AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes, son. As soon as a space opens up. But you may have to wait until after Christmas.” I don’t have the heart to tell him we may have to leave town.
We pick up premade sandwiches from a convenience store on our way over to Sandy Island. After we have our picnic, we go for a long walk on the beach. I have enough money for this last night at Myrtle’s, and then we’re on our own. I’m wondering how safe it would be to sleep on the beach when I spot a sign advertising a house for rent for the winter. We trudge through the thick sand to the little yellow cottage. Finding the screen door unlocked, we sneak onto the porch and peek through the window at the living room, which features attractive furnishings in neutral colors. Beyond the living room is a small dining area and adjacent kitchen.
Conrad tugs on my hand. “Are we gonna live here, Mommy?”
“I don’t know, son. Would you like to live at the beach instead of in town?”
“Duh. I can go swimming every day and play in the sand with my dump trucks,” he says, forgetting that he’d left them at the farm.
“I doubt we can afford it. But I can call about the price.”
“May I help you, sir?” The voice startles me, and I turn around to face an older gentleman with snow-white hair.
“Oops. I’m sorry, ma’am. I saw your short hair and mistook you for a young man.”
I run my hand across the top of my head. “No need to apologize. I noticed your sign. Are you the owner?”
“I am. Would you like a tour?”
“Sure! Why not?” I extend my hand. “I’m Julia Becker, and this is my son, Conrad.”
Conrad chimes in. “But my friends call me Buddy.”
The man smiles, revealing a mouthful of teeth too white and perfect to be real.
“I’m Godfry Phillips. My friends call me Fry.”
Conrad scrunches up his nose. “Why? Because you like french fries?”
I gently knee my son in the back. “Don’t be rude, Conrad.”
The old man chuckles. “No worries. The second part of my name is spelled f-r-y but pronounced f-r-e-e. From the time I was a young boy like you, my friends have been calling me Fry.”
Conrad appears confused but lets it slide.
As we follow Fry inside, I notice he’s surprisingly fit for someone who must be at least seventy years old.
In addition to the rooms we’ve already viewed through the window, there are two bedrooms sharing a single bath. The cottage is clean and quaint and will more than adequately fulfill our needs while we get our feet on the ground.
When we return to the porch, Conrad asks if he can swing on the hammock in the small backyard. “Sure, Buddy. I’ll be right here if you need me.” I turn to Fry. “What are the terms of your lease?”
“I can only offer a nine-month lease. The house is already booked solid for next summer.” Fry tells me the monthly rental rate, which I could easily afford if I had access to my money.
“The cottage is perfect for us, but I’m new to town and haven’t opened a bank account yet. Any chance you could hold it for me until tomorrow? I’ll be an ideal tenant. I’m neat and clean and promise not to throw any wild parties.”
Fry furrows his bushy white brow. “I’m not too keen on renting to outsiders. You’re not in any kinda trouble, are you?”
I keep a straight face despite my racing heart. “No, sir. I’m a writer. I like to move around to picturesque settings for inspiration.”
His eyes travel to Conrad, who is stretched out in the hammock staring up at the sky with his hands propped behind his head. “What about the boy’s father?”
“He’s deceased.” It’s not a total lie. Grady is dead to me.
Fry looks at me with uncertainty. “I have a feeling you’re holding out on me. But I like you, and I’m willing to give you a chance. I’ll give you until tomorrow at five. But I can’t hold it any longer than that. Call me when you make up your mind,” he says and recites his number while I enter it into my phone.
I want to hug him, but something tells me he’s not the hugging type. “Thank you, Fry. I’ll let you know one way or another by tomorrow afternoon.”
Conrad and I walk hand in hand back to the beach. As soon as we’re out of Fry’s sight, I place another unanswered call to Rick Harvey. If I don’t hear back from him in twenty-four hours, I’ll have to wave the white surrender flag and call Eleanor. And something tells me WITSEC won’t be thrilled to have me back in the program.
