Episode 8 Nurture/Destroy
Episode 8 Nurture/Destroy
When she was young – even in her sixties – Lois could roll with the punches, pick herself up, dust herself off. But now, as she watched Gladys slip out of Suite #231 of Sunny Valley, Lois knew a weariness unassuaged even by little Seth blowing a kiss over his pudgy hand. She found herself wishing the tot was saying good-bye at Auntie Lo’s funeral.
“Lois Melissa!” she chided herself aloud, but only partially shocked at her wish. The years, the problems had piled up and Lois, no longer a problem solver, staggered under her own inadequacy. No wonder she’d gone silent. Even Quint no longer teased her about her amputated talking streak.
A rap at her door made her jump.
“Archer, Ma’am,” announced a firm, masculine voice that so reminded her of her youthful Daniel. “Puppy pursuer.”
Hazy as she was with self-pity, Lois blinked a moment trying to understand. And then she knew: Tom had found Roberta’s purse with that blasted woven puppy head!
“Come in!” she cried, rocking forward.
He’d never been in her apartment before, but his eyes didn’t stray, at least as much as Lois could tell with his neck bent as it was. “Care for a stroll in the courtyard?”
They were nearly too late. But Lois glimpsed enough of the lanky white-blond hair and narrow features to be able to recognize the thief again. The puppy was once more last to be whisked onto the elevator before it rose.
“What’s her name?” Lois demanded, and then immediately retracted, remembering Tom’s reluctance to tell tales. “I’m sorry. I have no right to ask you. Thank you for keeping me up to date on the investigation. I don’t think I’ll tell the staff. No need for unpleasantness. I’ll watch, and I’ll know what to do.”
The corner of Tom’s nearly hidden mouth turned up in what must have been a boyish grin.
When she looked up, Lois was startled to see Alf watching with particular interest the retreating curved back of Tom Archer.
“Must’a been a fine-looking man in his day,” Alf commented as he held the door to the courtyard. “Shame what happens to good people.”
Lois gaped up at her oldest little brother: Two full sentences in a row, and neither in reply.
He grinned. “You’ve gone silent on us, and Ada’s blubbering over Sam.”
“So you can get a word in edgewise?” For the first time in weeks, Lois bent in a low belly laugh. But then her eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you two thrilled that Samuel is marrying? Have you met her?”
“Yep,” Alf nodded from his 6’4”. “Like her a lot. Bossy, talkative. Runs her kids and grands and greats like someone else we know.”
“Local gal?”
“Dallas.”
“Texas? Ah! And she doesn’t want to leave her family? Even for the wedding? No, especially not for the wedding, I’d imagine. Can’t you two fly down? Oh, they plan to live there, too.”
Alf stared at a hardy zinnia. “Yep.”
When she was young – even in her sixties – Lois could roll with the punches, pick herself up, dust herself off. But now, as she watched Gladys slip out of Suite #231 of Sunny Valley, Lois knew a weariness unassuaged even by little Seth blowing a kiss over his pudgy hand. She found herself wishing the tot was saying good-bye at Auntie Lo’s funeral.
“Lois Melissa!” she chided herself aloud, but only partially shocked at her wish. The years, the problems had piled up and Lois, no longer a problem solver, staggered under her own inadequacy. No wonder she’d gone silent. Even Quint no longer teased her about her amputated talking streak.
A rap at her door made her jump.
“Archer, Ma’am,” announced a firm, masculine voice that so reminded her of her youthful Daniel. “Puppy pursuer.”
Hazy as she was with self-pity, Lois blinked a moment trying to understand. And then she knew: Tom had found Roberta’s purse with that blasted woven puppy head!
“Come in!” she cried, rocking forward.
He’d never been in her apartment before, but his eyes didn’t stray, at least as much as Lois could tell with his neck bent as it was. “Care for a stroll in the courtyard?”
They were nearly too late. But Lois glimpsed enough of the lanky white-blond hair and narrow features to be able to recognize the thief again. The puppy was once more last to be whisked onto the elevator before it rose.
“What’s her name?” Lois demanded, and then immediately retracted, remembering Tom’s reluctance to tell tales. “I’m sorry. I have no right to ask you. Thank you for keeping me up to date on the investigation. I don’t think I’ll tell the staff. No need for unpleasantness. I’ll watch, and I’ll know what to do.”
The corner of Tom’s nearly hidden mouth turned up in what must have been a boyish grin.
When she looked up, Lois was startled to see Alf watching with particular interest the retreating curved back of Tom Archer.
“Must’a been a fine-looking man in his day,” Alf commented as he held the door to the courtyard. “Shame what happens to good people.”
Lois gaped up at her oldest little brother: Two full sentences in a row, and neither in reply.
He grinned. “You’ve gone silent on us, and Ada’s blubbering over Sam.”
“So you can get a word in edgewise?” For the first time in weeks, Lois bent in a low belly laugh. But then her eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you two thrilled that Samuel is marrying? Have you met her?”
“Yep,” Alf nodded from his 6’4”. “Like her a lot. Bossy, talkative. Runs her kids and grands and greats like someone else we know.”
“Local gal?”
“Dallas.”
“Texas? Ah! And she doesn’t want to leave her family? Even for the wedding? No, especially not for the wedding, I’d imagine. Can’t you two fly down? Oh, they plan to live there, too.”
Alf stared at a hardy zinnia. “Yep.”
Labels: Puppy thief, serial short fiction S4C gnome Silent Sam
posted by TAWK Press at 6:55 AM
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