Page 133 of Just One More Thing

Barefoot in my kitchen. Stealing bacon off my plate.

Hank wedges himself between our stools and stares up at us with intense emotional suffering until Mo gives him a piece of biscuit.

“Uh-huh,” I say. “I saw that.”

She shrugs innocently like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Then she sighs and wraps both hands around her mug. “I suppose it’s time to face the music.”

“What music?”

“Granny.”

“Ah.”

“Yes,” she says grimly. “Granny music. Which is somehow worse than regular music.”

I huff out a laugh. “Can I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

So we harness Hank. He rejects two bandanas before settling on the light blue one. “Feeling simple today?” I ask him. He stares at me, wondering why I’m questioning his decision. Fair enough.

The three of us head out into the morning.

The air’s already warm, but there’s something different underneath it. Like fall’s somewhere offshore thinking aboutmaking an entrance. The salt smell is especially heavy this morning. Good.

Ahead, Walt’s outside Tall Tales, cranking open patio umbrellas. Willard’s on his bench feeding Chip peanuts one at a time. Otherwise it’s quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

Which means we’ve got maybe thirty seconds.

Miss Hattie is wheeling The Salty Dog cart toward The Green when she spots us.

“Well, well, well,” she crows. “Look who finally turned a walk of shame into a parade.”

Mo closes her eyes briefly and mumbles something I wisely pretend not to hear.

“Good morning, Miss Hattie.”

“Is it?” she asks brightly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like a spectacular morning.”

Hank snorts.

“Even the dog agrees.”

We keep moving. We round the corner by Tall Tales, and the commentary starts flying.

“About time.”

“Knew it!”

“I had fifteen bucks on this week!”

“You still owe me from the lighthouse.”

“Somebody tell Maddy she wins the pool.”

Mo stops walking. “There was a pool?”

From halfway across The Green, Miss Hattie yells, “There are always pools, honey!”