Emily's Seams

I had heard Angus coughing up a lung later that morning. It sounded like he was dying. I decided to let him pick the car.

He chose a 1962 Oldsmobile 98 convertible. We must have been at the dealers for close to three hours. Angus drove the car, then haggled. Checked under the hood, then haggled. Drove it again, then haggled some more. He got the car down from eleven thousand to thirty-five hundred.

“How’d you manage that?”

Angus shrugged. “This is a beautiful car but it runs like shit. That asshole was trying to pawn it off on some poor sucker just because it has some shiny paint and he managed to get the top working. It’s alright though, I’ll work on it for a bit tonight and by tomorrow it’ll be good to go.”

“I don’t have any tools.”

Angus stopped and thought about that for a minute. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Look, I’m gonna drop you at home and get this bucket taken care of, alright? I might be home late.”

I didn’t see him again until the next morning.

“Hey Em! That car is gonna run like a champ!”

I shuffled over to the kitchen table and sat down to another morning latte and pastry. It was kind of nice having breakfast waiting for me. I wouldn’t have eaten otherwise.

“Where’d you get the tools from?” I asked.

“Oh hell, I just borrowed them.”

“From who? You don’t know anyone around here, do you?”

“No, no. There’s this garage just over on 4th. I talked to the owner for a bit about the car, and he let me borrow the tools.”

“Aren’t those, like, really expensive?”

He nodded. “I’m sure they are, but he was an alright guy. Just told him I was from out of town, just bought this for my niece and realized it needed a bit of work. Took him out for some beers afterwards, sorry I got home so late.”

Just then, Mr. Puggums sauntered, and I mean sauntered, into the kitchen. He let out an ungodly mew and whole-heartedly ran himself along Angus’s calf.

“Shit! I totally forgot about him! What are we gonna do with him?”

Angus looked at me like I was stupid. “What’d ya mean? He’s coming!”

“What? You can’t bring a cat on a road trip, they hate cars. Besides, he is freakin’ old!”

Angus bent down and patted the old cat on the head a few times. The cowboy being sweet to a cat was a strange sight but so endearing.

“Nope, he’s coming. It’s his owner we’re sending out. He should be there for that.”

Just the way Angus said it...that’s that. A fleshed out spook, a cat on the thin side of its ninth life, and me. What a crew.

“Is there anything else I can do for you today, Ms. Cameron?”

I shook my head. “No, this is good. Thanks.”

I tucked the hundreds of American dollars away, stowed my new debit card and smiled at the nice lady at the counter.

As I turned around from the teller, I noticed a very tall man walking towards me. He was in his fifties but a good, healthy fifties.

“Ms. Cameron, how do you do?” he said as he stretched a hand out to me.

I must have looked at it like it was a used tissue.

“Pardon me, I’m Mr. Wilson. I’ve worked with your family for some time now.”

I nodded and reluctantly took his hand. “Hi.”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry to hear about Judith. She was a lovely woman.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Please pass my condolences on to Julia as well.”

I hadn’t been expecting that. “Excuse me?”

He looked confused. “Your sister, Julia?”

“How do you know Julia?”

“Well, uh...like I said, I’ve worked with your family for years.”

I nodded. “Really? Well, if we were such important clientele, you’d be aware of the fact that Julia has been dead for three years. Have a good day.”

I rushed past him and out the door of Westpoint. I knew it wasn’t his fault for not knowing but I couldn’t rationalize the anger I felt. When Julia died, my life had been blown into a thousand little pieces. The thought of someone not having even noticed her passing was almost too much to handle.