The Road to Glory Read Online Free Page B

Mrs. Amos nodded. "Mavis told me she was a pretty thing about your age, driving a big red truck, if you can imagine that."
    "That she was."
    "Pretty or driving a big red truck?"
    "Both," RJ allowed begrudgingly.
    "Did you speak with her?"
    "Not all that much." RJ shifted the bags in her arms. What did she buy? Bricks? "There were logs to be split. I was busy."
    "I see," she snipped. "You’re always too busy taking care of other things before yourself, aren’t you, RJ? Looking out for other folks first, that’s what you do. You know, you might want to look around you and see that it’s okay to take care of yourself once in a while."
    RJ sighed quietly. "Yes, ma’am." God, my mother’s been visiting with her too often! "But you know that my parents raised me right."
    "That they did, dear." Mrs. Amos patted RJ’s hand as the women slowed even further so two little girls on bicycles could zoom across the sidewalk in front of them. "You’ve always been a delight, except for those wicked puberty years, of course."
    RJ smiled insincerely.
    "Occasionally you just have to take time for yourself. I’m sure this lady wouldn’t mind," she stroked Flea lovingly, and RJ swore she saw the cat stick her tongue out at her.
    "I’ll remember, I’ll remember. But sometimes It’s easier said than done, Mrs. Amos." It’s not like Glory is chock full of eligible women who can’t resist my significant charms, now is it? "But if the chance should arise again, I’ll certainly think on it." Hell, even if the chance doesn’t present itself again anytime soon, I’ll be thinking about the blonde.
    "You do that, Ruth Jean."
    After delivering Mrs. Amos and her shopping safely home, RJ headed over to the hardware store to pick up the paint that would be required to spruce up the dining room in her parents’ house.
    She looked down at her furry little companion. "This place is going to be just like the last, you know?"
    Flea licked her lips. More root beer?
    "Well," RJ huffed, placing her fists on her hips. "Glad to know you’re on my side in all of this, pal. You could stand to be just a little more encouraging."
    This time Flea ignored RJ completely. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand it was a whiny human. Wasn’t it nap time again?
    At Flea’s obvious snub, RJ said, "Thanks so much." Shaking her head, she entered the store.
    "Good morning, RJ," the woman behind the counter offered as RJ came through the door. She turned down the blaring radio.
    "Mornin’, Mrs. Morgan. I’ve come to fetch the paint for my mother."
    "It’s all boxed up and ready for you. I put it on your tab." Alice Morgan gestured with her chin. "Right there by the door. A gallon of robin’s egg blue and a quart of trim paint. I imagine you’ll be busy for a few days."
    RJ smiled and nodded as she looked into the crate. She was grateful that it seemed that at least one person wasn’t interested in what had happened at the diner yesterday.
    Alice leaned forward and whispered loudly to RJ, "I also slipped that new red shirt I made for you into the box. You might want to wear it down to the diner next time you go. I’m betting the trucker would like you in a red shirt."
    RJ’s shoulders slumped. So much for that theory.
     
    *  *  *
     
    One end of Leigh’s route started in South Dakota. It ran from Sioux Falls to Rapid City, to Buffalo, Wyoming, and then into Montana. From Billings she went to Helena and Missoula and ended in Seattle, Washington, before she turned around and drove back. Three ten-hour days of driving from end to end if Leigh didn’t count traffic, construction, detours, poor weather or the occasional need to pee. Then a half day in Seattle and Sioux Falls to load, unload and load her cargo again, and she was back on the road. It was a grueling, endless loop that Leigh ran for three weeks straight then took a full week off.
    It wasn’t the type of run most people could handle on a continuous basis, but Leigh’s clients paid premium