wanted to fight for the simple dignity of being served a burger, but instead he slid off the stool and left the building without saying a word.
He certainly hadn’t expected to be welcomed back to town with open arms, but he also hadn’t expected the same kind of intense animosity that had ultimately forced him to leave.
Sitting on his bike, he tried to school his emotions. Jimmy was meeting him at the house and he didn’t want to carry any more anger with him than what already burned in his soul. It had just been a hamburger and fries, after all, and everyone in town knew that George was an ass.
He pulled on his helmet and was just about to start his motorcycle when he heard somebody call out his name. From around the corner of the diner the curly-haired blonde waitress appeared. He had a quick impression of long, shapely legs, big blue eyes and a warm smile that was as surprising as a gator wearing a straw hat.
She tossed him a brown paper bag that he caught with his hands. “Burger and fries. I couldn’t do anything about the sweet tea,” she said, and then before he could reply she disappeared back around the corner of the building.
Bo sat in stunned surprise for several moments. It had been an unexpected gesture of kindness. He opened the bag and ate the food. At the same time he wondered who the woman was and why she had gone to the trouble.
It was almost four o’clock when he drove slowly down the street that was an outer band. Several blocks over to his left was the business area of Lost Lagoon, and on his right was the swamp side of town with a few small, neat cabins intermixed among weather-faded, neglected shanties. The swamp was an overgrown, tangled bog about twenty feet from the back of these houses and continued until Bo made the left curve that would skirt the edges of the lagoon.
On the right side of the lagoon, the swamp ended and he was on higher ground with larger homes and an aura of better prosperity. He made two turns to take him into the neighborhood where he’d grown up.
It appeared as if nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone. Only when he noticed a lot of new construction at the top of a hill behind his neighborhood did he realize something was about to change in the tiny town.
At the sight of the neat white ranch house with black shutters and a butterfly wind chime hanging off the edge of the small porch, his heart fluttered with grief. He pulled into the driveway and parked and wished that the past two years had been different.
He didn’t bother taking anything from his saddlebags. He had plenty of time to unpack what few things he’d brought with him. He climbed off the bike, set his helmet on the seat and then headed for the front door.
As he stepped up on the porch the door swung open and Jimmy Tambor pulled him into a bro hug. “I’m sorry, Bo. I’m so damned sorry,” he said and released Bo.
“Thanks,” Bo said woodenly.
“If it’s any consolation at all, the doctor thinks it happened in her sleep,” Jimmy replied. “She just went to bed as usual and I found her in the morning. I don’t think she suffered.”
Bo hoped that was the case. His mother had suffered enough five years ago when his father had passed away in a car accident. At that time Bo had feared his mother would grieve herself to death.
Jimmy had moved into the house when Bo had left town. Bo had wanted somebody he trusted to be there for his mother while he couldn’t be.
“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for her since I left town,” Bo finally said.
“You know she was like a mother to me, too,” Jimmy replied, his brown eyes a perfect match for the thatch of unruly hair on his head. “Come on, let’s get out of the heat. I’ve got a couple of cold beers in the fridge with our names on them.”
Bo stepped into the house behind Jimmy, and the first thing he noticed was the lack of scent. Even on the day Bo had left town the house had smelled of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
His mother had loved to cook and bake, and never had Bo been in the house when the fragrance of her labors hadn’t filled the air. It was then that his true grief began.
The pain stabbed him through his heart, leaving him momentarily breathless. He’d felt pain this deep only once before in his life and that had been on the night two years ago that Shelly Sinclair had been found murdered, her body floating in the lagoon.
He sucked it up and stuffed it down, knowing the time to truly grieve would come later, when he was all alone. He followed Jimmy through the spotlessly clean living room and into the kitchen. Jimmy pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and Bo sat at the round wooden table where he’d spent most of his life eating meals with his mother and father.
When his father died, Bo had moved from his apartment on the third floor of his business and back into the house with his mother. He hadn’t wanted her alone with her grief, and the return to his childhood home had gone seamlessly.
Jimmy set one bottle of beer in front of Bo and then sat with his own bottle across from his friend. They unscrewed lids and each took a drink. Jimmy set his bottle on the table and leaned back in his chair.
“There will be a simple graveside service tomorrow at three,” he said. “Your mother had all the arrangements already made. When I moved in here she told me where to find her important paperwork and that she’d left a will with Grey Davis. I’m sure he’ll want you to get in touch with him.”
Bo waved a hand and took another drink of his beer. “I’ll get in touch with him sometime after tomorrow’s service.”
“How long are you planning on staying?”
“As briefly as possible,” Bo replied. “I stopped by George’s place to get a burger on the way in. He refused to serve me.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“You want a sandwich? I’ve got some ham and cheese.” Jimmy started to rise from his chair but Bo waved him back down.
“Actually, I was getting ready to pull away from George’s and some pretty blonde woman ran out with a burger and fries for me.” Bo thought of the warmth of her smile and figured she must be new to town and didn’t know that he was the prime suspect in his girlfriend’s murder.
“Curly hair?” Jimmy asked.
“And long legs,” Bo replied.
“That would be Claire Silver.”
“Is she new in town?”
Jimmy shook his head. “No, she’s been here all her life. She’s three or four years younger than us, so you probably just never noticed her.”
Bo took another sip of his beer, mentally acknowledging Jimmy’s words. From the time he was seventeen, he hadn’t noticed any other girl except Shelly Sinclair. Shelly had been his high school crush, then his girlfriend, then his lover and finally a murder victim.
“I’m assuming things are going well at the bar,” Bo said, needing to get thoughts of the past out of his head.
“Business is booming, but you should know that by the profits we’re turning. In fact, I should probably get out of here pretty quickly because the dinner rush usually
