The rear tire was still hissing air when we surveyed it. “We’re lucky this happened before the wheel rim was damaged,” Dallas pointed out. He gave me five dollars to buy take-out coffee while he had the tire changed. I purchased two 16 oz. cups of hazelnut decaf and two six-inch Snickerdoodles, and was delighted to find Molly Jamison, my best friend from school days, at the till. For years, she had been my persistent math tutor and an occasional date procurer, but our contact faded when she married a few years ago. When I gave her a hug, I noticed her baby bump, and for several minutes, we played catch-up, vowing to keep in touch more often. “Katie-cat, you’re on an actual date?” She squealed, craning her neck to scan a look at Dallas supervising the tire change outside. “Not bad,” she growled, giving me a thumbs-up. “Where did you find him?” “He’s a cop,” I whispered, hoping she’d take the clue to lower her voice. Thankfully, no other customers were at the register, and at the hour, only one or two at the back of the store.
