give all this stuff to.”
Dawn glanced at the cypress clock propped against a wall and a uniquely styled chair with a cypress slab seat, two of the rare pieces that were finished and now gathering dust. “Instead of giving them away, you should sell them,” she advised. The garage contained everything from handmade furniture to lamps to polished pieces of driftwood and sculptures made out of shells and carved wood.
“It wouldn’t be fair.” He shrugged aside the craftsmanship of the products. “It’s just something I do to pass the time.”
“Puttering or not, it’s better than some of the stuff I’ve seen in the shops,” Dawn declared,then turned her gaze toward the driveway. “I wonder where Randy is.”
Her father laid a hand on her shoulder in an affectionate gesture that also pushed her toward the house. “He’ll be here directly. He probably just lost track of the time. But don’t worry, that bottomless stomach of his will soon be reminding him it’s supper time.”
Dawn let herself be guided to the house, but she was still bothered by Randy’s absence.
A quarter of an hour later, all the food was ready to be dished up and served. Her father had returned to the kitchen from washing his hands and took his customary chair at the head of the table. Dawn was growing impatient and irritated at her son’s tardiness.
“Isn’t Randy here yet?” her father asked.
“No.” Her hands were on her hips, betraying the suppressed anger with her stance, as she looked out the rear screen door for the umpteenth time.
“It’s all right,” her mother insisted. “We can keep the food hot a while longer.”
“It is not all right, Mother,” Dawn retorted. “Randy knows what time we have supper. It’s rude and thoughtless of him to keep us waiting.”
“I’m sure he’s probably having such a good time playing with his new friends that he just hasn’t realized how late it is.” Her mother provided an excuse for the absent Randy. “It isn’t like him to deliberately stay gone without a reason.”
Once Dawn would have agreed with that, because Randy had always been well-mannered and considerate of others. But, since Simpson had died, there had been a couple of isolated incidents when Randy had been deliberately uncaring of the inconvenience he had caused others. She didn’t know whether it was a phase he was going through or if he was testing her authority now that Simpson wasn’t around to enforce the rules.
“We’ve already waited supper almost an hour for him,” Dawn reminded her mother. “It will be ruined if you try to keep it hot any longer. You two go ahead and eat. I’m going out to look for Randy.”
“There’s no need for that,” her father inserted. “Sooner or later, he’s going to come home. When he does, he’ll have to eat a cold supper. That will be a good lesson for a boy with Randy’s appetite.”
But if it was discipline he was unconsciously seeking by staying away—proof that Dawn cared enough for him—then the passive punishment of a cold supper would not accomplish anything. She couldn’t begin to guess the motive behind his absence, if there was one, but she intended to find out.
“Maybe so, but I’m going out to look for him just the same,” she stated.
“Aren’t you going to have supper with us first?” her mother protested as Dawn started out the door.
“No,” she paused long enough to answer. “Anddon’t bother to save anything for Randy and me. I’ll fix us something to eat when we come back.”
The three most logical places where Randy might be tarrying were the beach, the marina, or the area of Old Town. All of them were within walking distance, but Dawn decided she could cover the areas more quickly by car.
The first two were easy. She drove slowly past the public beach areas. Most of the bathers had forsaken the sand now that the sun was hanging low in the sky and the dinner hour had arrived. The same was true at the marina. The
Dawn glanced at the cypress clock propped against a wall and a uniquely styled chair with a cypress slab seat, two of the rare pieces that were finished and now gathering dust. “Instead of giving them away, you should sell them,” she advised. The garage contained everything from handmade furniture to lamps to polished pieces of driftwood and sculptures made out of shells and carved wood.
“It wouldn’t be fair.” He shrugged aside the craftsmanship of the products. “It’s just something I do to pass the time.”
“Puttering or not, it’s better than some of the stuff I’ve seen in the shops,” Dawn declared,then turned her gaze toward the driveway. “I wonder where Randy is.”
Her father laid a hand on her shoulder in an affectionate gesture that also pushed her toward the house. “He’ll be here directly. He probably just lost track of the time. But don’t worry, that bottomless stomach of his will soon be reminding him it’s supper time.”
Dawn let herself be guided to the house, but she was still bothered by Randy’s absence.
A quarter of an hour later, all the food was ready to be dished up and served. Her father had returned to the kitchen from washing his hands and took his customary chair at the head of the table. Dawn was growing impatient and irritated at her son’s tardiness.
“Isn’t Randy here yet?” her father asked.
“No.” Her hands were on her hips, betraying the suppressed anger with her stance, as she looked out the rear screen door for the umpteenth time.
“It’s all right,” her mother insisted. “We can keep the food hot a while longer.”
“It is not all right, Mother,” Dawn retorted. “Randy knows what time we have supper. It’s rude and thoughtless of him to keep us waiting.”
“I’m sure he’s probably having such a good time playing with his new friends that he just hasn’t realized how late it is.” Her mother provided an excuse for the absent Randy. “It isn’t like him to deliberately stay gone without a reason.”
Once Dawn would have agreed with that, because Randy had always been well-mannered and considerate of others. But, since Simpson had died, there had been a couple of isolated incidents when Randy had been deliberately uncaring of the inconvenience he had caused others. She didn’t know whether it was a phase he was going through or if he was testing her authority now that Simpson wasn’t around to enforce the rules.
“We’ve already waited supper almost an hour for him,” Dawn reminded her mother. “It will be ruined if you try to keep it hot any longer. You two go ahead and eat. I’m going out to look for Randy.”
“There’s no need for that,” her father inserted. “Sooner or later, he’s going to come home. When he does, he’ll have to eat a cold supper. That will be a good lesson for a boy with Randy’s appetite.”
But if it was discipline he was unconsciously seeking by staying away—proof that Dawn cared enough for him—then the passive punishment of a cold supper would not accomplish anything. She couldn’t begin to guess the motive behind his absence, if there was one, but she intended to find out.
“Maybe so, but I’m going out to look for him just the same,” she stated.
“Aren’t you going to have supper with us first?” her mother protested as Dawn started out the door.
“No,” she paused long enough to answer. “Anddon’t bother to save anything for Randy and me. I’ll fix us something to eat when we come back.”
The three most logical places where Randy might be tarrying were the beach, the marina, or the area of Old Town. All of them were within walking distance, but Dawn decided she could cover the areas more quickly by car.
The first two were easy. She drove slowly past the public beach areas. Most of the bathers had forsaken the sand now that the sun was hanging low in the sky and the dinner hour had arrived. The same was true at the marina. The
Similar Books
