BooksBarbecue
Back THE MAILMAN Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55

She pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center. Although the spaces in front of Bayless were filled with cars, she was surprised to see that the area in front of the delicatessen was nearly empty. That was weird. Todd had the finest selection of cheeses and the best fresh fish in town, and usually when Bayless was busy, his store was even more crowded.

She parked in an empty space directly in front of the small store and walked inside.

She noticed the difference immediately. It was nothing she saw, more like something she felt. A tension. A strange uncomfortable feeling in the air that was entirely uncharacteristic of the store’s usual atmosphere. She looked around. The deli was empty save for her and Todd behind the counter. She moved forward, examining the meats in the meat counter. She smiled at the shopkeeper, but he did not smile back, and she decided to quickly buy her food and get out of the store.

She pointed toward a selection of fileted trout on ice behind the counter. “Fresh catch?” she asked.

Todd nodded silently.

Her unease increased, and she said quickly, “I’ll take three large fish.”

The storekeeper opened the back of the counter, pulled out three trout, and placed them on the scale. “Tell your husband I don’t appreciate what he’s doing,” he said.

Tritia frowned. “What are you talking about? What is he doing?”

“Tell him I don’t appreciate it at all.”

“Don’t appreciate what?” Tritia stared at him. “Todd, tell me what’s going on here. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His reserve broke. He smiled at her as he wrapped the fish, and there was sadness in the smile. “I know you don’t.”

“Todd?”

“I believe you. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He gestured around the empty store. “You’re my first customer today.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She leaned forward over the counter. “Is it the mail?”

His face grew stony, cold. “That’ll be three-fifty,” he said.

“Todd?”

“Three-fifty.”

She paid for the fish and walked out of the store. As she backed up in the parking lot, she saw him standing in the doorway, staring after her. It looked as though he was crying.

28

Billy sat in the darkened living room watching TV. Dick Van Dyke segued into Andy Griffith, which segued into The Flintstones, which segued into The Brady Bunch. There was something comforting about the unchanging characters of the people on television, a reassuring element in the familiar plots and predicaments of the shows. Outside, things might be getting stranger, more chaotic. But on TV Mike and Carol Brady were still good-naturedly understanding parents trying to quell a war between the sexes that was brewing between their children.