Chapter 8

Sheila hugged me and invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner later in the month. I told her I’d think about it. When they were both gone, I went for a long walk on the beach. The motel had no occupants, and it was unlikely that anyone would call in. I forwarded calls to my cell phone, though, just in case.

A bit of fog had come on shore, so it was gray and bleak. I was lost in thought, remembering my brief encounter with Maury as we’d almost bumped into each other on the sidewalk yesterday.

He’d been surprised to see me, but had offered a quick hello and a brief smile before asking how things were going at the motel. He looked really good, the bright green turtleneck he wore the perfect foil for his blond tresses.

“Slow,” I’d replied, “since it’s that time of year, as you know.”

“That’s right. Yeah.”