Chapter 4: Back Home Again
It took a couple of days for things to settle down, but soon enough, Daddy 'n' I was back to runnin' the garage. Now while I was away, Tucker had bought another garage up in Fort Sumner, on Highway 60. It was a real good place for a station, an' he got it cheap, he said. We was on Highway 20, near the junction of 285, so it was a good place to be as well. My legs weren't all healed up yet, so I had to set a spell now 'n' then. But most times, I could get work done timely like.
I found out later that Tucker bought that station 'cause he didn't figure there'd be enough work for us all right off. With all the rationin' an' shortages, people wasn't travellin' as much, so we didn't have as many customers. He was right, an' I came to realize Tucker was darn near as smart as Daddy. He still owned half the station, so we'd see him regular like, but he had some work to do to get the new station back up 'n' runnin' good.
Tucker was a few years older than Daddy, but you'd never know it. He was wire thin, jackrabbit quick, an' movin' every minute of the day. Daddy said he was the best man he ever seen with financin' an' other money matters. More than once he helped Daddy with his taxes to make sure he weren't payin' too much. He told Daddy about all them loopholes he said that Daddy should use. Well, accordin' to Daddy, he saved a whole mess of taxes thanks to Tucker.
It took a couple of years before things got back to bein' where they were before the war. After that, they just got better 'n' better. They were makin' an' sellin' new cars again. Gas was plentiful 'n' cheap. Best of all, we found a feller sellin' old Army vehicles. We got ourselves a four-ton wrecker dirt cheap. Now we could handle them big new highway trucks that was showin' up. We always had a spare battery, a couple of jerry cans of gas, an' a heavy duty winch on the front to look after most emergencies.
My love life weren't nothin' to talk about, though. Busted Branch was a small town, an' the pickin's were mighty slim. I had some good memories of my days in England 'n' France, but that was years ago now, an' I'd been gettin' a little tired of this dry spell. Besides, I was already thirty years old. Time to be gettin' on with things.
Now, like I said before, there weren't nobody who didn't know who Wanda at the Sip 'n Bite was. Sam Turner was the owner 'n' cook. Six days a week, breakfast 'n' lunch, Sam was back in the kitchen, fixin' the food. He was darn good at it too. He could whip up a mess of eggs, ham, hash browns, 'n' toast in no time at all. Everybody said his chicken-fried steak was the best in the county.
But Sam never had it so good 'till Wanda answered the advertisement for a waitress in the front window of the cafe. Wanda had been a waitress before Wally showed up, so she knew what to do. Sam hired her right on the spot, supposin' she didn't know what the hell to do. He could see she was goin' to bring in customers by the carload, at least for a spell. When it turned out she was a darn good waitress to boot, well ... he just knew he was goin' to do fine.
When Wally took off, Sam was worried Wanda might leave too. But it didn't happen. He gave her a nice raise, an' she was grateful, an' she was stayin' for now. For the next two years, Wanda turned down more dates than the Army has boots. I was goin' in regular for breakfast now. Ma 'n' Daddy had bought the old McAlister place just on the edge of town an' moved in there. I decided to stay in the apartment above the garage. It just made sense, I figured.
I couldn't help but notice Wanda when she served me every mornin'. We got to talkin' now 'n' then, an' she was a nice lady with a hard luck story. Wally had taken every dime she had when he took off, an' that's when I figured he weren't never comin' back. I didn't say so to Wanda. I didn't want t' hurt her feelin's. Over time, we got to bein' friendly with each other, but nothin' more than that. She was still holdin' out for Wally, an' I was too scared to ask her out or anythin'. Then, like I already told you, everythin' changed.
