Fixed up in February (Spring River Valley Book 2) by Clarice Wynter Read Free Book Online Page B

shimmer. He really wanted to photograph her, but he was sure if he told her that she’d call the cops on him. “Yeah, that’s it. I crave approval.”
    “Well, why don’t you start craving my approval? You can do that by taking Nana to the hairdresser on Saturday.”
    “I have a wedding Saturday.”
    “Her appointment is at nine a.m. You’ll have plenty of time to take her and get to the wedding.”
    “Not really, I—”
    “Approval, Max. Besides, do this and I’ll call Audrey again and sing your prais—”
    The call-waiting tone on his phone beeped then, cutting off part of Cassie’s sentence. “Okay, fine. I’ll work it out. I’ve got another call, talk to you later.” He hung up and switched over to the other call, hoping it might be Audrey, even though he hadn’t given her his studio number.
    “Shannon Studios.”
    “Hey, Max, you busy right now?” It was Jared.
    “Just fiddling with the computer, why?”
    “I’m at work, and I just got a call from Bailey Cole over at the paper.”
    “She’s in Classifieds, right?”
    “Yeah, but she heard from one of the reporters, their photographer is out sick today, and there’s something going on over by the bridge. A car got stuck, somebody tried to drive over while it was opening up. They need a photographer ASAP. Can you get there? Tell them… you’re with Chad Marchand .”
    “ Chad Marchand , that’s the reporter?”
    “I don’t know, that’s what Bailey told me to tell you. Hurry up before they get the car down.”
    “I’m on my way.”
     
    * * * *
     
    The ride to the Harbor Bridge seemed to take forever, and the closer Max got, the more traffic backed up. Finally, he pulled to the side of the road about a block away and jumped out, camera in hand. From there, he could see what had happened. It was actually a staggeringly common thing, though more so over the summer when teenagers got cocky and thought they could jump the bridge. Someone had ignored the stop signal at the entrance of the bridge and gone over as it began to open up to allow the passage of a boat. Now the aging Buick hung with its front tires over the edge of the open bridge. The driver, who could be seen sitting very still behind the wheel, looked to be somewhat older than a teenager and not in any immediate danger.
    Police officers, EMTs, and bridge crew milled around, trying to decide whether to lower the bridge, which would no doubt seriously damage the car, before or after rescuing the man.
    Max took a few telephoto shots then worked his way toward the barriers the police had set up. A man there jotting notes wore the logo for the Spring River Valley Herald on is jacket.
    “I got a call, someone needed a photographer,” Max said as he approached.
    The man looked up. “How did you know?”
    “Uh… Bailey Cole ?”
    “Oh, okay. I’m Chad Marchand. I’m covering the story. Seems Mr. Earl Dochanti, age seventy-two, ignored the signal and blew past the safety gate. He’ll be the oldest person on record. Average age for that stunt is twenty-two.”
    Max shook Chad’s hand and introduced himself. “I’ve already taken a few shots from back there. I’ll see if I can get a little closer from the service—”
    “Whoa!” A collective gasp went up around them, and instinctively Max raised his camera and pointed it toward the bridge where Mr. Dochanti had opened his car door and stuck his foot out.
    “Sir, do not attempt to leave the vehicle!” The bull-horn-enhanced voice of a police officer rang out. Max snapped dozens of shots while the EMTs swarmed. He got photos of the cops conversing, Mr. Dochanti’s booted foot struggling for purchase on the icy bridge surface and members of the bridge crew motioning to each other to begin the painstaking process of lowering the bridge at half speed so as not to dislodge the car and send it careening backward into the police barriers.
    As bad as Max felt for the elderly man, he couldn’t tamp down the wild excitement in