Eddie. Come look at this."

A gray-haired man pokes his head through the pass-through window. "What?"

"Our newest regular bought herself a scooter."

He squints at the picture. "It's pink."

"I noticed.”

He shrugs. "Good color. Easier to find in a parking lot."

Marge laughs and hands my phone back. "I like it."

“You do?"

"I do." She grins. "Takes a certain amount of confidence to buy a pink scooter in a town full of motorcycles and pickup trucks."

Marge sets the coffee pot down. "Where'd you find it?"

"The garage near the laundromat."

"Blackwater?"

I nod. A flicker of uncertainty works its way into my stomach. "I hope it’s a reputable place.”

Marge smiles, the question clearly amusing her. "It is."

"I didn't exactly ask a lot of questions before I handed over my credit card."

"You'll be fine." She reaches for the coffee pot again. "I know the owner. Jon Sutter."

"The older man with the gray beard?"

"That's him."

"He was kind."

“He’s a good man.” Her expression shifts, the change so slight I almost missed it. “He’s been through a lot lately.”

There’s something behind the words, but Marge doesn’t offer more, and I don’t ask. Ashbourne may be small enough that everyone knows everyone, but that doesn’t mean their stories belong to me.

“He said he’d hold the scooter while I get my license.”

“Then you’d better study.”

“That’s my plan.”