The work order said Halvorsen, G., Juniper Court HOA. Reason for tow: inoperable vehicle.
“It’s not inoperable,” I said.
“No, ma’am. It started on the first turn. I drove it up onto the flatbed myself. Didn’t even need the winch.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He called me Friday, said it was an abandoned junker. The HOA has an account here. I should’ve asked more questions.”
The tow was three hundred eighty-five dollars. Storage was forty-five dollars a day. I had my checkbook out.
Gus put his big hand flat on top of it.
“Leave it here,” he said. “No charge. You go fight with that man, and when you’re done, you call me and I’ll bring it home.”
Irene Has a Question About the Budget
Irene Gundersen lives at the end of the court in a brown rambler with bird feeders. She was eighty-four that winter, and she walked her old dachshund, Gizmo, around the circle twice a day whether it was forty degrees or forty below.
