Glad One: Crazy is a Relative Term (A Val Fremden Humorous Mystery Book 1) by Margaret Lashley

Author:Margaret Lashley [Lashley, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zazzy Ideas, Inc.
Published: 2017-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

All I needed was a miracle. One teeny-tiny bit of inspiration. I stared blankly at my shot-down book synopsis. Double Booty. Ha! Double Doody was more like it. Even my morning walk and canoodle with Mr. Coffee had done nothing to raise my enthusiasm. The only bright spot was that it was Saturday. I still had today and tomorrow to come up with something good. But working on it would have to wait a bit longer. I was running late for a date with an angry, alcoholic neat freak old enough to be my father. It was the best offer I’d had in a while.

Jacob was waiting for me in the parking lot when I pulled up to Water Loo’s. He saw me and waved through the squeaky-clean window pane of his Prius. He climbed out of the car, shut the door and tested the handle to make sure it was locked, then ambled over my way.

“Mind if we go somewhere else?” he asked, holding his hands open and to his sides in what looked like a weird truce gesture, just like the day before.

“No problem,” I said. “Don’t like it here?”

“Not my favorite. Do you know anyplace with a good cup of joe?”

“Starbucks?”

“I’d rather not. I don’t know what all the fuss is about. That stuff tastes like burnt plastic to me.”

“We’ve got options. Get in.”

Jacob smiled and buckled himself in tight. “Your car. She’s a real beauty.”

“My Maggie? Yeah, she sure is. You seem like a man who appreciates the classics, Jacob. How about we go to a real, honest-to-goodness diner for breakfast?”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

I maneuvered Maggie onto a southbound lane of Gulf Boulevard in the direction of Corey Avenue and Gayle’s Diner. Jacob and I sat silent for the ride, enjoying the relative coolness of the early morning breeze on our faces. A few minutes later, we were sitting across from each other in a cozy booth for two, a waitress filling our white ceramic cups to the brim with piping hot java. Jacob took a tentative sip from the steaming mug.

“Ahhh, now that’s what I call a good cup a joe!”

“Glad you like it, Jacob. And I want to thank you. Breakfast is on me today.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“For coming forward. For sharing your stories with me. For being honest. You didn’t have to. And I know it’s not easy.”

“You two ready to order?” asked the round, shiny-faced waitress. “I see somebody here appreciates my coffee. I’ll be back to top you off in a minute, young man. Now what’ll it be?”

I ordered biscuits and gravy. Jacob followed my lead. While we waited for the food to arrive, Jacob continued his story with the perspective of a man who knew his part in it all too well.

“I realized I could never go back and make things right for Tony, but I was the only one holding enough cards to try and deal with what had gone wrong. You know what I mean?”

I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.

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