Target Lancer
“This was just a glorified cubbyhole with counter, coffee machine, sink, a few cabinets, and refrigerator. The bulk of the space was taken up by a Formica table whose centerpiece was a cardboard container offering the remnants of what had undoubtedly once been a proud selection of pastries and doughnuts. Lou sat drinking coffee, nibbling on one of the latter.
I joined him, but just for talk—I’d had juice and toast at home. “You get Jean Ellison home okay?”
It was one of those questions you knew the answer to but had to ask.
He nodded, chewing. He swallowed. “I drove her in her car. Gladys followed in ours. We were back by midnight.”
“Appreciate that. How did Jean do?”
“She was very quiet. No more crying, at least not that I saw or heard. She was turned away from me, resting against her window. Think maybe she even slept a little. You could transcribe our conversation on the head of a pin.”
I leaned back in the kitchen-style chair. “She’s brave and she’s smart, but this would be a rough... one for anybody.”MoreLess
I joined him, but just for talk—I’d had juice and toast at home. “You get Jean Ellison home okay?”
It was one of those questions you knew the answer to but had to ask.
He nodded, chewing. He swallowed. “I drove her in her car. Gladys followed in ours. We were back by midnight.”
“Appreciate that. How did Jean do?”
“She was very quiet. No more crying, at least not that I saw or heard. She was turned away from me, resting against her window. Think maybe she even slept a little. You could transcribe our conversation on the head of a pin.”
I leaned back in the kitchen-style chair. “She’s brave and she’s smart, but this would be a rough... one for anybody.”MoreLess
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
7 / 10
7 / 10
User Reviews: