Summer People by Aaron Stander Read Free Book Online

Ray is soft on crime and wants to take their guns away. And he gives out bumper stickers that say Sack the Wimp, Hire a Hammer.
    “Does he get any takers?”
    “I guess he gets some; I have seen a few of the stickers on old pickups. Ray says there are a lot of rednecks around here who are terrified that they might lose their guns. The really popular bumper sticker with this group is My wife, yes; my dog, maybe; but my gun, never. I can’t imagine why any woman would ride in a car with that sticker on it.” She paused and looked at the menu. “Enough politics, what are you going to have?”
    “What’s good?” asked Marc.
    “The white fish is wonderful. And they have steaks, chops, the usual stuff, but you should be watching your cholesterol— given your age and all.” She smiled mischievously.
    “My God, you sound like a….” He didn’t complete the sentence “Besides, my cholesterol is extremely low.”

9

    Lisa parked next to Marc’s cottage and switched off the engine. “Want me to walk you to the door?”
    “I expect it. Remember, I’m old fashioned.”
    When they got to the door Marc turned and asked, “Do you want to come in for a nightcap?”
    “Sure,” said Lisa.
    Marc opened the door and switched on the kitchen light. Grendel, lying in front of the stove, raised his head slightly and thumped his tail against the floor.
    “Come on old man, time to go outside.”
    “How old is Grendel?”
    “Fifteen. He has really started to show his age. Watch. He’ll be back at the door in two minutes. In the old days he would stay out and explore all night if he could. Now his only joys seem to be sleeping and eating. What would you like?”
    “What are my choices?”
    “Let me check,” Marc started going through a collection of bottles in a cupboard. “There’s half a bottle of tolerably good cognac, some Armagnac, a Portuguese brandy that looks like its been here for years, some anisette and a few things of uncertain origin.”
    “Not a bad stock considering you just moved in.”
    “This stuff has been here for years—aged in woods. What will it be?”
    “The cognac.”
    He poured the liquor into two snifters, let the dog in, and led Lisa into the living room. “Would you rather sit on the porch?”
    “I think it’s getting too cool. Besides I’ve always liked this room.” Lisa settled into a large, overstuffed sofa. “Are you going to redecorate?”
    “I guess I should,” he replied handing her a snifter and sitting down on the sofa near her. “Most of this stuff goes back to the thirties and forties. Some of it dates from the time my grandparents built the place. But I really like it this way. But Elaine would tell you, I know nothing about decorating.”
    Lisa lifted her glass, took a small sip and said, “That almost sounded like hurt, like you still care about what she might think.”
    “I don’t. It was always a sore point with us. One of the reasons she gave for hating to come up here was that she found the decor, to use her phrase, ‘so distasteful.’ She referred to it as Roy Rogers Rustic.”
    “Are you really through the divorce, or are you still hurting?”
    “As I told you yesterday, the marriage had been over for years. And I’m glad she forced the issue by getting involved with her shrink. But in a funny way I think I was a bit hurt. No one wants to be the one who is left, regardless of how bad the situation. Maybe my pride was hurt. Perhaps I felt bad because someone else could make her happy when I couldn’t. It’s all pretty irrational stuff.”
    “You can’t work through these things in a rational way,” agreed Lisa. “I was the one who asked for the divorce, and I was elated when it was final. But then, six months later when I heard he had remarried, I was absolutely crushed. For some absurd reason I felt our marriage should have been important enough that he would have remained in mourning for a suitable time. Have you dated—excuse me, you don’t