Page 112
EPILOGUE
TWO WEEKS LATER
The Thermos Crew
Jimmy Dalton arrives outside the Bait & Tackle at 6:47 a.m., the same as he has every day for decades. His camping chair is in the bed of his truck because it’s always in the bed of his truck. With a Thermos in one hand and his chair in the other, he shuffles over to his spot through the mucky gravel lot, barely lifting his feet.
Clyde pulls into the lot at 7:03 a.m. in his sedan that looks as if it’s held together with duct tape and prayer these days. He pulls his chair out of the trunk and limps over to where Jimmy is already set up. He sets his chair up beside Jimmy and flops down into it with a groan, rubbing his knee. “Morning.”
“Mornin’.”
Sam arrives at 7:13 a.m. He doesn’t say good morning, just sets himself up on the other side of Jimmy, and stretches his legs out in front of him as always.
All three men wear lighter jackets than they have in the previous months, and Jimmy has traded his winter cap for a Red Sox baseball hat. Although they’ve had a good run of warmer weather lately, spring in Maine isn’t what other people think of when they think of spring. It’s more it’s not winter anymore than anything.
They aren’t there for more than thirty seconds before Dottie comes out of the Hollow Pine Café across the road with a steaming coffeepot in hand.
“Morning, boys.” She starts with Sam’s Thermos, then Jimmy’s, then Clyde’s.
They all murmur their good mornings, then Dottie returns to the café, as she does every morning.
Clyde only lasts seventeen seconds before he breaks. “So…”
“Here we go.” Sam closes his eyes and tilts his chin up toward the sun.
“I wasn’t going to say anything—” Clyde sounds offended.
“You absolutely were going to say something,” Jimmy says.
“—but I saw Ansel Mercer carrying a couch through the front door of Collins Ward’s place yesterday.”
Jimmy sips his coffee.
“A couch,” Clyde says again in case they missed it the first time.
“We heard you the first time,” Sam says.
“He’s moving in.”
Sam nods. “He was moving in.”
“You already knew.” Clyde’s voice is filled with disappointment.
“Marlene was at the salon yesterday, and Greta said that she heard from Manuel that Ansel had told Fowler earlier this week that he was gonna be moving in with Collins.”
Clyde ignores him. “Anyway, Ansel moving into Collins’s house, that’s a thing that happened in this town yesterday.”
“It’s good for them,” Jimmy says, then sips from his Thermos.
Sam nods.
“I want the record to reflect”—Clyde raises his finger—“that I was the first person to say something was going on there last year after Baylor’s birthday party.”
“You said something after I said something.” Jimmy readjusts his hat.
Clyde shakes his head. “Nope. You said it meant something, but I’m the one who pointed it out first. Those two are headed for the altar, mark my words.”
“They’re headed for a common-law marriage at least,” Jimmy says.
