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“No, your dad has been calling them Thing One and Thing Two but I’m not going to let that stick.”
“Uh-huh,” I chuckle. “I’m happy for you. You’re going to have your hands full.”
“I am, and I’ll have to ask Teresa to pet sit over the winter holidays. That’s what else I was calling you about.”
“It’s July.”
“I know that! But your aunt Gina is planning ahead and inviting the whole family out to stay from Thanksgiving to New Years. You know she just moved into a huge new house? Your dad and I plan to go. She wanted me to extend an invitation to you too.” She grins at me and raises her eyebrows. “She’s right on the beach.”
“I’ll think about it.”
We talk for a few more minutes before a loud crash sounds in the background. “Oh hell, the kittens got in the cabinet. I have to go. Love you.”
“Love you, Mom. Good luck.” Her concern over Handleman’s release is understandable but I’m not worried.
My phone shows me an alert reminding me of my Thursday night standing appointment. I’ve slept half the day away and I need to get moving if I’m going to get anything done beforehand. After having a quick meal, I head out to my ATV, gas it up, and switch the trailer to the log hauler. There are five fallen trees that need to be moved.
Once I get them laid behind my barn, it’s too late to chop them up. That can wait until a cooler evening anyway. My ATV is almost out of gas, and my cans are empty, so I toss them into the back of my truck then go inside to wash the sap and dirt off my hands. After putting in an online food order, I return to my truck and head to the gas station to fill up the cans.
My next stop is Hatty’s Seafood Shack. It’s crowded, likely with people traveling to and from the lakes. By the end ofOctober, more than half of the traffic and people will be gone until spring. Since I’m here for a carryout and most of the crowd are waiting for a table or to place an order, it doesn’t take long for me to get our food.
It’s getting dark when I drive the winding road back to Earl’s place. Someone has cut his grass. No need for me to come back for that this week. His mutt, Harvey, trots alongside my truck as I pull into the driveway and get out, escorting me to the door.
“I don’t want no girl scout cookies!” Earl calls when I knock. Every week, it’s something similar. Last week he said he wasn’t interested in buying encyclopedias. I don’t think encyclopedias have been sold door to door in about fifty years.
“Let me in before I eat your hush puppies, you old bastard.”
With a grin that’s missing multiple teeth, Earl opens the door. “Did they have tea this time?”
I hold up the gallon jug. Harvey darts around my legs to enter before me, then follows us both to the kitchen.
Earl digs the cartons of food out of the bag while I pull two glasses out of his cabinet, fill them with sweet tea, and store the rest in the fridge. After three years of weekly dinners, I know my way around his kitchen.
He peeks inside the containers to see which is his, trades me mine for the glass of tea, and we take our food to his living room as usual.
“Who cut your grass?” I ask, sitting on the couch while he settles into his chair.
“A boy down the road was going door to door trying to make some money from yardwork to buy a four wheeler. One of the Billing’s kids. Rider or Striker or something like that, I can’t remember. They name them anything these days. Sweet kid, though. I’m going to pay him to keep it cut the rest of the summer.”
“Good for him.” I know Earl hates the fact he can’t keep up with his property anymore, but at seventy-five, it’s too much.
“Works for both of us. He needs money, and the last time I got on that riding mower, it nearly shook my bones to powder. Did you get those trees cut up this week?”
“Got them moved but not chopped yet. I took your advice and got the Forsythia bushes planted.”
Crunching into a piece of deep fried catfish, he nods and swallows. “They should help with the erosion, but they won’t spread like the honeysuckle.”
We spend a few minutes discussing landscaping and my plans to have a well dug near my bee hives. Once we’re finished eating, he grabs a deck of cards for a few hands of Rummy. It’s the most boring card game ever invented in my opinion, but Earl loves it. He hosts a weekly game at the Golden Hours Senior Day Center.
After he catches me accidentally discarding a playable card twice, he looks up at me with one scruffy eyebrow cocked. “Did you rent out your brain today? If so, they paid too much.”
My brain is stuck on a certain neighbor while my fingers itch to get back to work. “Maybe I felt sorry for beating you last time.”
He scoffs and takes his turn. It’s quiet for a few minutes as we finish the hand. “You’re in your own world. Something on your mind?”
Earl is a gruff guy with some sharp opinions, but he also possesses plenty of wisdom and isn’t shy about sharing it. He’s become something of a second father figure.
“I’ve been working a lot. Not sleeping enough, probably.” With a shrug, I finish the last of my drink. “A new neighbor moved into the cabin.”
