soda. “One of these?”
He hesitated. “I shouldn’t take the time. I don’t
want to get caught by the tide.”
But he looked like he wanted one. Hiking the beach
was thirsty work.
“I’ll get you one, and you can take it with you.”
She left, returned with the can and said, “If you don’t mind company, I’ll walk
to the beach with you.”
“Sure. And thanks.” He held up the drink as if to
say cheers.
They fell in step. He had gray-blue eyes and
sandy-blond hair, and topped her by no more than four or five inches. She had
no trouble keeping pace with him. “How’s business been? Does the store keep you
and your mom busy?”
“Not really. I spell her when she wants me to, but
it’s been kind of slow lately. I got a job busing tables at Sal’s. You ought to
go eat there one day. Good food. That and the hotel are the only places that
keep Chester Beach alive.”
“Maybe I will.”
He polished off the soda before they reached the
bluff, so she accepted the empty can to take back with her. He made it down the
steep trail as easily as she did. Maybe the smaller one was, the easier it was
to negotiate the path.
Before she got back to the house, she saw dust
rising on the road that signaled the arrival of a vehicle. But it wasn’t
Jonathan’s truck. It was a dented, dated sedan she didn’t recognize. This was
her day for company.
Cat was outside and tried to run away from the
vehicle by running in front of it. Sunny yelled a warning and raised her hand,
signaling for the driver to stop. He ignored the warning, and Cat made it
beyond the second front tire by a narrow margin. Sunny closed her eyes and blew
her breath out.
The car jerked to a stop, and a man got out and
stalked around the front of it. “I want to talk to your mother.”
“Huh?”
He squinted, possibly realizing she might be older
than she looked. “You that Corday woman?”
“My name is Laurel Corday,” she said coolly.
See how easy that was, Sunny? Now tell
Jonathan the same thing when he returns.
“What can I do for you?” She forced politeness into
her tone. “Mr...?”
She caught the odor of alcohol, probably beer. That
belly on him most likely had come straight out of a can. A sleeveless
undershirt exposed fleshy, hairy arms, but it at least covered his stomach.
She’d disliked him on sight because he’d almost killed Cat, and he hadn’t even
been paying enough attention to be aware of the close miss, and her dislike was
growing by the second. She backed up a step, in distaste rather than fear.
“Well, Miz Corday, I’m Langley Bowers and you been
spreadin’ lies about my two boys and I want you to stop it.”
“Who are your two boys, Mr. Bowers, and what lies
are you talking about?”
Maybe you shouldn’t have put those
questions together. He might not be able to handle two thoughts at the same
time.
“My boys are Toby and Langley, Jr., as you damn well
know.”
She gave him time, but he stopped there.
“And what lies are you talking about?” she prompted.
“You damn well know that, too. You told the sheriff
they was takin’ pot shots at you on your beach.”
“Listen carefully, Mr. Bowers. A bullet grazed my
head when I was on the beach. I reported that to the sheriff. I don’t know who
fired the bullet, and I told him so. I’ve never met your boys, nor have I heard
their names before. Is there anything else, or are you ready to go now?”
“You Cordays think you’re tough shit, just ’cause
you got money and a big name and a big house. It ain’t enough that your daddy
got to steal their mama away from my boys, but now you want to go and blacken
their names. And I’m not gonna let you get away with it.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Bowers. I didn’t understand that
part about their mama. Will you run that by me one more time?”
Though he made no menacing move, it occurred to her
that she was trading words with an angry drunk who was quite a bit bigger than
she was. She backed up another step,
He hesitated. “I shouldn’t take the time. I don’t
want to get caught by the tide.”
But he looked like he wanted one. Hiking the beach
was thirsty work.
“I’ll get you one, and you can take it with you.”
She left, returned with the can and said, “If you don’t mind company, I’ll walk
to the beach with you.”
“Sure. And thanks.” He held up the drink as if to
say cheers.
They fell in step. He had gray-blue eyes and
sandy-blond hair, and topped her by no more than four or five inches. She had
no trouble keeping pace with him. “How’s business been? Does the store keep you
and your mom busy?”
“Not really. I spell her when she wants me to, but
it’s been kind of slow lately. I got a job busing tables at Sal’s. You ought to
go eat there one day. Good food. That and the hotel are the only places that
keep Chester Beach alive.”
“Maybe I will.”
He polished off the soda before they reached the
bluff, so she accepted the empty can to take back with her. He made it down the
steep trail as easily as she did. Maybe the smaller one was, the easier it was
to negotiate the path.
Before she got back to the house, she saw dust
rising on the road that signaled the arrival of a vehicle. But it wasn’t
Jonathan’s truck. It was a dented, dated sedan she didn’t recognize. This was
her day for company.
Cat was outside and tried to run away from the
vehicle by running in front of it. Sunny yelled a warning and raised her hand,
signaling for the driver to stop. He ignored the warning, and Cat made it
beyond the second front tire by a narrow margin. Sunny closed her eyes and blew
her breath out.
The car jerked to a stop, and a man got out and
stalked around the front of it. “I want to talk to your mother.”
“Huh?”
He squinted, possibly realizing she might be older
than she looked. “You that Corday woman?”
“My name is Laurel Corday,” she said coolly.
See how easy that was, Sunny? Now tell
Jonathan the same thing when he returns.
“What can I do for you?” She forced politeness into
her tone. “Mr...?”
She caught the odor of alcohol, probably beer. That
belly on him most likely had come straight out of a can. A sleeveless
undershirt exposed fleshy, hairy arms, but it at least covered his stomach.
She’d disliked him on sight because he’d almost killed Cat, and he hadn’t even
been paying enough attention to be aware of the close miss, and her dislike was
growing by the second. She backed up a step, in distaste rather than fear.
“Well, Miz Corday, I’m Langley Bowers and you been
spreadin’ lies about my two boys and I want you to stop it.”
“Who are your two boys, Mr. Bowers, and what lies
are you talking about?”
Maybe you shouldn’t have put those
questions together. He might not be able to handle two thoughts at the same
time.
“My boys are Toby and Langley, Jr., as you damn well
know.”
She gave him time, but he stopped there.
“And what lies are you talking about?” she prompted.
“You damn well know that, too. You told the sheriff
they was takin’ pot shots at you on your beach.”
“Listen carefully, Mr. Bowers. A bullet grazed my
head when I was on the beach. I reported that to the sheriff. I don’t know who
fired the bullet, and I told him so. I’ve never met your boys, nor have I heard
their names before. Is there anything else, or are you ready to go now?”
“You Cordays think you’re tough shit, just ’cause
you got money and a big name and a big house. It ain’t enough that your daddy
got to steal their mama away from my boys, but now you want to go and blacken
their names. And I’m not gonna let you get away with it.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Bowers. I didn’t understand that
part about their mama. Will you run that by me one more time?”
Though he made no menacing move, it occurred to her
that she was trading words with an angry drunk who was quite a bit bigger than
she was. She backed up another step,
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