commentary.
“Rawley, I don’t know what I’m going to do with the place. Fair warning. This could be a week of work and that’s all. I might just tear the place down and sell the land.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Rawley said, apparently unconcerned.
“Yeah, I guess.” Cooper scratched his neck. “See you then.” He turned to leave.
“Hold on,” Rawley said. He went into the kitchen, which was just through the dining room arch, then came back with a package. Cookies, wrapped in Saran, no plate, no ziplock bag. “Can’t be much around that toy hauler for snacks. They’re sugar-free, on account of Dad.”
“Right,” Cooper said, accepting them. “Thanks. That’s real nice.”
Rawley just shrugged.
Cooper left with yet another mystery about Ben. Rawley lived in a house that was well cared for, yet Ben’s place was mostly a wreck. How did that add up? Did Rawley take care of himself, but do a sad job for Ben?
Once in his truck, Cooper tried a cookie. Not bad, for sugar-free. Soft and tasty. He just shook his head.
* * *
Three days later, the smell wasn’t too bad and Cooper could get inside Ben’s place without choking. He had the electricity turned on; it not only offered functional lighting in the shop, but he ran an extension to the trailer to save on his generator. Just having a crew there to take out garbage and install fans brought attention to the place, and when the weather was decent, people who were out on the beach felt a need to wander closer, to find Cooper on the deck or the dock. Usually they would stop to say hello or hang out for a while, to ask what was going on. A kayaker rowed up to the dock, got out and asked what was going to happen to the place now.
“I don’t exactly know,” he said honestly. “I guess I’m responsible for it, but I’m not interested in running a business.”
“Neither was Ben,” the guy said, laughing. “But people around Thunder Point liked the place, even if we didn’t want to go inside too much.”
“What did you like it for?” Cooper asked.
“Gossip and drinks, mainly. And Ben used to pick up his deli food every couple of days from Carrie—when he couldn’t talk her into delivering. She’d do that if her daughter was free to mind the deli. That’s good stuff, Carrie’s stuff, and Ben never even marked it up. He had egg sandwich kind of things for the morning, sandwiches and pizza for later, desserts and stuff. It was good. It was all wrapped—he didn’t cook it. Know what I mean?”
“All I saw in there was a microwave and a stove and oven that looked...” He didn’t want to say ancient, but although the kitchen was spotless, the appliances didn’t look very reliable. The bar, though small, was neat and well stocked. The glasses, though dusty, looked as if they’d been washed, not that he’d trust them.
A man and woman with a dog saw him on the dock and said, “You’re the new guy, right?”
“I guess I am.”
“I’m Charlie and this here’s Donna, the wife. So, when you gonna open up?”
“Don’t know that I will,” Cooper said. “For now I’m just cleaning the place up. I’m not much of a cook...”
“Ben didn’t really cook. He warmed. ”
“Did Ben live on egg sandwiches and deli stuff?” Cooper asked.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “He was good with drinks. All drinks. Coffee, cappuccino, wine, beer and liquor. If the day was nice, I’d end up here with a bunch of guys from town for a drink or two. Sport fishermen came here for a few before taking their boats over to the marina.”
“What about Cliffhanger’s? Or Waylan’s?”
“Cliffhanger’s is expensive and Waylan’s is a shit hole. But they have HD TV. The owner is trying to make it a sports bar. If you open up, get a TV.”
“Gotcha,” Cooper said.
Cooper and Rawley went through Ben’s living quarters, which were, to his surprise, tidy. He suspected Rawley had taken care of that, too. Ben had been in possession of
“Rawley, I don’t know what I’m going to do with the place. Fair warning. This could be a week of work and that’s all. I might just tear the place down and sell the land.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Rawley said, apparently unconcerned.
“Yeah, I guess.” Cooper scratched his neck. “See you then.” He turned to leave.
“Hold on,” Rawley said. He went into the kitchen, which was just through the dining room arch, then came back with a package. Cookies, wrapped in Saran, no plate, no ziplock bag. “Can’t be much around that toy hauler for snacks. They’re sugar-free, on account of Dad.”
“Right,” Cooper said, accepting them. “Thanks. That’s real nice.”
Rawley just shrugged.
Cooper left with yet another mystery about Ben. Rawley lived in a house that was well cared for, yet Ben’s place was mostly a wreck. How did that add up? Did Rawley take care of himself, but do a sad job for Ben?
Once in his truck, Cooper tried a cookie. Not bad, for sugar-free. Soft and tasty. He just shook his head.
* * *
Three days later, the smell wasn’t too bad and Cooper could get inside Ben’s place without choking. He had the electricity turned on; it not only offered functional lighting in the shop, but he ran an extension to the trailer to save on his generator. Just having a crew there to take out garbage and install fans brought attention to the place, and when the weather was decent, people who were out on the beach felt a need to wander closer, to find Cooper on the deck or the dock. Usually they would stop to say hello or hang out for a while, to ask what was going on. A kayaker rowed up to the dock, got out and asked what was going to happen to the place now.
“I don’t exactly know,” he said honestly. “I guess I’m responsible for it, but I’m not interested in running a business.”
“Neither was Ben,” the guy said, laughing. “But people around Thunder Point liked the place, even if we didn’t want to go inside too much.”
“What did you like it for?” Cooper asked.
“Gossip and drinks, mainly. And Ben used to pick up his deli food every couple of days from Carrie—when he couldn’t talk her into delivering. She’d do that if her daughter was free to mind the deli. That’s good stuff, Carrie’s stuff, and Ben never even marked it up. He had egg sandwich kind of things for the morning, sandwiches and pizza for later, desserts and stuff. It was good. It was all wrapped—he didn’t cook it. Know what I mean?”
“All I saw in there was a microwave and a stove and oven that looked...” He didn’t want to say ancient, but although the kitchen was spotless, the appliances didn’t look very reliable. The bar, though small, was neat and well stocked. The glasses, though dusty, looked as if they’d been washed, not that he’d trust them.
A man and woman with a dog saw him on the dock and said, “You’re the new guy, right?”
“I guess I am.”
“I’m Charlie and this here’s Donna, the wife. So, when you gonna open up?”
“Don’t know that I will,” Cooper said. “For now I’m just cleaning the place up. I’m not much of a cook...”
“Ben didn’t really cook. He warmed. ”
“Did Ben live on egg sandwiches and deli stuff?” Cooper asked.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “He was good with drinks. All drinks. Coffee, cappuccino, wine, beer and liquor. If the day was nice, I’d end up here with a bunch of guys from town for a drink or two. Sport fishermen came here for a few before taking their boats over to the marina.”
“What about Cliffhanger’s? Or Waylan’s?”
“Cliffhanger’s is expensive and Waylan’s is a shit hole. But they have HD TV. The owner is trying to make it a sports bar. If you open up, get a TV.”
“Gotcha,” Cooper said.
Cooper and Rawley went through Ben’s living quarters, which were, to his surprise, tidy. He suspected Rawley had taken care of that, too. Ben had been in possession of
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