Red - Jack Ketchum [4]
Good for them. Not so good for Danny.
Where had he heard or read that? A kiss was a concealed bite.
He liked the idea. He guessed his little daughter was a biter.
But Belle was annoyed. Overly so, in his own opinion. Chris thought Darlin’ — Darleen really — was just about as cute as cute gets. But Belle had always been a little on the mercurial side when it came to the kids.
“Dammit, Darlin’!” Belle muttered.
He watched her storm across the lawn. For a little woman she had quite a long stride.
He lit another Winston off the first one and pulled on his half-empty beer and that was when Dean chose to get off his butt and approach him.
Chris extended his hand. “Dean.”
“Chris.”
His grip was surprisingly firm though the palms were smooth and soft.
“Hellova nice day, huh?”
“This time of year, Chris, can’t ask for much better.”
“You said it. What’s on your mind, Dean?”
“That obvious?” He essayed a troubled smile.
“How’s Diane?”
“The home’s real nice. They’re takin’ the best care of her I think they can. I want to thank you again, Chris, for putting in the good word for us up there. The lower rate helps. A lot.”
“Glad to hear it. Diane’s a fine woman. Deserves the best. She improving any?”
“Well…she’s more comfortable for sure, but…”
He didn’t want to go too far down that path with Dean. Diane wouldn’t be improving and they both knew it. Alzheimer’s. From what he’d heard, in the advanced stages. He slapped the man lightly on the shoulder. The ash fell off his cigarette onto Dean’s white t-shirt sleeve but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Hey. Why don’t you go in for a swim, old buddy? Clog the drain with all that hair. Do you some good.”
Dean tried on another smile. No fit.
“Yeah.”
Instead he pulled on his Budweiser.
There was the awkward pause he knew was coming. He leaned back against the birch tree and drank his beer. He saw that across the yard Belle had yanked Darlin’ off the picnic bench and was hauling her toward the house.
“You remember telling’ me to come to you first if I ever thought of selling?”
Here it is, he thought. I knew it.
“Yeah,” he said. “But I don’t feel like losing my best and only neighbor.”
“I just…I can’t concentrate down at the feed store anymore. Can’t find anyone who can handle the books the way Diane could. The competition’s killing me anyhow. You know I’ve lost customers I’ve had for thirty-five years over as little as two cents a pound?”
“They’ll come to regret it in the long run. Chain store’s not going to extend ‘em credit the way you do, prop ‘em up for months on end.”
Dean seemed not to hear him. He set his bottle down carefully against the tree.
“I’m in a hellova jam, Chris. And I got to be honest. I don’t really have the heart to try to pry my way out of it. I spend as much time as I can with Diane up at the home, but I’d like to spend more.”
“Understandable.”
“So what I want to do is…I want to sell it all off and get myself a little one-bedroom up around there so I can be with her these last few months. I don’t think she’s got much more than that.”
He flicked his ash this time before setting his hand down on Dean’s shoulder.
“If you’re really serious about selling, I’m glad you came to me. Come on down to the office on Monday we’ll see about drawing up some papers. I can’t give you the world for the place but I’ll give you a fair price.”
“I know you will, Chris.”
The man seemed looser already.
“Good thing about old friends is, you don’t have to worry about getting a lube job,” he said.
“That’s why I come to you, Chris.”
“You were right to. I got an idea. How about you and me getting ourselves a real drink? You’re a scotch fella like me, am I right?”
“Bourbon.”
“I bet we can shake some free.”
He picked up Dean’s bottle and handed it to