and hands jittering, but he didn’t spill a drop of his drink. He moved near the windows that looked out onto the front porch. “You know, if you look out just right you can see my car.”
“Later,” Dale said.
“Yeah, sure.” He moved from the window.
“Seen Woody or anyone else?”
“You guys are the first I’ve seen,” Lonny said, moving to the bar and fixing another drink.
“I hope Woody shows up,” I said, then got up and fixed a new drink for me and one for Dale also. I handed Dale his icy glass, and as his left hand reached for it I noticed his wedding band was gone. I hesitated as he grasped the drink, almost not letting go, till his eyes met mine and I released it, feeling the cold beverage slide through my fingers. I looked away.
“How are things in Maine?” Dale asked Lonny.
“Great. Booming. The whole state’s booming. I’m selling cars left and right. I’m so damn busy, I’m up to my ass in alligators. You guys need new cars? I could fix you up with some beauties. You’ll look like big shots.”
“Maybe we already are big shots.”
“Yeah, of course. You guys must be doing great. What do you drive?”
“I’m in the middle of New York City, Lonny. Nothing but cabs and subways for me.”
“That must suck.”
“You get used to it.”
Lonny fixed himself another drink. “So, how’s your job down in Virginia?” he asked Dale.
Dale chuckled. “Well, actually, I’m between jobs right now, mulling over my next move.”
“Hmmn,” Lonny said, nodding, as if he understood. Damned if I knew what he meant.
I was about to say something when I felt a presence nearby and turned to the doorway. There stood a small man with a deeply receding hairline exposing a shiny scalp surrounded by wispy graying hairs. He wore circular, wire-rimmed glasses. It took me a moment to realize it was Martin Peak, but he reminded me of someone else, someone older. He stood there silent. His eyes were the only part of him that moved, shifting from one of us to the other.
“Martin,” I said, and didn’t know what else to say.
“You came,” he replied. I wasn’t sure whether it was directed to all of us, or someone in particular. He stepped into the room, hesitantly. “I wasn’t sure any of you would really come.”
“Wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Dale said with sarcasm.
Handshakes were exchanged. Martin’s was effortless.
More drinks were made. Martin only had soda water. Talk ensued, mostly about what everyone had been doing and, as it turned out, we found we did not lead the most exciting lives. I had a feeling this night was not going to get much better, that it was a mistake trying to recapture something that was so long ago. It was opening a door to the past that was probably best left closed.
When Oliver Rench strode into the room, his aura took hold of the place. The handshaking began again. When he got to me, his grip was firm. “Thorn, haven’t seen your name on the best-sellers list yet.”
“No, but it’s nice you’re keeping an eye out.” In that one line that he spoke ever-so-smugly, I was reminded of how unpleasant this man truly was and wondered how I ever could have considered him a friend. He was certainly the person I least wanted to see here today, if at all.
“Let me fix you a drink,” Lonny said and bounded off to the portable bar.
“Nice place I picked out,” Oliver said, scanning the surroundings. “They did a good job fixing this old dump up.”
Lonny came back with a drink for Oliver and a fresh one for himself.
“It’s amazing that anything in this town could change,” he continued.
“Not everybody cares for change,” Martin said, a surprising edge to his voice.
Oliver grinned. “That’s right. You’re the only one who stayed behind. You seem to be content here. I’m sure you’ll die in Malton, but not me. I made sure I got out. I’ve got more ambitious plans for my life. I was glad to leave this place behind.”
I noticed
“Later,” Dale said.
“Yeah, sure.” He moved from the window.
“Seen Woody or anyone else?”
“You guys are the first I’ve seen,” Lonny said, moving to the bar and fixing another drink.
“I hope Woody shows up,” I said, then got up and fixed a new drink for me and one for Dale also. I handed Dale his icy glass, and as his left hand reached for it I noticed his wedding band was gone. I hesitated as he grasped the drink, almost not letting go, till his eyes met mine and I released it, feeling the cold beverage slide through my fingers. I looked away.
“How are things in Maine?” Dale asked Lonny.
“Great. Booming. The whole state’s booming. I’m selling cars left and right. I’m so damn busy, I’m up to my ass in alligators. You guys need new cars? I could fix you up with some beauties. You’ll look like big shots.”
“Maybe we already are big shots.”
“Yeah, of course. You guys must be doing great. What do you drive?”
“I’m in the middle of New York City, Lonny. Nothing but cabs and subways for me.”
“That must suck.”
“You get used to it.”
Lonny fixed himself another drink. “So, how’s your job down in Virginia?” he asked Dale.
Dale chuckled. “Well, actually, I’m between jobs right now, mulling over my next move.”
“Hmmn,” Lonny said, nodding, as if he understood. Damned if I knew what he meant.
I was about to say something when I felt a presence nearby and turned to the doorway. There stood a small man with a deeply receding hairline exposing a shiny scalp surrounded by wispy graying hairs. He wore circular, wire-rimmed glasses. It took me a moment to realize it was Martin Peak, but he reminded me of someone else, someone older. He stood there silent. His eyes were the only part of him that moved, shifting from one of us to the other.
“Martin,” I said, and didn’t know what else to say.
“You came,” he replied. I wasn’t sure whether it was directed to all of us, or someone in particular. He stepped into the room, hesitantly. “I wasn’t sure any of you would really come.”
“Wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Dale said with sarcasm.
Handshakes were exchanged. Martin’s was effortless.
More drinks were made. Martin only had soda water. Talk ensued, mostly about what everyone had been doing and, as it turned out, we found we did not lead the most exciting lives. I had a feeling this night was not going to get much better, that it was a mistake trying to recapture something that was so long ago. It was opening a door to the past that was probably best left closed.
When Oliver Rench strode into the room, his aura took hold of the place. The handshaking began again. When he got to me, his grip was firm. “Thorn, haven’t seen your name on the best-sellers list yet.”
“No, but it’s nice you’re keeping an eye out.” In that one line that he spoke ever-so-smugly, I was reminded of how unpleasant this man truly was and wondered how I ever could have considered him a friend. He was certainly the person I least wanted to see here today, if at all.
“Let me fix you a drink,” Lonny said and bounded off to the portable bar.
“Nice place I picked out,” Oliver said, scanning the surroundings. “They did a good job fixing this old dump up.”
Lonny came back with a drink for Oliver and a fresh one for himself.
“It’s amazing that anything in this town could change,” he continued.
“Not everybody cares for change,” Martin said, a surprising edge to his voice.
Oliver grinned. “That’s right. You’re the only one who stayed behind. You seem to be content here. I’m sure you’ll die in Malton, but not me. I made sure I got out. I’ve got more ambitious plans for my life. I was glad to leave this place behind.”
I noticed
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