Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Patty is selling it for five dollars at her booth,” Julia mentioned as she rubbed her hand against her chin. “Two for nine, even.”
“You better go get in on that deal,” I replied dryly. I wasn’t interested in the back-and-forth with her. We’d done the back-and-forth last week about the fifty-cent increase. And the week prior to that. Plus, I’d hardly slept the night before, seeing how I was out on the water longer than I should’ve been.
The last thing I needed after a night of catching hardly any fish was Julia Ripton complaining about bread prices. I knew my grandparents were professionals at the whole peopling thing, but damn… I hated people. They were too peopley for my liking. I much preferred my solitude, but it turned out that sitting on a boat twenty-four hours a day didn’t pay the bills. Unfortunately, I still had to go to work.
“I don’t like your attitude, Theo. Where’s your grandmother? I bet Molly would give me a good deal,” Julia declared.
She wasn’t wrong, either. Grandma had a way of running our business exactly how you’d think a ma-and-pa shop in a small town would be run—as if it were a charity. For two weeks while I was sick with the flu, Grandma ran the booth and the restaurant with PaPa. Somehow, we ended up with a negative income. They literally gave money away because someone in town told them a sob story about how they fell behind on their electricity bill. PaPa also went out and bought them a week’s supply of groceries.
Freaking Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
“Julia, there’s a line of people behind you. Either buy the bread or go get Patty’s,” I said as I glanced at the line forming behind her. We’d easily sell out of everything like we always did. And even with Julia throwing a fit, she’d still buy the damn bread because we’ve both tasted Patty’s sourdough before. I had a feeling dog kibble was softer than that stuff.
“Fine,” she grumbled as she pulled out her pocketbook. “But this is getting ridiculous. The prices of everything are going up, yet our jobs aren’t paying us any more money. It’s a shame.” She then glanced at the loaves of bread. “Give me two loaves. One rosemary, one apple cinnamon. Oh, and your grandpa’s honey. And two pounds of perch.”
I rang her up. “Forty dollars.”
“Forty dollars?!” she remarked, gasping for air. “Are you joking? That’s highway robbery!”
I sighed.
And round and round we go.
“Pay it or move on, woman,” Dale said behind her in line. He worked down at the auto shop and was the biggest grump in town, after me, at least. Dale gave me a good run for my money on the grump scale, though. I liked him for that very reason. He was well into his sixties and didn’t take shit from anyone. Not even Julia Ripton and her complaining self. “Ain’t nobody got time for your dramatic shock over prices. So either move on or pay the damn boy.”
Julia flipped around toward Dale and huffed as if in shock. “Oh, bite me, Dale Stone.”
“I have before. Didn’t like the taste,” he flatly replied.
I almost smirked, but I was too uninterested to bother.
Nothing like a divorced couple being in line with one another.
With annoyance, Julia paid me and gathered her goods before heading off in a huff.
“Can’t believe I was married to that woman for thirty years,” Dale stated as he stepped up to the table. “I can still hear her yapping in my nightmares.” He nodded once. “Got any more perch and bluegills?”
“Yup.”
“Give me three pounds of each. And two loaves of sourdough.”
I rang him up, and he paid without a moment of hesitation. He even tipped an extra ten. I gave him a nod as a thank you for the tip. He nodded back and went on his way.
Dale was my favorite kind of person. He kept to himself, and when someone pissed him off, he told them they pissed him off, then he went back to minding his own business. It wasn’t shocking that he and Julia didn’t work out because she was a professional at minding all the business that wasn’t hers.
I ended up selling out on everything that afternoon. That wasn’t shocking. I wasn’t a rich man by any means, but my grandparents and I did pretty well with our small-town restaurant business. Some folks said I should’ve moved to a bigger area where I could’ve made a better living, but I didn’t need much. I had a roof over my head and a boat at my dock—what more could I ask for? I didn’t crave the things other people craved. I didn’t crave money or fame. Hell, I didn’t even crave friendships. I just wanted to be left alone.
After packing up my table, I tossed everything into the back of my Yukon truck, then headed toward the driver’s door to head over to my grandparents. As I approached my door, I saw a familiar person, who I wished weren’t familiar, leaning up against my car.