hats and scarves were currently a necessary addition to their light jackets.
“We’re going to the Dallas Farmers Market and then to that wonder-world grocery store, Central Market at Greenville and Lovers,” she told Sonny. “Mr. Masters doesn’t want us taking a bus so could you get us a cab?”
“I can do you one better. There’s a van bringing back one of our elderly residents from a doctor’s appointment at any moment. The driver’s name is Gus Genovese. He’s older himself, but far healthier. He’ll drive you through the stalls and you can keep your purchases in the car while you shop. Gus has been taking care of people in this building for almost six years now.”
“That’s wonderful. He doesn’t have other appointments today?”
“Nothing on the log. It’s early in the season. Once the cold sets in and flu season, and church holiday and party events, you have to book further in advance. But I think for you three, he’ll always make the time. Gus is a widower, a self-made man.”
“He sounds like an answer to a prayer for me,” Sabrina replied. “What a relief that I won’t have to try to call for a ride back. Let me quickly get their car seats.”
Gus turned out to be a young sixty-eight. A New Jersey transplant, he’d sold his truck refrigeration conversion business after the death of his wife Emily. With no children and too much free time on his hands, he found his independent shuttling service perfect for this stage in his life.
“You can only sit at home and watch so much TV,” he explained after they got the girls settled in the second row of van seats. “My wife had the green thumb. Me, I can’t grow weeds. I don’t like clubs and social organizations. Seemed like whenever I walked through the front door of a place, I was being sized up by the hungry widows, or asked to attend a funeral. Don’t get me wrong, I like the ladies, but it would be hard to match my Emmy, and I’m not interested in spending the rest of my life in a funeral home or cemetery. You get to a certain age, you start giving yourself permission to be particular with whom you spend your time.”
“That makes sense to me.” Sabrina glanced back at Gena and Addie. “I do appreciate your help with their forward-facing car seats—and your patience.”
“They’re adorable kids, and very well mannered. I can see you’re doing a good job with them, Mrs. Masters.” “It’s Sabrina. Sabrina Sinclair. I’m the nanny.” “So, Mr. and Mrs. Masters both work in demanding fields?”
“Captain Masters, the girls’ mother, just left for Afghanistan. She’s a helicopter pilot.”
“What is this world coming to? Bless her.”
“Her brother offered to take in the girls and hired me.”
“Well, you’re still doing a great job. I have an eye for these things,” he said touching his right index finger to his temple. “Now tell me…what are we looking for at the Farmers Market?”
Sabrina showed him her list, which included gourds and small pumpkins, and Indian corn to make a centerpiece, then vegetables for soup, some spinach and plants for a mini kitchen herb garden.
Gus was taken aback. “You’re more than a nanny.”
“I grew up on a Wisconsin farm. I’m handy.”
“You have that fresh, wholesome look. It’s very good to see. These days I run in to professional people—people who you can have an intelligent conversation with—who have no idea how to boil an egg, and can’t tell you what their grandparents’ names are, what they did and where they came from.”
“I left the farm hoping to become a professional,” Sabrina quipped.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Gus said with a shake of his head. “Just don’t make it all you are.”
As they parked in the first barn, the girls thought the pigeons walking between the cars had followed them from the condo. Gus patiently told them that they were “cousins.” Thereafter, every bird was greeted with, “Hi, cousin! Bye, cousin!” The girls also thought that the mounted police should offer them a free ride on their “ponies,” but they weren’t able to charm their way into making that happen. Overall they were well behaved and enjoyed the outing.
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