Miles Left Yet by Holly Schindler

Miles Left Yet by Holly Schindler

Author:Holly Schindler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Holly Schindler, LLC
Published: 2016-05-15T00:00:00+00:00


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Mildred agreed to meet Mr. Gurtler. But not in his office. She agreed to meet him at the Handsome Diner out by M Highway.

In truth, the Handsome Diner was not handsome at all—at least, not the way Mildred had remembered it. It was decorated with wood paneling and a concrete floor and generally had the feel of either a storage unit for out-of-date restaurant furniture or a flea market. Forty years ago, it was a place to eat a perfectly cooked rib eye. A piano bar in the back had served the best martinis in town and offered pretty background music for a man’s sweet nothings, murmured across a tiny table for two. Now, it was a place to eat greasy hamburgers; the back room was covered in deer antlers and served beer to men in muscle shirts and John Deere caps.

The world had gotten quite skanky, Mildred thought. And she wondered, briefly, how Chad Prescott was getting along in her old neighborhood.

She chose a booth, and she ordered a Coke to pass the time as she waited for Mr. Gurtler.

She didn’t know what she would say to him. But she did know she didn’t want to say it over the phone.

When he arrived, she felt herself jump with surprise. Mr. Gurtler was older than she’d anticipated. Somewhere along the way, she’d started assuming everyone else in the world was under the age of thirty.

“Sudbury?” he asked, his eyes swelling at the sight of her.

She nodded. She swore she could hear him mumble a pleasantly-surprised “Hmm” as he slid into the opposite side of her booth.

It was kind of an odd reaction. But then again, Mildred was collecting odd reactions. She was still trying to figure out what she thought of this Gurtler fellow’s response when he blurted, “Thomas always said you were quite beautiful.”

Mildred frowned, now knowing exactly what she thought: She didn’t like it. At all. “You knew Thomas?”

“I was his lawyer for quite some time. Yes.”

“What else did he tell you?” she asked. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

When the waitress arrived, Mildred pushed her Coke across the table. “Can I please have a boilermaker?”

When Gurtler eyed her with surprise, she explained, “Closest thing to a cocktail in this place.”

Gurtler raised a hand and pointed two fingers skyward.

The waitress nodded and slipped away.

“Haven’t had one of those since my college days. Bookplates ’n Boilermakers. That was my reading group.”

Now it was Mildred’s turn to eye Gurtler with surprise. “You studied literature?”

“A million years ago,” he shrugged.

Mildred tightened up. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t like that, either. Nor did she like the fact that Mr. Gurtler had strong arms, a chiseled jaw, and perfectly combed wavy gray hair.

“Why’d you keep hanging up on me, Ms. Sudbury?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, somehow both flippant and honest at the same time.

The waitress appeared with two beers and two shot glasses and thunked them onto the table.

“Yes, you do,” Gurtler answered.

Mildred tightened again. “You say that as though you know me.



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