AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Really?” she asked. “I mean, not you crying. That you think it’s a good idea.”
“I’d love that so much,” I said, my voice husky.
“Oh, Raye,” Deb said, her voice now also husky.
“Honey,” Dad murmured, and I didn’t know if it was to Deb or me.
But Cap muttering, “Baby,” I knew was for me, and I knew that even without the hand squeeze he gave me.
“Can you get time off?” Dad asked, and that was to me.
I drew in a deep breath to control my emotion, turned my hand so Cap could link his fingers in mine (that did it), and answered Dad, “Definitely. When were you thinking?”
“Christmas,” Dad and Deb said simultaneously.
Cap chuckled at their deviousness.
I burst out laughing.
Martha dragged a chair to our table, a bottle of beer in her hand, and with no greeting or request to join us, she sat down and declared, “Waited what seemed like a year for you to finish your chow. You all are the slowest eaters on the planet.”
Deb was staring at her in shock.
Cap was looking at his lap, but his shoulders were shaking.
Dad, understandably, considering his last run-in with Martha, didn’t seem surprised.
“Did you hear we’re going to be cultivating garbage?” she asked me.
“It’s called composting, Martha,” I informed her.
“I know what it’s called, Raye. It’s still gonna smell up the joint,” she shot back.
“Where are the bins?” I queried curiously.
“In the trash chute rooms,” Martha said. “I guess we’re all gonna get a little bucket, and the new garbage people are going to dump what we dump in the big containers they installed on the northeast corner of the parking lot. And Patsy’s gonna go in and turn the piles with a shovel or something. It’s positively barbaric.”
“It’s natural. It’s been happening since the big bang,” I returned.
She sat back and glugged some beer before she said, “Well, I’m not gonna save my egg shells and tea bags in a separate bucket.”
“Don’t tell me, tell Patsy. She’dloveto hear all about you denying her your egg shells and tea bags,” I retorted.
Cap scooted closer to me, because Linda was pulling up a chair.
Much like Martha, that was to say, without an invitation, she sat and asked, “Is Martha on about the compost?”
All of this was not rude, normally.
It was the unwritten rule of the courtyard: if you were in it, you were fair game.
Actually, I was surprised they waited for us to finish dinner.
Though, I worried about what Dad and Deb would think of it.
However, at a glance, I saw Deb appeared fascinated.
And Dad?
