Page 108 of When We Were Young

Lizette’s need to keep things under control has been a little elevated lately. I’m here as backup to my mom. Lester’s just here to hang out.

“Yep. We’ll be close in case she needs us. She won’t, but just in case.”

A few minutes later, we’re sitting on one of the two matching cast-iron table sets Lizette found at an estate sale and placed out here for customers who might want to enjoy their treat outside.

We’re outside for a few minutes when Lester laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

He grins at me. “It’s amusing how different it is hanging out with you compared to Harrison. He and I are lucky to say one hundred words an hour combined. With you, I barely have to talk.”

“Glad I could entertain you.”

I feign offense, but really, none taken.

He chuckles again and takes a swig of his beer. He gazes across the way at the town square.

“Did you see the old feed store is up for sale?” he asks.

“Yeah, and I heard from Hank that the pharmacy beside it is next. Old man Langston is well past ready to retire, and he has no one to pass it down to. Figures he’ll sell soon and live out the rest of his days digging around in that garden he loves.”

“Really? Hank told you all that? Why? He hasn’t told me.” Lester’s grumpiness peeks its head out.

I decide to poke at it. “Hey, don’t be mad at me because I talk to people instead of just grunting at them in passing.”

“I don’t grunt, you little shit,” Lester argues.

“Yeah, yeah. I just hope whoever buys them does something that’ll let them make a living and be something the town needs.”

“My fear is that someday one of those monstrous auto parts stores that pop up everywhere is going to make its way here and mess up our little town square.”

“Oh, God. That’d be awful.”

We fall quiet as we both stare across the way.

There are a lot of things this small town could use. A franchised auto parts store—hell, any big-box-type store—is not one of them.

I’d say a solid five minutes pass in silence. It’s actually kind of nice. I’d still pick a hearty conversation if I had to choose between the two, but the quiet is nice as well.

“Do you fish?”

The look on Lester’s face is priceless. “Of course I fish. What kind of question is that?”

I laugh. He’s completely serious.

“How would I know that you fish? It’s not a given, is it⁠—”

“Yes, it is. Everyone fishes. Don’t you?”

I pick at the label on my beer bottle. “Nah. Not since I was seventeen. We, uh, used to go with my dad, and I stopped when he died.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. Good thing Ladybug isn’t here. She’d give me hell.”

I glance at him, and Lester looks sincerely sorry.

“You didn’t know.” I shrug. “Since I’m on a break from the mentoring program, Mrs. Smith asked if I’d maybe spend a little time with her newest foster kid. He’s seven. At seventy, and with a fifteen-minute drive from town, she’s feeling bad that she can’t do fun stuff with him. I thought maybe I’d take him fishing and bring Simon along if Lizette’s okay with it.”

“Hmm. That actually doesn’t sound too bad. You care if I tag along? I’d love to get one more day on the lake in before the season officially ends.”