Page 26 of Here & There

The minute the door closes, Diane bursts into tears. “Oh, Ms. Jones, I’m so very sorry.”

I’m so shocked, my riled up anger deflates as fast as that bozo’s girlfriend. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms like she was the grandma I never had. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” She pulls away, brushing her eyes with the back of her hands, looking embarrassed.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with my fair share of jerks.” At work conferences, in the boardroom handling negotiations. The list goes on. But I’ve always handled it. Risen above. Case in point, their hollering outside the door. I flip the lock just in case they decide to come this way. “I just can’t say I’ve dealt with thisparticular brand of them before, nor sleeping right next door to me.” I give a little shudder.

Diane gives a tight sigh as she reaches for the to-go cups in the cramped but clean kitchen. “We never would have let them stay here, but the motel in town is undergoing renovations, and we need the money in the offseason. They’ve always been harmless, except for their big mouths. But I should have told you more about them.”

“Who are they, anyway?”

“ATV-enthusiasts who come to Redbeard every year for their annual meetup. They strap those ridiculous dolls on their laps and drive those noisy things on our beautiful forest trails. They tried tearing up the beach too, until Mac tore them a new one.”

“Does anyone like them?”

“Not at all. But one of them is the brother of our mayor, so we grin and bear it.”

She said the word mayor with no small amount of disdain.

“Goodness knows we all miss Angus,” she sighs as she fills an insulated cup and snaps on the lid. At my confused look, she says, “Our mayor for thirty years, the heart and soul of Redbeard Cove. He’s over in the home at the end of Main Street now, though. Dementia. It hit fast.” She tsks, shaking her head.

“When’s the next election?” I ask.

“This fall.”

“Maybe you should run.”

This makes Diane light up with laughter. “You’re sweet, dear. I could never. Angus’s son, on the other hand…we’ve been trying to get him to go for the job for years.”

In the other room, someone bellows, and the room bursts into more laughter. I guess they’re over Betty Balloon’s untimely end.

“I better get going,” I say.

Diane nods, handing me the mug. “Of course, dear.”

I hesitate. “Do you need help serving them?”

“Oh, goodness no. I’m not going in there again until they’re all done. They’ll be out on their adventures soon enough. Like locusts leaving the field.” She slumps onto a kitchen stool, looking defeated.

I wonder, suddenly, where her husband is.

“Is your husband working in the yard again today?” I ask, sweet as apple pie but with renewed irritation that she has to deal with that group of bozos herself.

Diane points her chin to the back. “Sure is.” She catches my expression and says, “He’s a good man. I think he can’t stand to be around them, either.”

Then he really shouldn’t make his wife deal with them.

After making her promise not to go back out there until the guys are gone, I excuse myself and head down the hallway and out the back door.

The back of the property is pretty, with a bench and a birdbath looking over a large grassy yard, backed with trees and the mountains springing up behind those.

Ben, a kind-looking older man, is kneeling by the dormant garden lining the fence, fiddling with the handle on the wheelbarrow.

“Hi there,” I say, giving my most winning smile.

He stands up quickly and takes his hat off. “Are those boys giving you trouble?” He looks truly regretful.

“Not at the moment. But they’re not taking very good care of Diane.”

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