The Yellow Packard by Ace Collins Page A

pretty much going to wipe out all their savings. It didn’t seem fair, and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Rose needed new clothes. He’d spent a bundle on tires and a new battery for the car, and Carole had been offered a chance to buy her cousin’s flower shop. It was something she really wanted to do, and he’d been happy to approve the deal a few days ago. But that was before he discovered the government had different plans for his modest savings.
    He had just written the check to the United States Treasury Department and sealed the envelope when Carole walked into the kitchen. She had a huge grin on her face. “Do I need to go to the bank to get the thousand for the down payment on the shop?”
    “Carole,” he quietly answered.
    For the first time in years she didn’t seem to notice the worry etched on his face or dripping from his tone. With hardly time for a breath she rattled on, “George, you have no idea how long I have wanted to own that shop. As a kid I would walk in there, and just smelling those flowers lifted me into the air. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world when I worked there in high school. And now that place will be mine. It won’t be Betty’s Flower Shop anymore; it will be Carole’s. And I can use the Packard to deliver flowers. And the best part is that Rose can stay with me at the shop.”
    He nodded. How was he going to break the news to her? Betty had to have the money. She and her husband were moving to the West Coast. That thousand dollars would pay Betty’s rent for months until they could get on their feet. He wouldn’t just be shattering his wife’s dream; he’d be derailing Betty and Frank’s plans, too. But what could he do? They didn’t have the money, and even if they cut way back, they wouldn’t have the money for several months now.
    “Listen, Carole.”
    Their toddler strolling into the house interrupted the speech George dreaded giving. “Hello, Daddy!”
    “Hey, Rosie,” he said, pulling the little girl up into his lap. “Where have you been?”
    “Playing out by the car.”
    George smiled. “You playing with your dolls in the garage?”
    “Yeah.” Rose laughed. “And playing with money, too.”
    Crawling down from his lap, Rose laid a doll and some crumbled paper on the table and moved off toward her room.
    “What an imagination!” He chuckled. “Wonder what she thought was money.”
    “Probably some play money from one of the board games you bought at that estate sale last year,” Carole said. “The one called The Landlord’s Game was filled with fake bills. Now, speaking of money, do I write a check to Aunt Betty, or do I get the money from the bank? Or do you want to do that?”
    George felt as if Joe Louis had punched him in the gut. This was going to be one of the toughest moments of his life. “Carole, about the money. I’ve been figuring our taxes, and …”
    “George, I’m sure you did a great job with that, too. You were always so good with numbers, but quit stalling around. I need to get going. Are you going to make me get down on my knees and beg, or are you just looking for a big old kiss?”
    “Carole …” His words failed him.
    “Oh, George,” she said, pushing by him to the spot where Rose had placed her doll. Moving the toy to one side, she picked up ten real one-hundred-dollar bills from a stack of yellow and blue play money. “Silly, why didn’t you tell me you already got the cash?” She glanced at her watch. “Aunt Betty’s waiting. I’ve got to run.” She pushed the bills into her purse and leaned over to kiss George on the cheek. “You play such games with me. I sure wish you’d have put these bills in your wallet rather than crumpling them in your pocket.” A few seconds later, before he could even question what had just happened, Carole was gone, the door slamming behind her as she rushed off to complete the most important transaction of her life.
    A stunned George looked across the