Page 18 of Into the Fire

“Tell me you eat tomatoes.”

“I eat tomatoes.”

“Good.” He handed me the sack. “Nash brought these by my house earlier this evening. Apparently his neighbor planted for the apocalypse.”

I looked inside. There had to be ten pounds.

“He gave them to you?”

“He gave them to me and anyone else I know who eats tomatoes.”

“You brought me half.”

“I brought you more than half. I know where you live.”

I stepped aside. “Coffee?”

“If you’re offering.”

Marty came in and took his boots off without being asked.

“You cooked. I smell elk.”

“Over rice.” I filled the coffeemaker while Marty put the tomatoes on the counter.

“Bizarre Love Triangle” was winding down in the background.

“You’re still listening to this stuff?”

“You’re still complaining about it?”

“I complained about it once.”

“And suggested ‘Manic Monday’ instead.”

Marty considered that. “That sounds right.”

I poured the coffee.

“Nash’s neighbor has zucchini, too,” Marty said.

“I don’t want zucchini.”

“Nobody wants zucchini.”

I sat across the island from Marty. He sipped his coffee.

“Ice machine quit again.”

“Again?”

“Hollis fixed it, but apparently he didn’t do it right.”

I looked at Marty. “Hollis isn’t allowed to fix the ice machine.”

“I told him that, but he was waving a screwdriver around.”

“So who’s fixing it now?”