Read Online Life's a Beach by Claire Cook - Free Book Online
Authors: Claire Cook
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous, Humorous fiction, Romance, Love Stories, Massachusetts, Middle-Aged Women, Sisters
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like a good lookout should.
It was a lot easier digging a hole in the same place the second time around, I observed. “Just wondering,” I said, “but what are you going to do with whatever it is when you find it?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Toots.”
I looked over my shoulder again. I considered whether I should let my father in on the whole St. Joseph story or not. I mean, what if he brought the statue to Take It or Leave It, and the dump sold it instead?
“Hey, Toots,” my father said, “can you wipe that grin off your face and give me a hand? I’m afraid somebody might have gotten here first.”
I took the shovel from my father and handed him the flashlight. First I sifted through the dirt pile, careful not to injure any hiding saints. Then I dug into the hole and scraped away at the hard-packed edges.
St. Joseph had disappeared.
8
I WAS CURLED UP ON THE COUCH WITH BOYFRIEND ON my lap, not really watching something on TV, when I heard the first pebble on the window. Noah hated the phone. I had to admit I wasn’t too crazy about the pebble thing either.
“Hey,” Noah said when I opened the door. He was holding a pizza box in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other, and his hair was wet.
“Oh,” I said. “Did we have dinner plans?”
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. I probably should have stopped by first to ask. I guess I figured if you weren’t here, then I’d just catch up with you tomorrow or something.”
“And if I were here, you’d already have the pizza.”
He managed to shrug and nod at the same time. Boyfriend came over to eye the gallon of milk. Noah reached into his pocket and took out a little tin frog with a key sticking out of its side. He wound it up and reached across the threshold to place it on the floor. Boyfriend stalked it from a distance as the frog chugged its way into the room.
I stepped back and let Noah in, too. I mean, what else could I do? It’s not really that rude to just show up, if you bring a gallon of milk and a toy for somebody’s cat, is it? “Cute,” I said. “But aren’t frogs supposed to hop?”
Noah took the two steps required to reach my kitchenette and placed the pizza box and milk on the counter. “I guess it depends on the frog,” he said. “Maybe we could go out for an ice cream later? You know, dessert? Or we could just leave the pizza here for the cat and the frog, and go get dinner somewhere.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “But, I’m just curious. Do you remember the last time you were here, when we discussed the concept of advance planning?”
Noah turned around slowly. “Well,” he said, “I really meant to do that, but then somehow most of the week slipped by, and it just seemed to make more sense to come over.” He smiled. “Pizza?”
I took the slice he handed me. “Well,” I said, “at least this time you remembered I don’t like mushrooms.”
The first time I met Noah was about two years ago. I had quit my job at an all-inclusive resort in Panama and moved to North Carolina to sell furniture. It turned out that wasn’t my thing either, so I quit that job and moved home.
I was coming out of a Childfree by Choice meeting. Actually, I never made it all the way inside. I just lurked around in the back of musty old St. Mary’s Hall, listening for a while, staying safely behind the second set of double doors. Then I picked up a two-sided flyer and tiptoed back outside. I liked the idea that there might be some other people in the world my age whose lives didn’t revolve around either their kids or last-ditch efforts to get pregnant, but I wasn’t exactly the clubby type. Plus I’d just moved back to Marshbury and I was afraid of being recognized by someone I went to high school with.
It was a Friday night in the summer, so Marshbury’s Main Street was closed to all but pedestrian traffic. A couple of sawhorses at either end did the trick. Marshbury merchants set
It was a lot easier digging a hole in the same place the second time around, I observed. “Just wondering,” I said, “but what are you going to do with whatever it is when you find it?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Toots.”
I looked over my shoulder again. I considered whether I should let my father in on the whole St. Joseph story or not. I mean, what if he brought the statue to Take It or Leave It, and the dump sold it instead?
“Hey, Toots,” my father said, “can you wipe that grin off your face and give me a hand? I’m afraid somebody might have gotten here first.”
I took the shovel from my father and handed him the flashlight. First I sifted through the dirt pile, careful not to injure any hiding saints. Then I dug into the hole and scraped away at the hard-packed edges.
St. Joseph had disappeared.
8
I WAS CURLED UP ON THE COUCH WITH BOYFRIEND ON my lap, not really watching something on TV, when I heard the first pebble on the window. Noah hated the phone. I had to admit I wasn’t too crazy about the pebble thing either.
“Hey,” Noah said when I opened the door. He was holding a pizza box in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other, and his hair was wet.
“Oh,” I said. “Did we have dinner plans?”
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. I probably should have stopped by first to ask. I guess I figured if you weren’t here, then I’d just catch up with you tomorrow or something.”
“And if I were here, you’d already have the pizza.”
He managed to shrug and nod at the same time. Boyfriend came over to eye the gallon of milk. Noah reached into his pocket and took out a little tin frog with a key sticking out of its side. He wound it up and reached across the threshold to place it on the floor. Boyfriend stalked it from a distance as the frog chugged its way into the room.
I stepped back and let Noah in, too. I mean, what else could I do? It’s not really that rude to just show up, if you bring a gallon of milk and a toy for somebody’s cat, is it? “Cute,” I said. “But aren’t frogs supposed to hop?”
Noah took the two steps required to reach my kitchenette and placed the pizza box and milk on the counter. “I guess it depends on the frog,” he said. “Maybe we could go out for an ice cream later? You know, dessert? Or we could just leave the pizza here for the cat and the frog, and go get dinner somewhere.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “But, I’m just curious. Do you remember the last time you were here, when we discussed the concept of advance planning?”
Noah turned around slowly. “Well,” he said, “I really meant to do that, but then somehow most of the week slipped by, and it just seemed to make more sense to come over.” He smiled. “Pizza?”
I took the slice he handed me. “Well,” I said, “at least this time you remembered I don’t like mushrooms.”
The first time I met Noah was about two years ago. I had quit my job at an all-inclusive resort in Panama and moved to North Carolina to sell furniture. It turned out that wasn’t my thing either, so I quit that job and moved home.
I was coming out of a Childfree by Choice meeting. Actually, I never made it all the way inside. I just lurked around in the back of musty old St. Mary’s Hall, listening for a while, staying safely behind the second set of double doors. Then I picked up a two-sided flyer and tiptoed back outside. I liked the idea that there might be some other people in the world my age whose lives didn’t revolve around either their kids or last-ditch efforts to get pregnant, but I wasn’t exactly the clubby type. Plus I’d just moved back to Marshbury and I was afraid of being recognized by someone I went to high school with.
It was a Friday night in the summer, so Marshbury’s Main Street was closed to all but pedestrian traffic. A couple of sawhorses at either end did the trick. Marshbury merchants set
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