Rocky Point Reunion by Barbara McMahon Page A

Walter Pogral, a longtime friend of her father’s.
    â€œHey, Walt, how are you?”
    â€œDoing good. Your dad get his car fixed?”
    â€œI didn’t know anything was wrong with it,” she said.
    â€œConked out on him in Portland last week. Called me to get him. Wondered how he got back to Portland to get the car when the shop there had it repaired. I haven’t seen him all week.”
    â€œI saw him yesterday. He didn’t mention anything about it.”
    â€œGuess he got another friend to take him back up to Portland.” He looked at Zack.
    â€œAren’t you Patrick and Molly’s boy, the younger one, right? Zachariah?”
    Zack nodded and stood to offer his hand. “I am.”
    â€œI thought you didn’t live here, only Joe.”
    â€œI’m back.”
    â€œAh, good. Sure have missed your dad all these years. Well, I’ll be heading for my table. Tell your dad I asked after him, Marcie.”
    â€œSure will, Walt. Thanks for rescuing him.” When the elderly man moved across the restaurant to sit at a small table next to the window, she looked at Zack as he sat back down.
    â€œWonder why Dad didn’t call me,” she murmured.
    â€œMaybe he knew you’d be busy and Walt wasn’t.”
    â€œI didn’t even know he went to Portland last week,” she mused.
    â€œSo? You two don’t live in the same house anymore. Why would you?”
    She looked at him. “It just seems strange, that’s all. He never mentioned it.” It felt odd to know she was not in the loop with her father’s life. He hadn’t mentioned it. As Zack said, why would he, necessarily? Still, she wished she knew more.
    Suzette arrived with a heaping platter of scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns and biscuits. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything,” she said with a flirtatious grin. She looked at Marcie. “Want anything?”
    â€œNo, thanks.” She rose, the innocent questions lingering in her mind. What did she really want?
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    Zack watched her walk to the swinging door leading to the kitchen. He wished she’d stayed long enough to visit while he ate. The food was delicious. It was good to be back home where breakfast was what he was used to. Too many continental breakfasts to count.
    Three more people stopped by to chat a few minutes. But he didn’t see Marcie again before he left.
    He headed for Joe’s shop down near the docks and the cars that waited. The vintage automobiles were easy to work on, and a change from the turbocharged machines he’d been dealing with. These were basic engines, even simplistic. Get the engines running, repair the body and interior and the cars were good for another fifty to one hundred years. And with Joe’s reputation, he earned top dollar.
    â€œHi, Mr. Kincaid.”
    Turning, Zack saw Sean O’Connell hurrying to catch up. The teen was dressed in the ubiquitous jeans and darkT-shirt, running shoes on his feet. His hair was nicely trimmed, and he looked eager. For a moment Zack saw a touch of hero worship reflected in Sean’s eyes.
    â€œCall me Zack,” he said when the boy reached him. He began walking again.
    â€œThanks. I, uh, wondered if you thought about giving me pointers,” the boy said, falling into step with Zack.
    â€œYeah. I asked around about a course or large parking area. Might be a possibility in Monkesville. Which means we could get some actual driving practice in, not just theory.”
    â€œHey, that’s cool.” His face lit up in excitement, but an instant later he frowned, as if showing enthusiasm wasn’t cool. “Is it true you’re moving back here? I mean, I heard you raced all over Europe. This place has to be pretty quiet after that. There’s nothing to do.”
    â€œIt’s home,” Zack said, remembering feeling the same way when he’d been eighteen. Maturity changed his view.