Two Tall Tails by Sofie Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

shoulder.
    He’d turned to look at me and I noticed both of the old man’s hands were squeezed into fists, the skin stretched tightly over his swollen, arthritic knuckles. “That . . . that punk accused me of being a thief!”
    â€œI don’t understand,” I said. “What does he think you took?” It had to be some sort of misunderstanding. Tom was honest to a fault. I didn’t think he’d so much as crossed against the light even once in his entire life.
    The old man had gestured to the area of lawn where he’d been about to begin mowing. “He said my cutting the grass was an attempt at a land grab. He called it encroaching on Angie’s property.” He suddenly seemed aware that Matilda was still barking. He’d looked toward the front door and held out a hand, palm facing the ground. “Matilda, sit. Sit,” he’d called.
    The little corgi stopped barking and sat down, but kept her nose pressed against the screen door.
    Tom shifted his attention back to me again. “I’m not trying to steal any of Angie’s property,” he’d said. “I would never do something like that. I was just trying to be a good neighbor.”
    â€œI know that,” I’d said, “and so does Angie.”
    I’d glanced over at the professor’s house and found myself wishing, selfishly, that Jason Bates would go home. I knew, if anything, he’d probably be staying longer this visit. The day after Jason had arrived, Angie had caught her foot on a loose edge of carpet at the top of the stairs and fallen, dislocating her shoulder and breaking her collarbone. The broken clavicle had required surgery. She should have been home by now, but she’d developed an infection after the operation—a bug the doctors thought she’d brought home from her last dig in the Honduran rain forest—and was still in the hospital.
    I was standing with my arms folded across my chest and my shoulders hunched, I realized, muscles tight from the memory of Tom’s altercation with Jason Bates. I took a breath and let it out, feeling some of the tension let go.
    Tom was still eyeing the mangled section of grass. I touched his arm. “I’m going to see Angie as soon as they’ll let anyone who isn’t family visit,” I said. “Once she’s home, things will settle down.”
    â€œI think you have a higher opinion of human nature than I do,” the old man said. “I hope you’re right.”
    Rose and I headed back to the house. She went inside to get her sweater and pack one of the tote bags she carried to work. Her bags reminded me of those little clown cars in the circus—the amount of things she could stuff inside seemed to defy the laws of physics sometimes.
    I took a seat on the veranda in one of the two wicker chairs that my best friend, Jess, and I had found at a flea market. Jess, with her with her eye for space and orientation, had insisted both would fit in my SUV and she had, in fact, managed to wedge them both into the back of the vehicle. I’d cleaned the chairs and painted them a sea foam green. Jess, who was a talented seamstress, had made seat cushions from some navy canvas.
    I slid down in the chair and propped my feet on the veranda railing, pulling the elastic from my dark hair and letting it fall loose to my shoulders. Jess was away in Vermont teaching a weeklong sewing workshop. I missed her. I remembered how she’d helped Tom fix the trellis on the side of his garden shed the previous fall, while Matilda, who generally disliked strangers, had followed her around the yard with a look of adoration on her furry face.
    â€œI like Tom, he reminds me of Pops,” Jess had said, referring to her late grandfather.
    I tried to imagine what would have happened if Jason had tried to bully the old man when Jess had been around. I couldn’t help smiling. It wouldn’t have gone