The County Line by Steve Weddle

Author:Steve Weddle [Steve Weddle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2024-02-01T07:00:00+00:00

27

Cottonmouth and Lorena were having dinner in Emerson at a small family restaurant neither knew the name of.

“It used to be McKamie’s place,” Cottonmouth said, leaning across the table to whisper to her, not wanting anyone around to know that he didn’t know where he was.

“They sold it couple years ago to that Eubanks fellow from Mount Holly,” she said.

“So Eubanks, then.”

“No, I heard they got rid of it and moved to Lewisville.”

Cottonmouth asked, “Well, who owns the place now?”

“I do,” the man standing behind him said, then introduced himself as Daniel Lebow.

Cottonmouth stood, shook the man’s hand, introduced himself, and said it was good to meet him. Said this here was Lorena Whaley, who nodded.

Lebow said he was charmed, and he was. He said to please sit back down, sit down. Asked what he could get them.

Cottonmouth surveyed the room to see were they causing any commotion, but the four or five groups around them just kept on eating, pretending they weren’t listening out of the corners of their ears to all this. “We were just asking what the specialty of the house was,” Cottonmouth said.

Lebow said he had some good greens and some chicken, if that would interest them, and they said it would. As he was leaving, Lebow said he had known Cottonmouth’s uncle and was sorry he was gone.

“He was a good man,” Cottonmouth said, having figured out that was usually a good enough thing to say to get through this type of conversation where someone felt the need to offer condolences.

“He was at that,” Lebow said. “You must be the nephew he was saying nice things about all the time.”

Cottonmouth said he was the only nephew, far as he knew.

“Well, there you go,” Lebow said, then nodded a “Ma’am” to Lorena as he walked back to the kitchen.

Lorena said he seemed nice, added it was good to have the ownership of the place settled.

Cottonmouth took a sip of his coffee, said it wasn’t easy taking over a family business.

“I’m well aware,” Lorena said. “And anyway, how goes the business?”

“Getting better, I hope,” Cottonmouth said. “Some of the fellows are off now doing some work. New line of work. Should be a good profit in it.”

“So you say. Hopefully they can line up a whole string of easy jobs.”

“Even better than that.”

“How’s that?”

Cottonmouth said they were working out a new business plan, working on moving forward. “Heading into the city to let a businessman know we’re open for business.”

She said that seemed like the way things ought to work.

He realized he hadn’t explained it well, tried again. “When I took over, everyone there was just following orders. Making money for people who already had money.”

Lorena said she could do with a little of that money.

He said that was the point. There wasn’t enough. It was all coming to an end. That way of life. “Sending letters. Then sending messages over the wire. Then the telephone. You have to keep moving ahead, keep working on new things. This man I used to work for down south, he was always looking forward.

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