welcoming…that is if you could use that word to describe a bait shop.
Herb came out several times to criticize the job, but he didn’t fool Tori. He’d also been suppressing the beginnings of a smile. Maybe he thought they could bring the business back, too.
They had to wait for the blocks to dry before they could start painting, and thanks to a stiff breeze off the bay, they hoped to start within the hour. They’d already distributed a drop cloth around the north side of the building, and were assembling cans of paint when the Dumpster arrived. They watched it get unloaded, and before the truck had even left the driveway they started heaving the trash bags into it.
A green Honda Civic pulled into the gravel lot and parked. An older woman, probably in her late sixties, got out. She opened the back door to her car and took out a cake carrier with a transparent dome. Inside was a chocolate frosted cake.
Tori recognized the lady as someone who had been at her grandmother’s funeral.
“Victoria!” she called.
Tori walked up to meet her. “Tori,” she said amiably, taking in the woman’s pale blue cotton-knit shirt with pink embroidered flowers around the neck, dark slacks, and black mules. She wore a triple string of pearls and matching earrings. “Hello. What can I do for you?”
“We met at Josie’s funeral the other day. I’m Irene Timmons. I heard you were staying with Herb for a few days. That’s so thoughtful of you. He must be terribly lonely with Josie gone.”
Tori frowned at the woman’s simpering tone. “He’s doing okay.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. Is he around?” she asked, her gaze straying to where Herb’s truck was parked near the house.
“He’s in the bait shop. It was so thoughtful of you to bring Gramps a cake. Would you like me to take it inside?”
Irene wrinkled her nose, but shook her head. “I think I’ll just take it to him, dear.”
Tori shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Irene headed for the bait shop. Kathy had finished tossing the trash into the Dumpster and was checking her phone for messages. She pocketed it when Tori joined her. “A neighborly visit?” she asked.
Tori nodded. “A friend of Grandma’s. She wanted to check up on Gramps.”
“I’ll bet.”
They headed back to the bait shop. Tori glanced inside. The cake sat on the counter, which seemed to be a buffer zone between Herb and his visitor. Irene was leaning against it, but Herb had retreated until he was standing with his back to a fishing lure display.
Tori picked up a screwdriver, intending to open one of the paint cans, when a battered blue pickup truck pulled up in the Cannon compound’s parking lot, coming to a halt in front of the Lotus Lodge. A tall and stocky black woman dressed in overalls, with foot-long dreadlocks, got out of it and stood before the building, just staring at it. She wasn’t fat; her taut, chiseled arm muscles hinted of hours of weight training and/or heavy physical labor.
“Why don’t you go see what she wants,” Kathy suggested. “I can get things going here.”
“Okay,” Tori said, and left her friend, who’d seemed to be getting antsy. She ambled over to the visitor and looked back. Kathy had already whipped out her cell phone. No doubt calling the real estate office about the wreck across the road. She shrugged and started back toward the newcomer. “Can I help you?” she called.
The woman turned to look at her. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she rubbed the back of her hand across the right one. “Just looking,” she said, and turned back to look at the motel.
Tori stepped closer. “Anissa?” she called.
The woman turned and nodded.
“It’s me, Tori.”
“Shut up,” the woman said and somehow managed a soggy laugh.
Tori wasn’t sure if her childhood friend would be receptive to a hug, but she held out her arms. Anissa practically fell into her embrace and began to weep, great heaving sobs.
“I’m so sorry,” Tori whispered
Herb came out several times to criticize the job, but he didn’t fool Tori. He’d also been suppressing the beginnings of a smile. Maybe he thought they could bring the business back, too.
They had to wait for the blocks to dry before they could start painting, and thanks to a stiff breeze off the bay, they hoped to start within the hour. They’d already distributed a drop cloth around the north side of the building, and were assembling cans of paint when the Dumpster arrived. They watched it get unloaded, and before the truck had even left the driveway they started heaving the trash bags into it.
A green Honda Civic pulled into the gravel lot and parked. An older woman, probably in her late sixties, got out. She opened the back door to her car and took out a cake carrier with a transparent dome. Inside was a chocolate frosted cake.
Tori recognized the lady as someone who had been at her grandmother’s funeral.
“Victoria!” she called.
Tori walked up to meet her. “Tori,” she said amiably, taking in the woman’s pale blue cotton-knit shirt with pink embroidered flowers around the neck, dark slacks, and black mules. She wore a triple string of pearls and matching earrings. “Hello. What can I do for you?”
“We met at Josie’s funeral the other day. I’m Irene Timmons. I heard you were staying with Herb for a few days. That’s so thoughtful of you. He must be terribly lonely with Josie gone.”
Tori frowned at the woman’s simpering tone. “He’s doing okay.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. Is he around?” she asked, her gaze straying to where Herb’s truck was parked near the house.
“He’s in the bait shop. It was so thoughtful of you to bring Gramps a cake. Would you like me to take it inside?”
Irene wrinkled her nose, but shook her head. “I think I’ll just take it to him, dear.”
Tori shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Irene headed for the bait shop. Kathy had finished tossing the trash into the Dumpster and was checking her phone for messages. She pocketed it when Tori joined her. “A neighborly visit?” she asked.
Tori nodded. “A friend of Grandma’s. She wanted to check up on Gramps.”
“I’ll bet.”
They headed back to the bait shop. Tori glanced inside. The cake sat on the counter, which seemed to be a buffer zone between Herb and his visitor. Irene was leaning against it, but Herb had retreated until he was standing with his back to a fishing lure display.
Tori picked up a screwdriver, intending to open one of the paint cans, when a battered blue pickup truck pulled up in the Cannon compound’s parking lot, coming to a halt in front of the Lotus Lodge. A tall and stocky black woman dressed in overalls, with foot-long dreadlocks, got out of it and stood before the building, just staring at it. She wasn’t fat; her taut, chiseled arm muscles hinted of hours of weight training and/or heavy physical labor.
“Why don’t you go see what she wants,” Kathy suggested. “I can get things going here.”
“Okay,” Tori said, and left her friend, who’d seemed to be getting antsy. She ambled over to the visitor and looked back. Kathy had already whipped out her cell phone. No doubt calling the real estate office about the wreck across the road. She shrugged and started back toward the newcomer. “Can I help you?” she called.
The woman turned to look at her. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she rubbed the back of her hand across the right one. “Just looking,” she said, and turned back to look at the motel.
Tori stepped closer. “Anissa?” she called.
The woman turned and nodded.
“It’s me, Tori.”
“Shut up,” the woman said and somehow managed a soggy laugh.
Tori wasn’t sure if her childhood friend would be receptive to a hug, but she held out her arms. Anissa practically fell into her embrace and began to weep, great heaving sobs.
“I’m so sorry,” Tori whispered
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