Chapter 21

Master Chef and Eveline bought the place.

"I hope cash will do?" she said. Smart girl ... she had an oversized purse.

Mrs. George, daughter of Mr. Johnson, he of the Mercury Sedan Delivery, said, "I'd be pleased to accept cash. My lawyer is on the way, Weatherford isn't far. Could you two wait and witness the sale?" That was to David and Wendy.

Of course, they said yes.

They all had tea on the huge veranda. It was a very genteel gathering that presented an interesting picture to a rather rotund and sweating attorney who toiled up the steps and sat in the sixth chair. He took his cellphone out of his pocket and laid it on the table. He wiped his brow with a red kerchief and poured himself a glass of tea from the cut glass pitcher. He drew off a large swallow.

To no one in particular but everyone in general he said, "seem like it gets hotter every year."

"Harvey? It's as hot this year as it was last year ... you're 20 pounds heavier," Mrs. George commented.

"Mrs. George, a pleasure, ma'am." You could tell it wasn't.

He nodded to Eveline, "Eve, nice to see you in personable surroundings." He'd like to see her surrounding his round, naked bottom with her long naked legs.

"Chef Perkins, are you here to witness the sale?" The last thing he wanted was local witnesses.

Each name brought forth a peculiar head bob.

"No, Sir. I'm here to buy the place, if Mrs. George will accept cash."

"Cash? Oh my." Not what he wanted to hear. No, sireebob. He had plans for the place.

"David? Could I speak to you." The two of them walked to the Mercury. 'He's going to try and stop the sale ... the Sheriff is in on it. You need to borrow his cellphone and disable it.'

"Mr. Perkins, could I speak to you for a moment?" Wendy asked.

David walked up to the veranda as the chef walked down to the truck. Wendy took his arm and led him to the far side of the truck.

"Act like you're arguing with me. Harvey is a crook, and we need to distract him."

Then she proceeded to do finger pointing and kicking up dust.

"Temperamental thing. Is she related to him?" Mr. Harvey was watching Wendy's bounce ... no bra.

David acted as requested, "Mr. Harvey? I need to make a call. May I borrow your phone. It's local."

Harvey waved his hand in acceptance, still watching Wendy and her bouncing interest collectors.

David dropped the cell in the pitcher of tea.

"Oops. Damn bees! Shit! Sorry ma'am. Mr. Harvey? I fumbled your phone. I'll buy you another. Let's all go to town. Wendy! We're going to have to run to town ... I dropped Mr. Harvey's cell in the tea."

In the end, they all went. Wendy suggested that might as well go to the courthouse ... since they were right there ... and transfer the deed. The courthouse was a lot farther than Weatherford, but Wendy was leading.

Oklahoma is tornado country. Mr. Harvey was hit by Tornado Wendy and got blown away.

The chef paid cash, the county clerk witnessed the sale. Harvey got a new phone and was left at the phone store while he tried to understand all the new features of his new phone. Not to mention what had gone wrong with his plans.

Mrs. George rode with Wendy in the stainless. There was a lot of talking in the Mercury, about the Mercury, and Mrs. George's no-account grandson.

David rode with Eveline and the Chef. They split at the split, David going to the restaurant to pick up his Dodge, Mrs. George and Wendy heading to the house, soon to be hotel.

Mrs. George directed Wendy around to the back of the house by way of a little used driveway. There, the kudzu neatly disguising the location, was a multi car garage. They both got out and walked to the side.

"Oh my. Damn stuff is gotten out of hand again. I just trimmed it back last week. Help me get this side door open."

There was a lot of tugging and tearing, Wendy fetched a machete from the Merc and flailed away with great precision. 10 minutes of hard work in the hot Oklahoma sun produced the door.

Mrs. George wiped her brow with the corner of her apron and offered the other corner to Wendy.

"I hope the electric still works," she hit the switch, "Well, how about that ... it does."

"Oh My God! It's the Ford! Your family bought them both?"

"They were a gift from Henry. He'd had a car breakdown in 1919 and my father fixed his car well enough to get it to Sheridan and the dealership there. I believe it was his son Edsel who reminded his dad of the obligation." Mrs. George continued her comment, "Personally, I think he wanted them out of sight, out of mind. Michigan was starting to salt the roads. And Detroit is undermined with salt."

A 1940 Ford Sedan Delivery with 'JOHNSON'S GENERAL STORE. UCROSS, WYOMING' in a fancy oval with gold trim 'Call 87 for Delivery', painted on the side was sitting dustily in the light of equally dusty 100 watt bulbs. It was up on blocks with the wheels elsewhere.

"Pretty ain't she, honey?" Mrs. George grinned. "Let's see if she'll start."

She lifted the ajar hood. walked to the passenger side and disconnected the trickle charger. She removed the oiled canvas sack over the oil bath air cleaner, took off the top and poured a little gasoline in the carb. She worked the throttle linkage a few times and fastened the air cleaner top back on.

"I keep Sta-bil gas preservative in the tank."

She poured a little gas in the tank and counted to ten while she opened the drivers side door and hopped in. She turned on the key, stepped on the starter button and gave her a good crank.

"Just like a week ago," she shouted over the obviously missing muffler. "Midas tells me I have to let her run long enough to boil out the moisture in the muffler. Rather than do that, I put the last replacement in that rack over there."

She waved a hand in the general direction of a rack of spare parts. Starters, generators, carburetors and miscellaneous parts greeted Wendy's eye.